Bread

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I have a batch of bread rising on the counter. I love to make fresh bread for our family. I love the smell of bread baking, and the taste of warm, fresh bread. My men argue over the end, or the heel.

I grew up eating bread my mother baked; in fact, I remember mixing and baking bread for our family when I was four or five. My dad was very ill and we were out of bread, so I mixed up mom’s usual batch of eight loaves of bread so our family would have some for the week. Mom was surprised to find it rising on the counter when she returned home from the hospital from visiting dad that evening.

Today, dad is the bread baker in their home, and it is good bread. The day my aunt was buried he came home to tell mom he didn’t want to have to go without homemade bread if something happened to her. That day she taught him, and he has baked most of the bread for them since.

I haven’t always baked bread for our family. I haven’t always had the time. Now I have time, and I bake the bread. I like it better, and I know it is better for us.

Eve baked for her family. She couldn’t go to the local store, or even a local bakery to buy bread. There wasn’t one! I wondered how she figured out how to figure out how to grind the grains. Then, how did she learn to develop yeast? Maybe she didn’t. Certainly, she developed flat bread. I think it didn’t take her long before she developed “sour dough” creating bread that rises.

“I picked up the stone and purposefully rubbed it against the grains, grinding it against the larger stone. When I looked again, the grain had a fine, soft texture. It looked easier to eat. What could I do with it? I ground more until I had a small pile of ground wheat. Hmm. What next? How can I make something good to eat with this? I gathered it together, added a bit of salt, honey, oil, and water, mixing and kneading it.
What do I do with this, now? There was a hot fire inside the stove, so I dropped the mass on a flat stone and slid it in. A lovely odor soon exuded from the stove, making my mouth water. When the dough was browned I pulled it out and cut a chunk off the end. Lovely.”

(Eve Remembers, Angelique Conger, 2014)

It could have happened that way. I like to think it did. Most people enjoy bread of some kind with each meal. Do you? What kind is your favorite? And do you bake your own?

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