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Where the makers of Noble Rise bread implored us to be quiet as their bread was resting. I suggested otherwise. Their reply (not printed) was dead bat and non-committal. View Ad.

Dear Sir,


You have just got to be kidding!

Or at least your yeast is. In high numbers.

You are bakers; surely you must understand what is going on in your proving room?

Consider what you have there: in a warm, moist, convivial and probably dark location, a large numbers of yeast have been let loose in a flour-strewn, permissive and encouraging environment. Promiscuous little darlings at the best of times they are making what could be called serious whoopee. If you were to take a close look you would see a bacchanalian orgy that would have done the Emperor Calligula proud. There is debauchery, there is carousing, and there is depravity. It is the party everyone wants to attend.

It is no coincidence that a term for the enterprise on a more macro scale is a roll. Muffin does bear thinking about, and the true etymologies of focaccia, pumpernickel, French stick, and damper are not found in the more refined dictionaries. Even 'Noble Rise' itself raises more than a few questions. It is therefore hardly surprising that the consequences of such procreational frenzies are often a bun in the oven.

Apart from a surprisingly high level of intestinal gas produced, the yeast are having a ball.

Quite frankly I don't think they would care if you opened the door, rattled a bread tin and shouted at them. They wouldn't hear you. And I suspect that they would ignore you if they did. It is only the time-stopping actions of your ovens, modern day Mount Etnas, that put an end to this revelry.

Shhhhhhhhh! indeed.

Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! more likely.

Yours en-route to a cold shower,

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