The Cult of Sour Dough

It's not entirely true to say I've never worked from home before. I have. But this is the first time I've enjoyed it.

I like to separate my spaces. Excercise happens outside, in a dance studio, or at the gym. Work happens in the office. Cooking, reading, long breakfasts and other relaxing activities happen at home. I wouldn't actually call chocolate making relaxing, it's hard physical labour, but it's also fun, and therefore doesn't seem to infect my relaxation space with non-relaxing tasks.

To make up for the lack of colleagues and the convivial atmosphere of an office (I've been lucky enough to work almost entirely in convivial offices), I listen to podcasts. The wonderful medium of radio, and its modern iteration, make me feel like the most interesting conversations with the most interesting people are happening in my loungeroom. Each week I chat with my good friend from Sydney about music, and listen to all the new tracks he's garnered in the last week. I join my favourite breakfast radio broadcasters for a few hours, albeit late in the afternoon in Bogotá. Frequently I discuss big ideas, let Angie motivate me to get running, or just listen to some great stories. And of course I talk about food.

In the course of this conversation, I discovered that I'm part of a cult. I didn't realise I had joined any movement, but I listened with such fascination to every scientific detail of this podcast, that I was convinced. I am a fully inducted member of the cult of sour dough.

As a show of faith, I baked this: 

I'm not one for the hard sell, and I feel strongly that we all have the right to our beliefs, so let me just suggest, gently, and with a smile, that you might like to join us. Every day, several times for some, we worship wild yeast, by consuming slightly sour, open crumb, crusty, freshly-baked bread.