Whether this is the middle of the end, or the end of the beginning, or just the way this COVID-19 era is, I’ve stuck to my pandemic habit of baking sourdough bread — a sure ritual in unsure times.
I’ve practiced something long enough, 22 months, to get really good at it. I’ve taken chances and risked falling flat, literally. But sourdough is forgiving. No matter how imperfect a loaf looks, it always tastes good. It’s a small triumph. It’s easy to love.