Drool.....

Joel and I decided when we got here that making our own bread might be something we could take on, considering that we knew how expensive bread could be before we even got here. After our first experiences with the high prices of packaged bread, and the long waits for fresh bread, we bought some flour and started searching for a recipe.

Today, I had my first go at making bread. I used this recipe, which I found by searching around vegcooking.com. I wanted something simple, but that also sounded delicious. Who doesn't love some crusty warm French bread- as they say on the site? Well, I tell you what. I love it!

My results

I can't say it took too long to make; it a little work earlier, wait time, a little work later, and more wait time, and it was done. I just cut into it and ate the piece that is missing from the picture above smeared with a little butter. It was still warm. It was delicious. It was crunchy on the outside, and thick and heavy (in a good way) on the inside. Wonderful. Apparently, I am good at this. :)

I definitely plan on continuing this yummy new money saver. There really is nothing like knowing what is in it, whose hands touched it, and well, making it yourself. I have already decided that I want to make ciabatta (because I love it) and probably something with lots of seeds or nuts or something in it. I may have gotten this talent from my spectacular mother, who baked Latvian rye bread my entire childhood. Although I don't plan on trying to make Latvian rye, maybe one day, my kids will tell the stories of the bread their mom used to make.

Oh, what's that you say? You want the story? Well...
My mom was a stay at home mom before we all hit school age. I'm pretty sure from what I remember and what I've been told, that she was sort of a supermom. (I mean, she still is now, don't get me wrong, but we're talking about the days when mothering was her job.) She had a huge vegetable garden, she made our baby food, she used those same vegetables and fruits in our food when we got bigger, and she made plenty of foods homemade- including Latvian rye. Now the thing is, she didn't just bake bread (and piragi- you know, onions and bacon and herbs baked inside an eggy dough?) for us, she made it for lots of Latvians who resided in Indianapolis- for a price of course. Now, I might very well be exaggerating things, or just not remembering them right, but here is what I do remember-

Mom had a huge bread trough that she mixed dough in. She used her hands (and her heart, no doubt) to mix up all the ingredients. I remember what it looked like when the dough would rise. I certainly remember the smell of the yeast (the smell of which brought me right back today). I remember that we had loads of bread pans that she would fill with ready dough. Some were large and some were small. (I liked the small ones myself; they were cute.) When the bread came out of the oven, everything smelled fabulous, and I'm sure us kids got burned once or twice for sticking our fingers or noses too close to the whole works. By the time the bread got tipped out of the pans, we were clamoring to see who would get to eat the first piece of bread spread thick with (melted) butter. It was always the end piece that we wanted- must be that, out of the oven, the crust was still soft and warm, and had more flavor- it was good. I know for sure that we must have always wanted to eat more than we were allowed, because Mom would always have to tell us that we had enough, because a certain number of loaves were for so and so and so and so.

The best part of the memories I hold is after the bread had been put out to cool with tea towels draped over the loaves, and the kitchen had been cleaned up, I can just picture my mom giving one last wipe down to the counters before tossing the last towel (er, more likely hanging it up somewhere), switching off the lights, and heading out of the kitchen; all of us heading for a much deserved afternoon rest. (Add this to a growing checklist of reasons to be a stay at home mom- create fabulous, warm memories for my children to reflect upon as they journey through adulthood.) Good times, good memories, and hopefully (barring that today was a fluke), good skills passed down. :)

I have to tell you that Joel was kind of keen on making the bread baking "his thing". I pondered letting him do so. But then, while I was pondering the other night, he made himself some dinner (not something that happens often). He made Spaghetti Bolognese (otherwise known as spaghetti with meat sauce). The funny thing was that when he made it, he didn't reach for the jar of spaghetti sauce that was in the cupboard, but the jar of tomato sauce (as in, pureed tomatoes) instead. He added a whole load of spices to it with no particular plan, and then, to my horror, also added potatoes AND (wait for it) avocado. *shudder* I love this man, but, I have decided, that unless it's one of his specialties (pancakes or cheese and Vegemite toasties), I'm going to go ahead and leave the communal cooking/baking to myself. Goodness knows what kind of bread we might end up with otherwise. Eeek!



Oh, and if you're wondering, yes, he did eat his own creation, twice (he ate the leftovers the next day). Unfortunately, all I can say this proves is that his opinion of food holds no water- so if you want to know if *I'm* a good cook, ask someone else. :) (I do love him though, yeah? That is clear!)