Thursday, January 1, 2009

Baking Bread

In today's what did I do what I wouldn't have if P. was here...

I baked bread. I used to bake a lot of bread, but it was increasingly a source of frustration. When we first bought our house in the country I hoped of a lovely country life with homegrown, homemade stuff, freshly baked cakes and bread and such. Later due to P.'s tendency to avoid company I found out that it will not happen. P. loves all those things, homemade, home baked stuff. He keeps telling how commercial bread is bad for you, and most of all how much cheaper it is to bake your own. Also I think he is a kind of "purist" (I would rather call it masochist), as he refused to compliment even the best bread unless it was hard as a brick and full of rye and oat.
I on the other hand think that there are middle ways. I mean you can make a bread that has rye and such and still soft and fluffy, but P. always dismissed my efforts as worthless. Also he increasingly acted if I committed a crime when I bought bread. I kept trying to tell him, that he is getting a maniac, that once in a while store bought bread can be nice, and a nice change...

Then I started working in the bank and my time became much limited, and since all the joys were taken out of my home-baking there came a point when I just refused to do it anymore. Since P. was home, and he just loves those "made" tasks (so he can complain how much he has to do), he took it up on himself. I could never decide if I should be angry that he took this thing away from me, or I should just be glad... Actually I was neither. His breads became darker, and heavier, and harder. Almost impossible to enjoy. Whenever he was away I bought the lightest, whitest fluffiest breads... and secretly wished I could enjoy the book called "French Bread" again...
Yesterday evening I made a bread. First time in years. It had rye, hard wheat, and oat in it, also bran, beside the white flour. The dough felt wonderful in my hand. The yeasty smell was lovely. And this morning when we cut it, the taste just melted in my mouth...

3 comments:

Isis said...

I for one have once tasted a "bread" of yours (pannetone) and I remember it fondly, so I can imagine what this bread you describe must have tasted like...

I too have a man who tries to take away all I like to do from me. Since he can't cook/bake, he buys stuff and then tells me since we already have it, I don't need to make it ! He says baking/cooking takes up too much time, time that should be spent paying attention to him I guess...

Good riddance, my friend. Your bread must have tasted of much more than just bread ! FREEDOM !!!

peony said...

It was a simple bread, yet it meant so much!

h3dakota said...

ROFL - my mouth watered thinking how good your freshly baked bread sounded. :D Of course, it helps that I am also making my grandma's "Chess Pies", so I am smelling those at the moment, too. Walnuts, fresh dates, eggs, butter, brown sugar, vanilla mixed up in miniature pie crusts - YUM!!