Bread, beer and being

I have taken up making bread again. I am not the knead and slap and fold and work yourself into a lather kind of bread maker.  I like sourdough bread that you just put together and let it sit overnight and develop its own flavor. Nothing in a hurry, cause I’m not in a hurry. I see on a certain website all these bread recipes that are “quick” and “1 hour” and “no fuss”.  I want a little fuss, as long it isn’t me doing the fussing.  I want there to be some time involved, although I will admit to making some bread machine sandwich bread because it is just throw it in and let it bake. For a sandwich you want a different kind of bread than you want for a smear a lot of butter on it and eat it with lasagne kind of bread. I like the idea of slow, put it in a bowl and let it rise overnight kind of bread. Quick is just that, quick. With quick there is no time for the flavors to get ripe, the bread tastes of just the flour and nothing else, mostly.

I feel that way about the beer I drink, too. Sometimes I want a cold quick drinking lager or a citrusy kind of beer. Mostly, though, I am a sit on the back porch sip for an hour really tasty darkish don’t eat anything with me beer drinker. A brown ale or cocoa porter or bourbon barrel ale kinda beer. The kind that takes time to develop. I don’t drink the same kind of beer all the time. There are those who do, and that’s okay but I want to explore the wide world of the craft of beer. I mean the kind of taste that comes from taking time to let the flavor develop not the “aged for 20 minutes” stuff. I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a lush or beer snob cause don’t get me wrong, I probably wouldn’t turn down ANY beer that is offered.  Now that does make me sound like like a lush.

I guess quick bread or quick beer or quick from the drive thru food is symptomatic of the hurry we seem as a culture to be in. We have forsaken the concept of savoring the moment, being mindful is the word. I am guilty myself.  I used to be in such a hurry to get to work, get home, get to tennis, get back home and ice my joints after tennis, that I didn’t take time to savor life. I still have to fight my own inclinations to fill my moments with being occupied instead of being in the moment. I read a book or surf the web or look at facebook.

Even now as I write this I hear the waterfall up the river and don’t want to be distracted by the sound but I am distracted. I need to be distracted and just allow myself to not “do” and just let the sound of the water falling over the rocks surround me and wear away my rough spots. I look up and see the green of the river and the reflections of the sycamore on the water, hear the birds, smell the freshly spread mulch, and I wonder if I am being distracted or being renewed.  I think I will let myself sit and age and develop some flavor.

See y’all around.