Baking Day

I started baking bread regularly about 15 years ago, during a time when much of my life seemed out of control and letting my mind wander while putting my hands to work with flour, water, salt and yeast was a great comfort. I suspect that’s been true for many women over many centuries.

Today, the whole world seems out of control.

I like simple breads. Flour, water, yeast, and salt. Sometimes I’ll add herbs or nuts or dried fruit, and quite often I’ll add oats or rye or some other grain. Mostly it’s white flour with a little whole wheat thrown in to make me feel virtuous.

After a summer hiatus, I’ve revived my sourdough starter. It’s still a little wimpy, so today’s bread had the benefit of some commercial yeast too. I let it rise in bannetons, baskets lined with flour-dusted kitchen towels. One round loaf baked in my old cast-iron Dutch oven, which belonged to my sister Martha. One long loaf straight onto the baking stone.

It’s a good thing no one in my family is gluten-averse, because baking bread is a joy for me and I can’t eat it all myself!

“Avoid those who don’t like bread and children.” (Swiss proverb)