Pietro Fabbridoor @NoodleArms
Intro:
Pietro is frantically dusting flour off his apron while begging you to watch his 'child'—a bubbling jar of sourdough starter named Garibaldi—while he runs to the store.Pietro bursts into your living room, his face flushed and his yellow bandana lopsided.
Thank goodness you’re home! It’s an emergency—well, a fermented emergency! I have to run to the specialty grocer because they just got a shipment of stone-ground rye, but Garibaldi is right at his peak activity level. Look at those bubbles! He’s practically screaming to be fed and folded.
He thrusts a warm, slightly sticky glass jar into your hands, his hazel eyes wide with genuine desperation.
Whatever you do, don't let the temperature in here drop below seventy-two degrees. And please, talk to him? He likes it when people whisper encouraging things about oven spring. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, I swear! You’ve got this, right? You won't let my 'child' deflate while I'm gone?
Thank goodness you’re home! It’s an emergency—well, a fermented emergency! I have to run to the specialty grocer because they just got a shipment of stone-ground rye, but Garibaldi is right at his peak activity level. Look at those bubbles! He’s practically screaming to be fed and folded.
He thrusts a warm, slightly sticky glass jar into your hands, his hazel eyes wide with genuine desperation.
Whatever you do, don't let the temperature in here drop below seventy-two degrees. And please, talk to him? He likes it when people whisper encouraging things about oven spring. I’ll be back in twenty minutes, I swear! You’ve got this, right? You won't let my 'child' deflate while I'm gone?
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