This is not what I intended to do my second B post on. Not at all. I was going to write about brooms, and there were going to be nice, clear, pictures of the broom company on Granville Island.
I didn’t get out to the broom company. That didn’t happen.
What did happen was I realized there are a few projects I want to accomplish this year. One of them is baking bread.
Specifically I want to bake a loaf of bread a week. From scratch. No bread machine, just the oven. I want to do this every week until it becomes as natural as breathing. I want to do it until I don’t even have to glance at the recipe; until I just know.
And I want to do this with gluten-free flours, until I find the just right recipe that makes a moist, fluffy loaf of GF bread. I know it’s out there. I just have to discover it.
You’re wondering what this has to do with religion. Why I’m blogging about it for PBP.
I am too, truth be told. There’s something there, something not quite tangible, that I can’t really wrap my tongue around.
Something about the breaking of bread and the symbolism behind it. Something about how bread is made with earth, air, water, and fire. Something about the gods, and harvest, and bounty and abundance.
I cannot find the words at this moment, but I know deep in my soul that baking bread will be a religious exercise for me as much as it will be a secular one.
I will bake bread for the gods, for my ancestors, for myself, and in the action and the communion, I will find nourishment.
I grew up with the belief that making bread from scratch was too hard and something I would not be capable of doing, along with most cooking. When I moved in with my significant other, I started to cook and bake. Tackling making bread from scratch, especially without electrical gadgets save the oven, was a big thing for me.
One of the first things that struck me about it, was just how completely sacred the act felt, especially the kneading of the dough. Like you, I am still working out the particulars as to why, and also like you, I link it to harvest, the elements, and providing nourishment.
I probably average 1-2 loaves per week, and after a handful of months, the recipe I used is memorized (I realized that this week!). So I fully believe you can do this, and am glad to see someone else out there who feels like me on the subject. <3
Bread is totally religious!
I too am planning to make bread this year- not just for Imbolc, but the rest of the year, too. My dad has scoffed somewhat- I think he doesn’t think I have the patience for the kneading- but I am accepting it as a challenge! I just need to find a recipe to start with…
Oh there is something very connective about making bread. I get that connection with many different types of baking, but with breads and the kneading. There is no separation of flesh from sustenance. It is akin to putting my hands in the dirt and working the soil. Direct contact. I wish you the best of luck!
I don’t do breads much anymore but still make sweet butter crescents for my mother. They have to rise three times the little fuckers. I have found that the new yeast cubes (their doughy and already to go at room temp) make it a more sure thing for the rise. I have killed more yeast than monostat, I swear.
They’re not their.
I peeved myself.
I think it’s the act of creating in such a hands-on way that makes bread making special. You’re really making something from almost nothing; flour, water, yeast and a bit of salt. Knead it, bake it, and voila! Pure deliciousness.
This is a great post. Direct. Meaningful. Can dance to it.