Ciabattas have turned out well.

Today is bread making day and I am chuffed at my loaves so far. It may seem tedious for some with the whole outlook of making your own bread, but for us, our nearest bread shop is 45km away. And the taste of making your own outweighs the loaves wrapped in plastic bags.

The time in making bread is therapeutic, and I listen to Radio National with a cuppa as I do my mixing, rising and baking. I do get up early to do it, and with the weather becoming very chilly, I had the fire blazing this morning. We are lucky to have a double burner that is half in the lounge room and half in the kitchen to warm up the place. So baking bread is lovely on days like these.

When Hubby woke this morning, he walked into the kitchen and gave me a big smack-a-roo on the lips and said: “Love the smell of fresh bread”.

I love mornings like this.

Foccacia with potato, rosemary, garlic and salt.