Winter has begun in the Adelaide Hills. The crockpot is full of vegies and there is pearl barley soaking ready for tonight's soup. My Open fire is blazing, and the bread dough is proofing in the warmth next to it. I will be making my bread in my dented old bread tin, but imagine putting this loaf dish down on the table decorated with golden ears of wheat, with a fresh loaf out of the oven in it. I adore the dextranatious scent of the flour and the yeast reacting to form bread. It seems there is nothing more inviting than the smell of bread in the oven.












