It has been a good year for bread making. There seems to always be one dreary day a week. These days are crying out for cheerful bellies full of fresh bread. Even if I can’t find the motivation to leave the house I know I can be productive enough by getting the weekly 8 loaves done.
Pounding the dough first thing in the morning wakes me up and is a good work out. I then feel great anticipation as I gently place it in my grandmothers extra large bread bowl and wrap it. It is wrapped in my precious (and otherwise now unused) baby blankets. Cute and cozy the dough sits above the dish washer (where it is toasty warm) rising nicely while the washer chugs away. Panning the bread is done by happy hands, thankful to be productive on a dull and gloomy day.
In spite of the evening closing in, the house turns golden warm as the oven heats up and I rush each batch in and out . Extra little hands are eager to help me at this point as they all want to get their teeth into at least one loaf while it is still warm. However, I always insist they wait until the cooling process under the damp towels is done. With a heart full to bursting at another victoriously domestic day I bag the loaves and march them off to the freezer… while my family cuts into the sacrificial ‘tester’ loaf and gushes over its taste and texture.
At present, I am barely past the making of the dough stage and just the thought of our weekly home made bread routine playing out has put a smile on my face.
TTFN
I just love that you bake bread so well and so faithfully Becky. There is something about this simple, warm, tasty act that helps make a house a home in a big way. You are a lovely mother and wife to your family. Love you MOM