Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Grandma's Bread

It does not matter how many times I do the simple task of baking bread, it is always a very satisfying experience. From the time the ingredients come together to form the perfect dough, to the moment I'm buttering up that wonderful crust, I find myself very pleased with the entire process. Every time I knead the dough, I remember my Grandma in her kitchen. I would sit and watch her work that dough until it was perfect and when she was shaping the buns, she would always give me a playful smack on the cheek with the dough. And then I waited, and waited until it had baked and cooled enough to cut into. That slightly warm, freshly buttered crust, pleased like nothing else could, and still does today. I miss the company though, and I can never seem to get my bread the same as Grandma's. Have you ever noticed that wine tastes better with a good friend? Perhaps it's the same with bread.

I've shared this post over at Stephanie's beautiful blog for Roses of Inspiration.


  1. Very nostalgic post. I used to spend Summers with my Grandmother who ran a canteen. She would bake pies and tarts by the dozen and huge pots of soup would be a whole days project every Saturday. She fed a lot of people from scratch but bread was special. It was always just for us. I feel the same way about the warm crust... and the memories of my Grandmother's kitchen. Thanks for the jog down memory lane :)

  2. Your post about bread brought back wonderful memories for me... my mother baked up huge amounts of bread once a week, at least 10-12 loaves. I can't imagine baking that much bread, but she did, and oh the taste as it came straight from the oven... nothing else like it in the world! I bake my own bread now, but not as much as she does... and I agree that there is a very special joy that comes from the whole process!

    Visiting you from Roses of Inspiration :) Have a great day!

  3. Oh Andrea, what a precious post. I, too, have memories of my sweet grandmother making bread...she always hummed in the kitchen while she worked. The last time I was in her home was a few years ago when I went back to Canada for her memorial service and I must confess that when I walked into her kitchen I expected to hear her humming away....

    Lovely post, my friend. Thanks for sharing with Roses of Inspiration. Hugs!


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