Stale Bread: Not Just for the Birds

As part of my current series of experiments with sourdough I’ve committed to making a few loaves every weekend.  Hubby and I can only consume about a small loaf in my house so into the freezer and over to neighbours houses go the extra buns and loaves.  By the end of the week a third loaf remains and its pretty firm on the outside.  It usually gets tossed in the bin or if I think of it I’ll head out to the park and give some to the ducks.  I love the ducks and geese.  The Mallards always sound like they are laughing at you.  The bossy geese push all the little ones out of the way.  They all run to greet you when you arrive at the pond.  So when I chose to feed them my stale bread, I certainly didn’t take it lightly.  I used to buy Goose and Duck Food from a local pet store but since  I chock the bread so full of whole grains I think it’s much healthier then the pressed food pellets that I’m sure are more filler than grain. 

Ducks & Canadian Geese in the Winter

Back to the sourdough.  I’ve been surprised to find no fuzzy sweater, or even t-shirts, growing on the bread after long stints in the cupboard.  The loaves stay soft a whole lot longer than the store bought ones; I doubt I’ve ever had a fresh bakery loaf last more than a day or two.  So when I pulled out the loaf I made 10-days ago I expected it to be revolting.  It wasn’t.  It was firm on the outside but after filleting it like a fish and a very close eyeball and nose inspection I decided all it needed was some re-hydrating.  French toast!  I soaked that bad boy in a mixture of 2 organic eggs and a 1/4 cup of cream while I heated up a pan with a small knob of butter.  The end result made me feel for a few moments that I was back in France.  The whole grains in the bread produced a denser texture and nuttier flavour; the staleness of the bread re-hydrating with the eggs and cream making an almost custard / bread pudding-like decadent French toast.  Topped with a bit of my Fallen Applesauce and some Vermont maple syrup, I gobbled up my breakfast before even leaving the kitchen and found myself with the overwhelming urge to lick the plate.  Who knew I would be left with such a satisfied belly, sugar high, and the French CBC on the radio?  All this from a 10-day old sourdough remnant.  I suppose I will have to continue on with my weekly bread making adventure for a while longer.  Winter is coming and stale bread in my house is no longer only for the birds.