Greece – Psatha

Remember that baking obsession I mentioned in one of the previous Psatha posts?

Well... it's getting worse.

We stayed for ten days this time, and every single day a different loaf came out of the wood-fired oven. My fridge looked more like a bakery laboratory than a holiday home, with dough fermenting for one, two and three days, all carefully scheduled so that fresh bread appeared every afternoon.

Focaccia, sourdough, different flours, different hydration levels... I seem to spend as much time thinking about bread as I used to think about the beach.

Not that I'm complaining.

The rest of Psatha hasn't changed much, and that's exactly why we keep coming back. The sea is still crystal clear, the sunsets are still spectacular, and the daily routine has reached a level of perfection that doesn't really need improving.

Morning coffee, beach, lunch, more beach, a cold beer, light the wood-fired oven, fresh bread for dinner.

Repeat.

For years, Psatha has been our escape from everyday life. These days, it has also become the place where I experiment with new recipes, slightly overcomplicate perfectly simple bread, and somehow convince everyone that another focaccia is exactly what dinner was missing.

Judging by the speed the bread disappeared every evening, I'd say nobody objected.