Earlier today, I resurrected the chomping, farting micro-organisms that I affectionately call my "baby yeasties." They were all sleeping soundly in a Tupperware-brand, blue topped container at the very coldest part of my meat keeper. They'd been in there so long, I wasn't sure that they'd wake up. But there they are, on my counter, munching hungrily at their three squares of King Arthur bread flour and filtered water.
I'm sure happy to have them back. Given that I birthed them back in 1994, with a little help from organic grapes, flour, and water, they are the creature in this house that's been with me the longest.
If my rusty bread baker instincts are accurate, they'll be at full strength by Monday when we'll start baking again. The little locavore has decided that we need to have a breadstival, so you'll be seeing lots of crackling loaves on these pages in the not too distant future.