There's something about breadmaking, that I find the pleasure of doing it different from other forms of cooking. It's like playing - the simple make-up of flour, water, yeast (and a few little extras). The arm-burning stirring, then the kneading, feeling of cool play-doh in between my fingers as I bash the dough into submission. I enjoy watching the yeast bubble and froth, watching the dough rise and balloon like crazy, and my mounds of sticky dough into even stickier, delicate little mounds filled with tiny air holes. There's just a wonderful rusticity to it all, a kind of ancient alchemy at work, with living cultures breathing life into simple grain and water.
Enough rhetoric. The tip with working with such a lousy oven is to shape the dough into as small buns as possible, as well as to try and help the oven distribute the heat as evenly as possible by using multiple rays, pieces of foil, ceramic dishes, etc.
But I loved the process and the results, anyways so was happy in the end with my rather heavy buns ;p. They made great toast, which AK and I ate with homemade pandan kaya for breakfast, and later with homemade pork burger patties.
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