Panis et Circenses, Part 3

I looked at the flour-and-water starter from this morning and decided that its vaguely greenish colour meant that it was done (this is not true. I thought it looked just like it had earlier, and it was only when I compared it to the fresh mix of flour and water from the next step that I discovered that the starter was a lot darker than it had been. But not green. Not exactly.)

I mixed flour and water again, in equal amounts, but about twice as much as before, in another bowl. I added salt. You would, too. I stirred with a wooden spoon.

I proceeded to pour this new mixture into the old bowl (at which point I discovered the change in colour). I stirred for a while, thinking about hedgehogs, mostly (I saw a hedgehog not very long ago. It was late, and it was raining, and the hedgehog was minding its own business, but it was still rather nice. When I have succesfully become fictional, I will invite it for tea. And jam. I strongly suspect that hedgehogs like jam).

I then started to add more flour, a little bit at a time. At this point, the old recipes recommend that a strong footman is called into the kitchen. Presumably to see how hard you work. I should estimate that I added about two and a half more parts of flour. I also added some oatmeal, to see if it made the dough less sticky (it did, but so did the wheat flour).

After a while, the dough had reached a pleasant consistency, something like... like... bread dough. I covered it with a towel again (the same towel, incidentally) and put it out of harm’s way (harm enters the kitchen through the microwave oven, and leaves through the door. Any food item left in its path will lose half its nutritional value and start to taste like chicken).

My sources are somewhat unclear about the next step, but I have decided to leave the dough to do its thing overnight. One source claimed that it should be left for 30 to 36 hours, but that clearly doesn’t take the gnomes into account.