Story Weekend: Bread
Long ago, before I was a writer and still had time on my hands, I baked bread. Two loaves every week. I also ate a lot of tofu and tempeh, but that’s for another post. Back to the bread. I even won a blue ribbon for my Fabulous Five Seed Bread at the fair in Del Mar, California. Those days are gone, and now I indulge in bread that other folks have made (usually the bakers at Whole Foods). Do you have a bread story to share?
If you’re new to Story Weekend, here’s how it works: I pick a theme and you share something from your life that relates to that theme, however you interpret it. Thanks to all of you who’ve been contributing. As always, there are a few “rules”:
▪ The story must be true
▪ Try to keep it under 100 words. Embrace the challenge! That’s about six or seven lines in the comment form. I want others to read your story, and most people tend to skip if it’s too long. I know how tough it is to “write tight” but I hope you’ll accept this as a challenge.
I love getting bread in restaurants whether it be rolls, muffins etc. My favorite is the hot loaf of bread that melts in your mouth. So yummy! So, when my friends and I tried a new steakhouse the other day, I expected the usual basket of bread, but hoped for the loaf. When no bread appeared, I noticed the folks at the next table, who came in after us, had bread on their table. So, I asked my waitress if we could have some bread. She told us sorry, they don’t have any. I assumed they had run out, and just accepted that there would be no bread for us. So, I was more than a little surprised when I noticed, walking through the restaurant on the way out, that the newly seated guests had bread on their table. Don’t plan on going back there any time soon.
How funny that bread is the topic. I love bread, as in I could live on bread alone. My favorite is a french bread that is only available for the most part in the county I live in, I found this out when I moved out of town and could not find it in the stores. Unfortunately I was just diagnosed with Celiacs Disease this month and now have to find a good gluten free bread. I’m not sure what will be more of a shock to my system.. The gluten wrecking havoc on my body or the lack of all bread products I normally eat.
My husband was diagnosed as pre-diabetic just over a year ago and has to count his carbs. We gave up bread due to the carbs. He lost over 30 pounds by sticking to less than 15 carbs a day. I have lost weight but am not as strict as him. I consider bread a treat and only eat it on occasion. like when I go to lunch with my girl friends. I sometimes feel like I am cheating when I order a veggie sandwich instead of just soup and salad.
We stayed overnight with good friends and were treated to fresh warm breadmachine bread and homemade jam before breakfast. I couldn’t wait to get my own bread machine and experiment with all kinds of heathy seeded breads myself – which I did. Well, the second time I used the breadmachine, I accidentally threw out the little paddle thing at the bottom with the crust, and I never could find a replacement. Now I do muffins.
This is making me hungry. . . although Betty is making me laugh.
‘Cast your bread unto the water and it shall return to you in many days’ was the topic of my confirmation semon when I was 12. I guess it means Pay it forward and it shall return to you 10 fold and it has. I learned the art of bread making by rising at 5am as a child to help my gran make bread without a recipe. Her life was all about a pinch of this and a dash of that and I cook the same way. Life that is lived too structured is a life lived without joy. When I was a teen wearing wayyy too much eyeliner I spent my weekends at the home of my girlfriend whose parents had us making qulits for a Head Start program for disadvantaged families and paying forward the gits of family and security that we all took for granted. Eke and Ed VanOorschot, artists of chisel and brush, who had 10 kids of their own, took my still unwrinkled hands and placed them in a bowl of dough and taught me how to be ‘one with the elements’ and I embraced it whole heartedly. They adoped my wildness and taught me that it was ok to be me. That colour and code is not important. That what matters is blending the yeast of your soul so that it rises to the surface and feeds the masses who need your help. During the dissolution of my marriage I made bread everyday for it’s financial and soul restoring powers. Punching down dough , well , I cannot tell you what I imagined at that time:} All I know is that for the people , from the people is what will heal this world. We all need to make a whole lot more bread. And the seeds shall free them and rise above the chaos.
Sheree, you move me, as always.
I also grew up in Plainfield NJ. I just read your first book but it will not be my last. Graduted from PHS in 59. It’s odd when you see someone from your hometown. Nancy
The Color of Heaven
I have cast my pearls
to swine and caught
a glimpse of hell.
I have heard
the silent skies, swelled
by the wishing well.
I have tasted bitter wine,
swallowed molded bread.
Sought out four-leaf
clovers and plucked out
Have seen some quick
dancing with the wind,
casting out my demons,
spinning out my sin.
Have heard the tongues
speak through tongues
of men, but only for
a moment in time…
The Bread and the Wine
the bread and the wine
Holy is He
holy is he.
The color of heaven
is blue. I gaze into his eyes
and catch a glimpse
Bread…I love homemade bread and rolls. I love to make it. My grandmother also made bread. I regret never having gotten her recipe. I only know that somehow she used the same recipe to make donuts too. Those were the best melt in your mouth donuts that ever was. She use to make them for Vacation Bible School and the Sunday School Classes. It was always a treat for us to watch her roll out the dough and cut them with a glass. Then the hole was made with her favorite thimble. But one time… I was sent to pick my grandma up in Ringling. She lived about 2 hours away from us and I took my little red Luv truck to bring her to my Mom’s house. I can’t remember exactly why there was sand in the back of my truck, but there was…we loaded all of her stuff in the back including the freshly made donuts. She had put them in a box and covered it with foil. I was young and not so bright then I suppose. When we finally got home and brought in her things, Sand was in everything. Even our delicious Donuts. Sand never tasted so great…Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying…My delicious gritty donuts. I do miss my Grandma.
Debra, thank you for sharing that beautiful poem. I just spent an emotional half hour on your stunning blog. I’ll be back.
Sooo glad I decided to write about parties, for it made me recall the fab Parrot Band we heard Wed evening so I wanted to listen to some Jimmy Buffet but realized we had left him in the CD player down the shore. Happily, he will be heading north via a friend who was still there; ’tis the season for JB tunes so he should not remain idle:)
While down the shore we had the BEST CRUSTY BREAD to make garlic bread with to go with my scampi (cannot get acceptable scampi out), which everyone ate up so that should tell the tale. If a good bakery or specialty shop isn’t available Nick will do the baking honors so he is ecstatic that Pearl Street Market on LBI in Beach Haven orders from an excellent bakery in northeast Jersey. If you are ever in close proximity, please take the opportunity to try them, you will NOT be disappointed!