Lovin' from the Oven

I wanted to title this one “The Skill That Will Change Your Life.”  But that sounds so presumptuous and expectant.  Although I do believe this one simple skill has the power to enhance your life by at least a little bit.  It was when I was first married.  I’d tell Todd, “You make the dough and I’ll do all the rest” as we set up to make pizzas.  Yeast made me nervous, I had no idea how to work with it.  Eventually I had to take over for whatever reason, probably because he was gone; he was always gone.  Over the years as we visited his parents I ended up in the kitchen with his mom as we made meals and cleaned up.  She taught me the skill of bread making.   I began with the simplest of all breads: French bread.  I have never, ever had this one fail.  I think it’s because the rising part is totally easy—you can’t get tunnels, it’s never doughy, you can make the crust as soft or as crunchy as you want—even burnt it tastes like you made it that way on purpose.  I ventured on to regular white bread and then whole wheat bread.  Soup bowls, rolls, bread sticks, cinnamon rolls, orange rolls, Dutch oven bread. All with varying results.  Lots of flops.  I gravitate to some favorite tried and tested recipes, once I find something I like I’m satisfied and don’t need to keep making sure.  I’m good.

So many otherwise courageous and competent friends of mine shy away from working with yeast.  Now I think that’s funny.  But I get it, I used to be like that.  It’s just that now that I know how easy it is, I long to convince everyone to just try it.  I’ve taught people—you can make bread by hand (all you need is a bowl and a spoon) in easily 10 minutes.  Then it needs to sit for about an hour, and then it takes like 3 minutes to shape.  Just let it rise and bake.  The only parts you could get hung up on are the water temperature and how much flour to add.  Really warm but not hot water, dough the consistency of a new baby’s bottom.  There are you tube videos I’m sure.  I loved the pictures in my cookbooks showing me what the dough should look like step by step.  You can even use a thermometer for the water part if you are that kind of person.  Fool proof.  Figuring out that is such a small investment for a life-changing skill.

It’s powerful.  When you walk into a home where bread is baking, something happens.  You kind of soften, you nearly start to salivate, you might be transported back in time, oddly enough it can even make you feel small and vulnerable.  Like a child who is mothered.  Its smell is simply intoxicating.

Once you learn to make bread all sorts of options open up.  You welcome dinner guests because you know that if everything else about your dinner fails, you can all satisfactorily fill up on bread and it will still be a successful evening.  Once the bread is made and cooling, just having that truism in the back of your mind helps you settle as you make soup or whatever else you’re making. And so inevitably the rest of the dinner—calmly assembled—turns out.  Bread helps you relax.

Bread makes meals a cinch.  Once you’ve got bread, all you need to do is whip up a quick pot of soup or a salad with grilled chicken and you really do have dinner on the table in less than half an hour.  Put together some cinnamon rolls the night before and a special breakfast awaits you in the morning.

As the gift of choice, it makes an excellent sympathy or peace offering as well as the perfect “welcome to the neighborhood” or “I didn’t know what else to get you so I just made you some bread” gift.  Good for grandpas and bachelors, busy moms and large families.  What teen wouldn’t love his own plate of warm cinnamon rolls or paper bag of garlic bread sticks?  Timeless, unisex, cold or hot, loaf or rolled, there’s no right or wrong.  Although you may get an odd look because not many people give gifts like this anymore.  But I’m old-fashioned; bearing a loaf of bread in a cloth towel conjures up images of a pioneer family meeting the new neighbor two miles away.

Bread comforts and warms like little else.  On a cold January night, what sounds better than a thick beef vegetable stew in a crusty bread bowl?  What better side dish for a hearty lasagna than warm French bread or Parmesan bread stick?  I think more than anything else, it makes you feel like you are safe, at home, nurtured, taken care of, like you can take off your shoes and linger.  I suppose if we had a recliner it might beckon you as you waited for the warm bread to emerge.  The smell wraps you in a cocoon of calm allowing you to leave the world at the door, to slow down and to savor the simple pleasure of breaking bread with people you enjoy.

I’m no expert, I’m totally just a regular mom, not a fantastic cook.  But I will teach you what Todd’s mom taught me.  Come on over.  It will change your life.