Edgar Allen Poe

12-21-2012, bread.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

1-17-2013, bread.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

12-29-2012, bread.  Photo by Michael McKinney.

Man I love Edgar Allen Poe.  I think he's a fantastic American writer.  The first really vital writer of pulp fiction, the first to immerse himself in the language of fantasy, without any recourse to comparisons, metaphors and literary allusions.  Classic macabre tales of fright.  The kind of literature that makes B-Movies and comic books, somehow translated to craftsmanship and excellence sufficient to be studied throughout the world for decades. 
The whole of American Literature could be said to have formed from the writings of seven or eight pivotal writers around Poe's era, including Poe himself.  From Thoreau's writings against government intervention and discourse on our nation's ecological responsibilities to Emerson's demand for self sufficiency, the major literary genres could be elucidated from their contributions.  Surely throughout the nation there were other writers employed at the time, through various means, but those writers one must certainly study in their education can definitively be described as foundations of American writing.
That being said, I can't say strongly enough how certain I was that despite having absolutely no interest in the Lance Armstrong affair, upon hearing that his crime of advanced doping was enabled through the master of macabre, Edgar Allen Poe, I knew that my disinterest had flared from passing contempt to one of misappropriated indignity.  How dare the anal retentive jocks of lycra and aero helmets adopt the writer of such classics as The Raven in order to more successfully cheat?  How incredibly indulgent and pedantic of them.  Truth to be told, I would quaver in fear of daring to upset the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe for one's own ends, despite the sickness one struggles with on their own time.  Which reminds me of my bread recipe.
The cranberry cinnamon wheat oat honey organic flour loaf I've been working on has revealed one sure secret, one proof, that needs more analysis.  After utilizing Red Star Yeast as the rising agent, I've noticed that this recipe has a tendency to just be too heavy to properly rise.  In the future I will attempt to use fewer ingredients and allow a more thorough rise.  As certain as I am that cycling will somehow bypass the convergence of Edgar Allen Poe's influence and competition, I'm certain this bread recipe will pull through with a little work on the rough edges.

Recommended reading, A Dog in A Hat, Joe Parkin.