The Cost of Convenience | Bread and the Life We Forgot

This isn’t just bread.
It’s a reminder — to slow down, to make something real, to taste life again.

In a world built on shortcuts, this same-day semolina loaf is a quiet rebellion.
Every fold, every rise, every pause — a return to what matters.

Somewhere between “instant” and “infinite,” we lost the plot.
Let’s find it again — one loaf at a time.

🍞 Same-Day Braided Semolina Italian Bread (Original Recipe)

Ingredients

300 g Caputo Semola Rimacinata flour
200 g Caputo 00 Chef’s flour (or King Arthur All-Purpose)
8 g kosher salt*
8 g Caputo dry yeast
330 g warm water (about 95°F)
15 g olive oil
8 g honey (≈ 2 tsp)
Untoasted sesame seeds, for topping
*If using Diamond Crystal kosher salt, measure 8 g by weight (≈ 2 ¼ tsp).

1️⃣ Activate the yeast
Microwave 330 g water for about 25–30 sec, until ~95°F.
Whisk in 8 g honey and 8 g Caputo yeast.
Let sit 10 min, until foamy.

2️⃣ Make the dough
In a large bowl, combine 300 g semola and 200 g 00 flour.
Add the yeast mixture and 15 g olive oil.
Mix until a rough dough forms, then knead 8–10 min until smooth and elastic.
(If sticky, dust lightly with flour; if dry, add a drizzle of water.)

3️⃣ First rise
Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover, and rise 1–1½ hr at room temp, until nearly doubled.

4️⃣ Shape the braid
Punch down gently to release excess gas.
Divide into 3 equal pieces, roll into ropes ~16 inches long, and braid loosely.
Tuck ends under, place on parchment.

5️⃣ Final proof
Cover with a towel and proof 45–60 min, until puffy (about 70–80 % larger).

6️⃣ Preheat + steam setup
Place a baking stone on the center rack and a metal pan on the lower rack.
Preheat oven to 425°F for 1 hr.

7️⃣ Top + bake
Brush braid with 1 Tbsp olive oil + 1 Tbsp water mixture.
Sprinkle generously with sesame seeds.
Slide loaf (on parchment) onto the hot stone.
Quickly pour 1 cup hot water into the lower pan and close the door to trap steam.
Bake 25 min, until golden brown and internal temp 200°F.

8️⃣ Cool
Transfer to a wire rack and cool 30 min before slicing.

Simple. Honest. Real.
Bread made the way life should be lived — slow, patient, human.

Think Right, Eat Well; Thrive
The body remembers. The soul never forgot.

Peace, Love & Light —
Joe

From this video:
Oven stone: https://amzn.to/3WKKCdv
Imported yeast: https://amzn.to/47mDla1
Imported Italian flour: https://amzn.to/4hc6B6w
Organic AP flour: https://amzn.to/4q7IiuR
Scale: https://amzn.to/4oqHe3z
Dough mixing tool: https://amzn.to/4qdvh2S
Graza EVOO: https://amzn.to/3LahtWC

[Music] We used to know what mattered. Now we just know what’s easy. We built a culture that can’t wait. Fast food, fast scrolling, fast everything. We trade our time, our health, our peace for quick dopamine hits, chasing the high of next. But the faster we move, the less we taste, the less we feel, the less we live. We’ve mistaken speed for progress, noise for connection, and comfort for happiness. We live surrounded by abundance. And yet, most of us are starving for silence, for meaning, for something real. We’re the most fed generation in history. And somehow the hungriest. Hungry for conversation that isn’t through a screen. Hungry for satisfaction that lasts longer than a scroll. Hungry for the peace that only comes when your hands, your mind, and your purpose are all in the same place. We don’t even cook anymore. We tap a screen. Door Dash. A box of Blue Apron. Microwave ready. It says chef inspired. Because we’ve outsourced nourishment, outsourced patience, and outsourced love. We hover over our takeout boxes instead of tables, scrolling while we eat, numb to what food used to mean. We say we don’t have time, but somehow we have time to watch strangers on screens cook the meals we forgot how to make. We’re overstimulated, overfed, and undernourished. We’re a society addicted to convenience, and we’re dying from it. You go to Italy and you’ll see a nona stirring her sauce for hours while her husband tends to garden out back. Fresh tomatoes, basil, zucchini, all grown by hand. You’ll see families talking, laughing, eating slowly. No screens, no rush. They’re not counting macros or tracking calories. They’re not chasing caffeine or slamming protein shakes between meetings. They eat real food from real soil. and they share it with real people. Meanwhile, we’re over here measuring everything. Our steps, our likes, ounces, grams, this and that, and we still feel empty. They eat to live. We live to consume. They sip wine in the sun, and we pound coffee in traffic. One culture is nourished while the other one is running on fumes. In those same places, we could call it the blue zones. These people live long lives, not because of hacks or supplements, but because they’ve kept their human rhythm. They walk after a meal. They sit and eat together with people. They laugh often. They rest without guilt. They eat what grows nearby. They eat it together. That’s the real secret. Not perfection. Pace. Somewhere along the line, America mistook comfort for happiness. We paved over our gardens and called it progress. We turned meal time into a chore and rest into guilt. We engineered food that lasts forever and people who burn out young. We keep saying life’s short. And it’s like we’re living in a way that’s making it shorter. We worship productivity but forget how to be present. We’ve built a system that sells us convenience and steals our peace. [Music] Look, slow food isn’t nostalgia. It’s a rebellion against a world that profits when you’re too tired to cook, too rushed to think, too distracted to live. Every time you need dough, chop an onion, or wait for that sauce to thicken, you’re taking back your time. You’re choosing patience over profit. You’re remembering what it means to be human. When you bake bread, you can’t rush it. The dough decides when it’s ready, not you. It teaches patience. It rewards stillness. It reminds you that creation takes time. And time is the only thing worth giving. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe the good life isn’t about doing more, but doing less better. Maybe happiness isn’t something you chase. It’s something you notice when the noise stops. We don’t need more convenience. We need more connection, more time at the table, more bread that took all afternoon to rise. Because somewhere between instant and infinite, we lost the plot. But the beauty is we can find it again. One meal, one moment, one loaf at a time. Life’s not fast, it’s slow. And that’s the beauty of it. Think right, eat well, thrive. The body remembers, the soul never forgot. Ry’s trying the best. All right.