Dear Melanie,
I read a book* a little while ago about a lonely software engineer named Lois who discovered, by chance, a spicy soup and sourdough bread that changed her life. The soup and bread were delivered by two migrant brothers who ran a possibly-illegal pop-up take-away service close to her home.
And when they had to leave, they left her their historic sourdough starter, and told her to play it music every day.
She had to research how to bake bread and when she did, each loaf she made with the starter sported a distinctive, impossible-to-miss face on it. Some of the faces were grimaces, others twisted in pain, but over time, the faces became friendly. Joyful, even. It seemed to depend on the music.
And the bread was utterly delicious.
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