From Brot to Brioche

It all began with The Big Guy's quest for good German rye bread. His folks would occasionally bring some from the German store, but he decided that it was something that needed to be more readily available. His eventual success with that is chronicled here. For Christmas, his mom gave him a River Cottage bread cookbook, and things escalated.

The bread maker at Sourdough Gap before he succumbed fully to Bread Fever.

Trips to the natural market became necessary for some ingredients.

A sourdough starter bubbling away. These have become a fixture on my kitchen counters. I still think of them as my counters, although that makes them my crumbs, so I'm learning to let go.

This kitschy terra cotta bread pan was spotted by one of his coworkers at a garage sale. I like the farm animals on it ('specially that chicken!)

Today was a particularly productive baking day for The Big Breadman Guy. Rye, pumpernickel, and sourdough. The rye was a bit too dense this time, so it's been cubed for chicken feed, although I'm now thinking croutons might be good.

He has begun to explore his more creative side with the textures and patterns.

Besides the increase in counter-crumbs, the only real downside for me is that I do not like the sorts of breads he favors. Or maybe that's an upside -- more for him, less of me.

Be that as it may, even when you don't care for a particular kind of bread, it all smells outrageous when it's baking, and after whiffing fresh-baked goodness week after week, the little glutton in me wanted some bread. Bread. Now.

And so I convinced him to make some brioche. Enough of this heavy, stodgy German bread, I said. Use those beautiful eggs our chickens gave you, and give the French their due, I insisted.

Merci.