When I was growing up, we always had home-made bread in the breadbox. I have no idea where my insanely busy parents found the energy, but every Saturday morning was baking day. My parents had quite a system going. My mom made the dough, my dad did the rolling, and then my mom would take over as the oven turned dough into bread. When I moved away from home and started talking to other people about missing homemade bread, I realized I had been really spoiled.
As soon as I moved to the US as a newlywed, I bought a stand mixer for kneading dough. However, my bread ambitions were mostly squashed by a busy schedule and other priorities. I put up with the spongy grocery store bread and almost got used to it. Then I would go home to Sweden, taste the bread at my parents’ house, and remember what real bread tastes like. And for a while when I returned back home, I would make bread and then my busy schedule would take over and I would forget.
The same thing happened this summer. I went to Sweden (and Paris) and remembered what home-made bread tastes like. I returned home and made a batch of “tekakor” and then no more.
Now that I’m taking a break from work, there is no reason for me not to bake. So that’s what I did today! I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the morning (well, my sister ended up having to finish those up while I ran some errands) and right now I’m waiting for the bread baking in the oven.
Our apartment smells like cookies and curry (from lunch) and yeast bread. It’s a pretty fantastic combination. My sister is playing the guitar and singing over in the living room. My daughter is relaxing in the bath. In a little while we will light the candles on the kitchen table and sit down for our evening meal with fresh bread and left-over pasta salad from yesterday. I am once again reminded of the simple pleasures of life. I’d much rather be here than in a coffee shop or at a restaurant. Real food is good.
Like what you read? Pass on the goodness!
Jättekul att läsa! Fun to read!