in the moments before

There is something so perfect and so hopeful about a smooth ball of dough as it rises one last time before it bakes. It sits patiently on the stone waiting to become tomorrow’s bread. It’s cool to the touch and even before it’s baked, it fills the kitchen with the irresistible smell of fermented yeast. When I bake bread, I still get this anxiety that for some reason the bread will refuse to rise and as it rests as that smooth little ball, it is a testament that so far everything has gone according to plan.

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