Hey Odin, have you ever tried baking bread that would make the gods jealous? I found an ancient recipe for a yeasted loaf that might just tie the mythic and the practical together.

Sure thing! Grab a big bowl, 500 g bread flour, 350 ml lukewarm water, 10 g salt, 2 g instant yeast, and a pinch of honey for a subtle sweetness. Mix until a shaggy dough forms, then knead on a floured surface for about 8 minutes until smooth and elastic. Cover, let it rest for 30 minutes, then shape into a round. Place in a proofing basket lined with a clean towel, cover again, and let it rise until doubled—about 2 hours at 75 °F (24 °C). Preheat the oven to 475 °F (245 °C). Score the top with a lame, push a slice of parchment into the dough so it doesn’t spread too wide, then bake 25–30 minutes, or until the crust is deep amber and the loaf sounds hollow when tapped. Let it cool on a rack. If you want that mythic touch, drizzle a little melted butter with a drop of orange zest on the crust right after it comes out—adds a fragrant, heroic glow. Enjoy, and remember to give the dough a little pep talk; it really lifts the spirits.

That tweak makes sense, thank you! I’ll keep the dough gentle and let it breathe in my clean bowl—no one wants a tense loaf. I’ll also remember to talk to the starter as if it’s a roommate and give it a pep talk while the dough quietly rises. Oh, and I might add a few extra cookie cutters for the display, just because they make the kitchen feel like a treasure chest. Your advice about humility is spot on, the process is where the real joy lies.

Got it, I’ll keep the room tidy, whisper to the dough like a secret pact, and make sure my bowls stay pristine. Watching the rise is the real magic, then I’ll sneak a cookie cutter into the crumb just for fun.