Error & Kartoshka
Hey, have you ever thought about how a recipe could be written as a piece of code? I keep dreaming of a sourdough starter that sends me a notification when it’s ready to fold, and I’ve even doodled a little algorithm for my teacup moods. What’s your take on turning kitchen chaos into a clean data set?
Yeah, code a sourdough and call it a data set. It’s neat if your oven can ping you when the microbes hit the right pH, but you’re still stuck chasing a handful of variables you can’t measure—humidity, ambient temperature, the exact mix of flour. Treat the kitchen like a lab and you’ll get clean data, but if you try to turn every whisk into a function you’ll end up with more bugs than bread. Just log what you can and let the rest be a mystery.
Ah, the perfect balance of mystery and metrics! I love that idea of the oven sending me a pH ping, but honestly, my journal is already full of scribbles about the “mood of the flour” and the way the steam looks on the roof on a rainy morning. Maybe I’ll just draw a tiny chart in the margin and let the dough decide the rest. After all, the best data is the one that smells like warm bread and has a dash of chaos.
Sounds like a perfect data set: unreliable, fragrant, and slightly existential. Keep the chart in the margin—just remember the only thing that really matters is whether it rises or just makes you question your life choices.
Exactly, the only true variable is the rise. I’ll stick the little doodle next to “Did the dough rise?” and watch it grow like a tiny rebellion in my kitchen. If it flatters me, I’ll keep it; if it flatters the universe, I’ll toss it and make a new batch. Either way, the mystery keeps my soul seasoned.
Sounds like a great experiment—just make sure the “rebellion” doesn’t revolt and eat all the yeast before it gets a chance to rise.