Reading, Writing, and Sourdough

Jess Walter supplies a fine amalgamation of fiction and history, melding historical figures, most notably Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, a fiery rebel who fought for the rights of working class men and women (and founding member of the ACLU) with a pair of fictitious Irish brothers searching for work in Spokane, Washington at the start of the 20th century. Lumber and mining barons are bulldozing the earth, earning and spending millions of dollars. Hobos, tramps, Native Americans are hired and fired at will, surviving on pennies a day, eating pilfered chickens, living in unwashed clothes, and sleeping in flophouses or open fields. Organized labor has taken its battle from wars in mining and timber camps across the west and heads to Spokane for a standoff with heartless employers. The Wobblies (I.W.W.) are enjoined by anarchists, communists, and socialists, but have their heads cracked by police, vigilantes, Pinkertons, and infiltrators hired by politicians and executives intent upon saving ord

Every spring when ramps arrive in the local woods and I receive bunches in my CSA, I make pesto, and also some kind of ramp pancakes. This year I chopped my ramps, mixed them with whole wheat sourdough starter, a cup of buttermilk, and crushed cumin seeds. I made a dozen and a half: a perfect accompaniment to a spicy pot of curried red lentil dal.  

 Last week I made Maurizio Leo's Rustic Italian Sourdough . The bread has flour from durum wheat in it. Durum wheat is typically used to make pasta, but its golden yellow color imparts rich, slightly sweet flavor to bread, which I love. Most people know that fresh homemade bread smells incredible and tastes much better than anything that comes from a store. When it is still warm it feels sensuous, and for most bread lovers, even the sight of fresh bread makes our mouths water. That covers four senses: sight, taste, smell, and feel. But finished bread sounds good, too. When it is done, a tap on its base will resonate like a drum, but pay close attention to this clip. When a loaf comes from the oven, it crackles with goodness.

It started in China in the first half of the 14th century and by 1348, fleas riding rats (and maybe marmots) carried a pandemic across Asia and Europe. Between one-third and one-half of all the people on those two continents died.  Europeans of the Middle Ages were not famous for their comprehension of science, their record keeping, nor their cleanliness. Yet, death by plague was so ravishing that it was the preeminent event of a century, so clear in its approach and consequences, an accurate timestamp can be placed on a map for the date of its arrival in city after city. Within days or weeks after making its entrance, the plague bacterium, Yersinius pestis , eradicated nearly half of everyone it encountered. Pause and think about the impact of a mass and instantaneous die-off of that magnitude and you can understand why American defense specialists used the plague as a model for the aftereffects of nuclear war. Like today's COVID-19 pandemic, anticipation of the plague's arriv