Even though I am not at all religious, I feel close to it somehow. Being in Sinai freshens up my memories from Sunday School when I was a kid.  The stories of Joseph (son of Jacob and Rachel). Of Abraham and Sarah who counted the stars in the desert to see how many children they would get. And Moses of course, who left with his people into the desert where I am now. And God who gave them Manna. The holy Bread.
Of course I did not bring my sourdough here. I would find that a bit silly. I rather try new things when I am on holiday and learn something new and local. But being at this place, the holiest place for all Bread, I just could not resist to test its strength.

To start a sourdough is not easy, so I was nervous.  My mom has been trying, without success for 3 weeks now. And my Swedish food-blog hero Lotta has been trying for about a year until she gave up. I guess I have been lucky that my sourdough stayed with me for almost 4 years now.

Anyhow, I had to see if I was able to start a new dough here. It was hard to find flour without additives but when I did I mixed it with some fresh apples from Syria. And now my dough is bubbling on the back of my saddle. I will call him Manna and I will take the half of him with me to Berlin.

The other half I have promised to leave here.