For two years, every loaf I pulled from the oven was measured against a version of bread that existed only in photographs.
I chased open crumb, a blistered crust, a perfect ear — and in doing so, turned a genuinely relaxing weekend ritual into a small, private competition I was always losing.
A good loaf and a photogenic loaf are not always the same loaf.
The loaf that finally made me happy was a slightly dense, slightly lopsided one I baked on a whim, without weighing anything twice. It reminded me that bread doesn't need to be photographed to be worth eating.
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