Most of our bread is still store bought but we have been enjoying some warm fresh baked loaves from “Mr Loaf”.
Until recently, our bread maker had been relegated to the back of a kitchen cabinet.
We thought we’d haul it out and give it a try and “voila”, it still works. And, it’s pretty good bread.
I’m reminded of days gone by when I’d stand idly by and watch while Mom went to work on bread baking day. And no, she didn’t have a “Mr Loaf”.
What a workout! I’ll never forget the sight of that dear lady with a scarf wrapped around her head while she worked that dough in her huge mixing bowl. Kneading and punching and punching and kneading. She worked that bread like Rocky Graziano working the heavy bag. Once in a while, she’d let me throw a few punches into that doughy mass.
By the time she was done, 10 to 12 loaves of her one of a kind rye bread would be cooling on the kitchen table. There was nothing tastier than a still warm slice lathered in butter. The whole house would smell heavenly for days.
Not long ago, my sister suggested that I look through Mom’s recipe books and boxes in efforts to find that sacred bread formula. I looked, but I knew I wouldn’t find it. That recipe wasn’t written down. Mom just knew it. And she knew it because her mother before her had known it.
I guess we’ll just to have to make do with “Mr Loaf”. Sorry fella, but nothin that comes out of you will ever compare with Bette’s fresh baked rye.