Day 146: In polite terms, I might be called a "utilitarian" cook, i.e., I only cook because I have to eat, and dining out isn't an option. If it takes more than one pan and five minutes, I can't be bothered. Still, every rule has its exceptions, and the one deviation from norm in my world is that I like to bake, and particularly, I like to make bread.
I was in my late teens when I made my first loaves. They weren't exactly bricks, but I definitely didn't have the science down pat. I'd watched my foster sister's grandmother making bread, tried to remember the rules she'd laid down, like not forcing the dough to take more flour than it wanted, testing the rise with a pressed-down thumb, working the dough until it felt satiny under the fingers. Persistence pays off. In a few years as a young housewife, I was making bread on a weekly basis.
The tradition continues to this day. With the exception of the months I had one arm in a sling following a shoulder rebuild, I have made bread approximately every ten days for almost half a century. Bread Day is as much a part of my household routine as...well, I'd say "dusting and vacuuming," but I don't do those tasks nearly as regularly. I love the aroma of the rising dough (sourdough in this case), and of course nothing in the world beats the scent of bread fresh from the oven. Yes, it requires a certain degree of commitment and scheduling to set aside five hours for the process, but oh, the end result is worth it!
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