Baking always makes me think of my parents. My father used to make the most delicious whole wheat bread when I was a child. Later, mother discovered the magic of bread machines and baked nearly every day in her later years. She would take loaves of bread to the neighbors along with homemade peach butter.
While the dough was rising, I poured myself a cup of steaming hot coffee and sat down to begin reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. It is beautifully written and has me hooked. I luxuriated in the quiet as the aroma of bread dough wafted througout the house. My own dogs at my feet. It's been a while since I just sat down and read. I have missed doing that. Over the past few years I have found it difficult to relax and just "be". I feel guilty if I am not doing something. Yet today I so enjoyed that quiet time.
Once the dough had risen, I cut it in two, pressed each half into a rectangle and spread sugar and cinnamon over the rectangles and shaped each rectangle into a jellyroll. I cut each into 12 pieces and placed them into some old cake pans my mother had that I had poured a butter/brown sugar/corn syrup mixture into. I let them rise again for a time and put them in the oven. Mmmmmmmmm...the aroma!
Twenty-five minutes later I turned them out of the pans and pulled one of those little delights away from the edge, sat back down with my book and savored the warm gooeyness. What a great way to spend the afternoon; I'd forgotten how wonderful that could be. I'm thankful I allowed myself to enjoy that simple pleasure.
1 comment:
MMMhh this looks delish!! I love baking and cooking festive meals.So sad you lost Mr Speakeasy...Such a gentle name for a cat.I must remember it for the next time I need to name a kitten.
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