Semolina Sandwich Loaf

After an extended process of settling back in the Northeast and a long pause in baking bread, I am back, excited to try new recipes and to warm my own kitchen with many fresh loaves. I recently moved into my own apartment after three years of living in college dormitories. Having my own kitchen, making conscious decisions about the source and quality of my food, hosting my friends and loved ones for long, slow meals, and being blessed with my own oven, I am incredibly content with my current situation. As I enter my final school year at the university, I hope to incorporate baking into my weekly routine so that I am never in want of good quality bread.

Fig and Walnut Bread

My summer is coming to an end and with it my time in the mountains. When I come to a new place to live I like to warm the kitchen with an oven full of homemade bread, beginning my time there with good food and memories. But, I believe there is something to saying goodbye to a place with a couple of warm loaves, as well. These loaves bring finality to a memorable summer of friends, family, the outdoors, self-reflection, and new experiences. They are the last products of my treasured ritual of baking bread every week. They hold the last energy from my kneading with tanned arms, the last heat from the glorious August sunrays, the last stray ingredients from my cupboard, and the last bites of summer relaxation. So, as my parting farewell to these mountains I love, I baked these loaves filled with gratitude for the time I was given to spend here. I leave tomorrow to return to the east coast. These loaves and the memories they hold will travel with and sustain me through the journey.

Baking with Mom

My blog has been quiet for a while now, but that is not because I have not been baking bread. Rather, my mom has been visiting me in the mountains and we have been baking together. She has baked some of her standards, including a white sourdough with a delicately soft crumb, and I, my tried and true buckwheat sourdough. Baking with my mother is always relaxing and informative. We’ll enjoy slow afternoons together getting our hands sticky with dough and sipping on full glasses of red wine. She’ll relay tips on how she feeds her milk-based sourdough starter and I’ll explain my methods for kneading wetter doughs. We are certainly different bakers, each with our own styles and preferences, but we both appreciate each other’s breads and relish in thoughtful meals with the family. I ascribe my love for baking to my mother, who nurtured in me as a child an appreciation for putting time, effort, and understanding into the food that you share with others. Baking with her now as an adult is a gift and a true pleasure. I’ll continue my forays into the world of bread experiments soon. But, at the moment, I am enjoying the comfort of the loaves that my mom raised me on.