Pedigree Chewed.

Well another day flies by without a drop of rain. Joe has almost finished the metalwork on the oven base, so if the tractors free in the morning we may be casting the base. The bakery work surfaces are now complete and ready to be sealed. The eating area tables are now extended so as to house c24 hungry bakers and spouses, and a WW1 bench (only slightly chewed by an ex-racehorse called Sylvan, Silverdale Lad to those of you who may have squandered pennies on such things) has been pressure washed and is ready for a bit of TLC to seat said hungry diners.
Zebs (baguettes and poolish recipe) baguettes are about to go in the oven. I think my draughty old Northern Farmhouse must be very cold as the process seems to take at least twice as long, or was Zeb telling fibs?

So this eve we are finalising our (remaining) flour order whilst sampling Belgian Beer, fresh beans from the garden and Rioja (sadly empty now), whilst discussing why Joe looks like a girl.