This is the best bread I have made to date (if I do say so myself). Not that I have made many loaves of bread in my life, usually reverting to my lazy self and using the bread machine or making a no-knead bread, but this bread was made all by me. It is light and airy and tasty as can be. I know this not just because I ate it, and wanted to believe it, but because the children ate an entire loaf of it at dinner with our homemade chicken noodle soup. The soup by the way was also delicious but I can not take credit for that (The Husband made it).
Back to the bread, there is something so cathartic about making bread. The rhythmic kneading, watching it rise, smelling its goodness as it bakes. It brings a quiet warmth to your soul. It's hard to explain but it feels like home to me. The coziness and warmth of being home on a cold winter's day while baking bread and preparing a hearty meal. Each of us keeping busy with our own interests but knowing we will eventually gather at the table to be together as a family.
These are the day's full gratitude.
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