“The smell of bread, fresh from the oven is quite something. To me, it’s the smell of comfort.
Both my mom and her sister discovered the joys of baking their own bread in the early 70s. My mom embraced bread making because, as a physician, she was increasingly concerned about the health impacts of consuming “industrial food” and wanted to decrease our family’s reliance on it. My aunt started making her own because she and her family moved to a farm in a remote part of northern Virginia and, in her words, “it was easier to make bread from scratch than to drive the 25 minutes to the supermarket [and back].
Mom toggled back and forth between a busy medical practice and being a hands-on parent to three, so she didn’t exactly have a whole lot of room to spare in her schedule. Yet, she always found the time to bake bread on Sundays. She used to say there was something therapeutic, meditative even, about the process of rhythmically working the bread. To her, it was the perfect Sunday afternoon chore….”
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