I love to bake bread. I learned the basics watching my mom, grandmother and great grandmother. Fresh bread, butter, and honey was a special treat. Special occasions always warranted fresh bread or rolls. My husband and I received a bread machine as a wedding gift many years ago. It was great to have a fresh loaf waiting when we’d get home from work. He will never let me forget the time I forgot to add the yeast. We were having company over for lunch after church, and I was so excited to show off my cooking and baking skills as a young wife. I made lasagna the day before to pop in the oven. The plan was to have it with a salad, green beans, and fresh bread. I can’t remember what happened, but we didn’t get to the market to get salad fixings. And we were out of green beans. No problem, lasagna and bread would still be filling. The aroma was wonderful. But when I took the bread out of the machine, it hadn’t risen at all. It was a brick! We only had lasagna for that meal. Lesson learned. Must. Add. Yeast. Every. Time.
I perfected the art of baking whole wheat bread when our children were young. We invested in a home mill and ground our own flour. We went through two mixers over the years. Ran them dead. The third and current mixer is commercial grade. I can bake a double batch with ease. The kids never had store-bought bread at home. They loved to help mix, knead, and watch the bread rise. We had a cat who loved warm places. One particularly busy day, I was feeling a deep sense of satisfaction for having completed my chore list. I often put the bread in a slightly warmed oven to keep it safe from the littles and pets while it went through the rising process. I peeked in, expecting to see loaves ready to bake. Instead, I found our calico cat curled up on the tea towel laid across the bread. I’m sure the horrified sound I made scared her as she quickly made her escape. I reshaped the loaves, replaced the tea towel, and let the covered bread rise again, sans cat. We also found the same cat curled up in a large, clean metal popcorn bowl on the counter, but that's another story.
After 40 years of breadmaking, my husband and I learned how to bake whole wheat sourdough bread. We prepped our starter, carefully feeding it every day. We named her Sourpuss, (perhaps as an unconscious nod to the cat in the oven) and started experimenting. Some loaves resembled the yeast free loaf from many years ago: hard, flat, dense. But, through practice, we have perfected our process. Our loaves now rise high and light and have a wonderful chewy texture and beautiful aroma.
I’ve baked bread to alleviate stress, to work through grief, to provide gifts for coworkers and friends at Christmas, and to feed my family. Countless loaves have gone to bake sales. One year, we sold fresh bread as a fundraiser for a mission trip. I love to drop off bread and soup to an ill friend, family member or neighbor. I now make mini loaves for my grandson. He, too, loves fresh bread. The bread making process has provided countless hours of satisfaction through the years. It's an art I appreciated in childhood, perfected in young adulthood, practiced and shared with my kids, and am now passing on to the next generation.
Is there a baked good or recipe that stirs up memories from your life?
I can smell your bread from here!