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Camilla would shape her sourdough right before it went in the oven, into a sort of dutch oven that was a heavy iron cooking pot and lid with a three tiny holes. She shaped it the same way a bread bun is made, stretching and folding the edges to the middle and squeezing them together so they would stay. Then she'd flip it over, let it free-fall into her oven-hot cooking pot. That aroma came to hold the memories of our lifetime together, of moments, days and years as if they were the same.

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Angel kept her sourdough starter as if it were her pet, she had after all started it with only flour and water. After watching a few videos on YouTube she'd becomes something of a master baker, and the results, well, they were seriously yum.

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Leo would wet his hands before handling the dough to stop it from sticking to his fingers, letting the water run over them before shaking them out onto the stone-tiled floor.

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Learning how to make sourdough began with the starter dough, creating it from flour and water. Stacy began by putting a jar of water on the window ledge overnight to let the chlorine gas escape, then when she awoke mixing it 1:1 with flour in a tall kitchen jar.

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The sourdough would be left in the refrigerator overnight, and before the children awoke our home was already infused with the aroma of freshly baked bread.