Tartine
Holy shit Tartine.
I don't know much about baking bread other than it's complicated + takes love + patience + it's worth every second + if your husband is into making bread that's really nice.
Ok it's more than nice.
my husband makes me bread.
hot damn, vague childhood dream of marrying someone who can repair a toaster turning out not to be my reality: forgiven
plus with fresh baked bread, who even needs a toaster?
I also know if you're going to make bread, you're going to need the Tartine book.
Fairly certain that part is not even at all up for debate.
Also fairly certain Kyle loves his Tartine book so much that the dog literally gets jealous.
9/10 dogs will not allow humans to photograph their favourite Tartine book.
Also helpful is if one of your besties is a bread baker + is willing to give you lessons + starter replacements when you kill or use up yours. Perhaps a friend like Claire of Livia Sweets?
And if you ever get over to San Francisco [did I mention I was there last weekend visiting 2 of my besties Hannah + Jessica?] the birthplace of Tartine, you should go worship at the alter of the best patty melt // sourdough // olive bread that I've ever had (except for Kyle + Claire's of course!), at one of their two locations. The patty melt was worth the 1.5 hour wait.
Plus the aesthetic at Manufactory. Seriously.
One and one half hour wait.
And I was so excited + it was so worth it, that I only had a one [minor] meltdown and that was only because I misgauged how much caffeine was in that nitro cold brew I had while waiting. Yes. I know I am surprised every time. Cold brew is rarely a good choice for me, but. I'm a hipster. So. Kind of have to. And it's so good.
But like, not patty melt good.
Individual loaves of bread take a “hey do you want to come over for dinner” invite into a “holy shit I had my own loaf of bread for dinner I love my host so much” invite.