An Ode to Bread…

I walk into the kitchen. The smell fills the air. Warm, like a hug after a long tiring day. Comforting, like a mother’s caress. And I’m home…in the truest sense. Bread is one of those things that isn’t just about the end product, but also about the process, journey, effort and love that go into making it. I’m not talking about the cheap bread that comes in a plastic bag, I’m talking about the real deal. Freshly baked, homemade bread. I recently took a baking class, where I learned how to make various bakery and confectionery items. But my favorite classes were always about bread.

There’s something almost sensual in the way the dough is kneaded. Like you can take flour, yeast, water, sugar, and eggs, and literally dance around with it, while it incorporates into a dough that’s as soft as a baby bottom. It’s not just the hands that are at work while you knead dough, but your entire body. Mentally, you can let go of all your frustration, and embrace the art of patience and love. There is nothing more comforting than the scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air and teasing your senses. Nothing. Until you taste it. If you get it just right… you can glimpse heaven.



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