If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.
J. R. R. Tolkien
For the better part of the weekend, I’ve been at work, baking bread. Matt, my youngest, is having a party tonight, a Yule celebration, (I guess among Wiccans, calling it Christmas just isn’t cool), so I’ve been making sure there’s enough for the half dozen or so guests he has coming. At this moment, I’ve got rye, whole wheat, molasses, plain French batards, Anadama, seven grain, and oat bread sitting on the kitchen table, wrapped and ready for the freezer, (there’s no way this crowd’s going to eat that much.)
I’ve been baking bread now for the better part of my adult life. I started in part out of curiosity, and in part because as a young father and husband, I had to figure out how to keep my wife, Peggy, and kids fed. It might not always have been cheaper to bake my own, but I knew it was a lot healthier in the end. I’m not a chemist, so trying to decipher what the hell they’ve put into a loaf of bread from the bakery has been nothing short of a headache. The internet, of course, has been a help. Yes, I know it won’t kill me, (at this stage in my life, I doubt there’s much that will), but I’d just as soon taste the bread rather than the chemicals. Seems to be a smarter move.
While there’s still a certain necessity to baking bread, these days, I find I’m doing it more because of the satisfaction it gives. A well made loaf is its own reward in several ways, not the least of which being its appearance, as well as the flavor. You can’t have your bread and eat it, too, but you can take a moment to admire the work of your own hands. It’s a rare sense of satisfaction.
Years ago, I was given an Oster mixer which did a lot of the heavy lifting when it came to the kneading of the dough and the basic mixing for the ingredients. A nice machine, but it was falling apart from the moment I took it out of the box, and by the time we replaced it with a Kitchen Aid professional mixer, only the mixer bowls were of any further use. Frankly, I wore the thing out.
I’d always wanted the Kitchen Aid, ever since I saw the chef on PBS using them. It turned out to be a wise investment. The only problem I’ve ever had with it is the pivot pin for the power head keeps slipping out. I push it back in and get back to work. Obviously the keeper has popped off, but at this stage, I’m in no rush to replace it. I just keep an eye on it, and keep working.
Of course, my initial experiments in baking bread were, to put it mildly, disastrous. Those flat, gummy slabs of paste were not only flavorless, but the sort of thing that gave orthodontists nightmares. No one lost any teeth, but I suspect that was more luck than anything else. I was doing something wrong, and I had to figure it out. Given that I was the only person eating that… whatever it was – it sure as hell wasn’t bread – I either had to fix my mistakes, and learn from them, or plan on eating more gummy blobs of expensive goo.
Eventually, I began to figure some things out. For example, if you’re adding fats to the dough, such as butter or olive oil, you’re better off adding it after you’ve allowed the yeast to proof. You get the sponge going, allow it to double in size, start kneading in your flour, and around the mid-point, you add the oil or butter. By that time, there’s enough air worked into the dough to allow the yeast to do its job. Pretty simple, actually.
And with my first successful loaf, Peggy and I called all our friends, put on a big pot of soup, and had a great time feasting with our friends. It might not have been a caviar and Filet Mignon meal, but it was a great meal just the same. We got to spend time with friends, I learned I could bake, and hey, this time, no one complained of aching dentition.
As I said, I’ve got the Kitchen Aid, but I’ve learned over time that I’m better off using my hands. If I’m pressed, the stand mixer works great, but with my hands, I know what I’ve got, and I know what’s needed. The bread winds up just right, neither too dry nor too moist, and with the right flavor to it. This is particularly important if you’re doing something like oat bread or rye, since you’re counting on the flavor of those grains to come through. If you’re not, you’re better off just sticking to white bread. For those times when I find I’m using the mixer, I’ve learned what to look for when it’s at work, primarily from the way I’ve always learned: trial and error, (though usually with lots more error than I want to think about.)
Baking bread is something I enjoy. I wind up getting back to basics with my baking, and it’s a skill that’s served Peggy and me well over the years.
And in thinking about it, with the holidays in full stride, it’s the bread baking that helps put it in perspective.
I realize this time of year has taken on a variety of meanings over the millennia. Most people are will to acknowledge the reality that Christmas itself is simply the Christian co-opting of the Roman holiday of Saturnalia, a festival which included (wait for it!) an exchange of gifts among loved ones. (It supposedly also included orgies at one point, according to some pastors I know, but I don’t think Peggy would go for that.) But it wasn’t the only celebration that has taken place in the Northern Hemisphere in the darkest portion of the calendar year.
There’s been a variety of celebrations which have taken place over the centuries. Their traditions have been passed on over time, and in some cases, the pagan rites have become sanctified by the Christian faith and given new meaning. If you’re Swedish, there’s clearly some pagan background to the notion of having your daughters walking through the house with lit candles attached to a crown of greenery on their heads. The Christkindlesmarkt, the most famous of which takes place in Nuremburg, a tradition in many towns and cities in Germany, probably dates to Roman days as well, as does the practice of the Christmas tree. No doubt, Yule logs have been a part of European tradition at least as long, though they haven’t been always been called that.
What winter once was, according to Richard Adams, was bearable, when spent in the company of your family and friends. And the heart of this season is the celebration of that.
Things are tight for us this year. The trucking industry has taken harder hits than most with fuel prices escalating, and manufacturers going out of business. With the economy dropping head first into the compost, with the family members of friends in harm’s way, it’s shown to be a grimmer holiday season than most.
So, like a good loaf of bread, it helps to remember to get back to the basics.
I don’t have to have the stand mixer, or even the fancier sheet or loaf pans I have for my baking. All I really need is the flour, the yeast, a little sugar, some salt, water, and a little butter or oil. Two hands and a willingness to take some time, to invest my head and heart in what’s best for my family, and in a couple of hours, I can have a couple of loaves of bread. It’s more an act of will than of faith, though it’s for obvious reasons that the Church often cites bread in holy writ.
I’m well past the age when I want more crap. The greater gift is hearing from friends, companionship whenever possible, and a chance to reconnect with those I have come to respect, admire, and love.
And to be able to share that over a loaf of fresh bread…
