I began my bread baking journey many years ago in 1974 while living on the tiny island of Adak, Alaska. We were in the Navy and Ronald was stationed there as a search and rescue helicopter pilot. As a young mother, away from home for the first time (and this was way away from home) facing dreary, cold, snowy weather each and every day, I developed a sure case of cabin fever.
At that time in my journey I had not figured out how to get out in the weather and make the best of it. Afterall we had come to Adak, Alaska from Pensacola, Florida and it took some adjustment to reconcile the weather and its limitations. Margaret, our oldest was just a small baby of 6 months when we arrived on Adak and with Ronald gone most of the time the days were long and sometimes lonely. I needed a hobby and bread making became that hobby.
Margaret and I puttered in the kitchen most of the day. She would sit in her highchair and watch with interest while I mixed, kneaded and baked. The first attempts were disaster. However Margaret and I discovered that no matter how awful the bread looked or even tasted it always smelled wonderful while baking. The aroma was comforting even if the results were disappointing.
After one particularly ugly loaf was pulled from the oven one afternoon, I prayed out loud. "Dear Lord if You will just allow me to learn this bread baking, I promise I will give away a portion of what I bake each time I bake." The Lord was merciful and I improved. The next day I tried again to bake the perfect loaf of white bread. Success!!!
I went outside and with Margaret balanced on my hip and a loaf of fresh, warm bread on a plate in my hand I went to my neighbor's house. The snow was falling like a blizzard but I was so excited by my accomplishment I didn't even mind. I gave the beautiful loaf of bread to my Adak neighbor, Ginny Shira. The expression on her face when she opened the door to see me, Margaret and the bread standing there with snow whirling around us was wonderful.
To this day I give away a portion of what I bake each time I bake. If the UPS delivery man happens to my door when bread comes from the oven, he leaves with a loaf of bread. The giving is just that random.
It is the part of baking that brings me the most joy. Seeing someone's face when they are given a freshly baked loaf of bread is a joy for me. Everyone loves fresh bread. Even my dear friends with gluten issues or celiac disease love all that bread means and brings to our lives.
Yesterday Megan, baked a gorgeous and delicious Cinnamon Raisin Loaf. She had saved a portion for Laura and I to enjoy. I was so thrilled when she arrived at the bakery with her litte girls, Lucy and Olive. Lucy and Olive were munching on slices of fresh cinnamon bread. Lucy announced that they had brought some bread to us. The tradition continues....God is good.
Have a fresh baked day.
As a lucky recipient of many of those loaves, I can honestly say that those were some of the best times for us. Now that I bake bread myself on a regular basis, I always say a little prayer for the beautiful person who taught me how to make my first loaf of bread.
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