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Home baking is one of those things “my grandmother used to do.”
The old German neighbor lady next door baked bread every Wednesday. How do I know? There was only a seashell driveway between her house and ours. In the South Texas coastal heat and humidity, with windows open, I could smell it! There were some days I and the other neighborhood kids timed it just right to get a warm, soft, puffy slice fresh out of the oven with a slather of melted butter on it.
A generation later, when the pandemic attacked us in Spring, 2020 and forced my retirement from teaching, I took up baking to keep my sanity. The greatest challenge I enthusiastically chose was baking bread with yeast. I worked with the dough to create a recipe fairly close to perfect (well, at least, not a disaster). Now I especially like to try flavored bread, breads blended with cheese, fruit, or Italian spices.
After a recent temporary pause to sell 2 houses and move to a senior living community, I feel a tugging to get back into the kitchen. But this time it’s different. Getting my fingers into the dough gives me a sense of challenge, creativity, and accomplishment – but especially – compassion.
When I see on TV, women, men, and children in Gaza clamoring and crawling over each other to get a pan of grain, I worry and grieve tragedies of war and forced starvation. Kneading the dough on my countertop is a metaphoric movement of pushing away evil and destruction. I pray for victims of abuse and violence.
What else can I do? Besides praying and financially supporting the ones in need, I’ll go back into the kitchen. I plan to reach out to a friend recovering from a serious accident; he likes a slice of toast at night before he goes to bed. I’ll bake yeast kolaches for a fundraiser bake sale.
Bread is comfort food. Even though we cannot personally feed the children in Gaza, there are ways to bring comfort to others who worry and grieve and are hungry for a kind gesture.
-by Jan
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