32
The Bakery
Posted by Claudia Moser
on
8:33 PM
in
GBE2
This week Beth made it hard for me, her chosen topic in the GBE2 was 'the bakery'. And now think Claudia, what could you write?
Recipe sharing would be too easy.
Bakerman song, not so original. Still I like to listen to it, so here it is.
What else would it be? And then I remembered my first experience with baked bread.
I don't think I was more than 5 years old, spending the summer at my grand-grandmother's house in a small village in Romania, called Cerbia. You would have troubles locating it on the map, but it is a magical place, so peaceful. My memories are all so alive and so happy.
I was with my grandmother, grand-grandmother and grand-grandfather at breakfast, when my granny out of the blue while eating a nice yellow omlett (the taste of real eggs, a delight!) asked why don't we get fresh bread today? I did not really know much of fresh bread, it sounded funny, as if the bread we had wasn't fresh. Little did I know.
My grand-grandmother answered that she does think it's a good idea and it would be a great opportunity to show me how it's made. Thus she took me into the kitchen to prepare the dough. She mixed flour, water, salt and yeast (with fast movements and great energy), making a small little bread which she placed on a cabbage leaf. Then she went with me to my aunt, who did own a bread oven (you know that old-fashioned one, which can be found in the rural areas). I watched and watched the oven, getting the heat on my face, starting to smell the bread. I was fascinated by the process, I could not wait to see the result.
In the end, we received the brownish bread, with a thick crust on which the cabbage disolved, with an amazing unforgetable smell.
I received the first end with thick rich country butter, the bread still breathing heat and melting the butter. I still can close my eyes and I have the taste on my buds.
For me somehow, that was the moment in time when I realise (probably not really 100% aware being so young), that baking your own bread is something special.
Most likely that was the trigger for my furture desire to cook, bake and prepare my own food.
Oh, that bread!
|
Recipe sharing would be too easy.
Bakerman song, not so original. Still I like to listen to it, so here it is.
What else would it be? And then I remembered my first experience with baked bread.
I don't think I was more than 5 years old, spending the summer at my grand-grandmother's house in a small village in Romania, called Cerbia. You would have troubles locating it on the map, but it is a magical place, so peaceful. My memories are all so alive and so happy.
I was with my grandmother, grand-grandmother and grand-grandfather at breakfast, when my granny out of the blue while eating a nice yellow omlett (the taste of real eggs, a delight!) asked why don't we get fresh bread today? I did not really know much of fresh bread, it sounded funny, as if the bread we had wasn't fresh. Little did I know.
My grand-grandmother answered that she does think it's a good idea and it would be a great opportunity to show me how it's made. Thus she took me into the kitchen to prepare the dough. She mixed flour, water, salt and yeast (with fast movements and great energy), making a small little bread which she placed on a cabbage leaf. Then she went with me to my aunt, who did own a bread oven (you know that old-fashioned one, which can be found in the rural areas). I watched and watched the oven, getting the heat on my face, starting to smell the bread. I was fascinated by the process, I could not wait to see the result.
In the end, we received the brownish bread, with a thick crust on which the cabbage disolved, with an amazing unforgetable smell.
I received the first end with thick rich country butter, the bread still breathing heat and melting the butter. I still can close my eyes and I have the taste on my buds.
For me somehow, that was the moment in time when I realise (probably not really 100% aware being so young), that baking your own bread is something special.
Most likely that was the trigger for my furture desire to cook, bake and prepare my own food.
Oh, that bread!
|
