Sunday bread

We have taken to making bread every Sunday. In the past i have had a serious vendetta against bread-baking. Its in my blood to love bread. I grew up fighting for zwieback and stashing away butterhorns with my greedy fingers for later. I love this carbohydrate in all its glory. It is my weakness and my nemesis. Even when I've been the baker's assistant (mom's or grandma's) i always somehow managed to do something terrible. So I have decided to conquer bread with Daniel's help in a series of Sundays....

Our first foray was brioche (which we first made into rolls for Thanksgiving then later into a loaf for Christmas) a very rich velvety bread, heavy on the egg and heavy on the butter. The smell of this bread baking is ridiculous and one can't help but just gravitate towards the kitchen. The result is a dark and shiny crust and a soft golden interior. Perfect for eating and even better as french toast. But there is no shame in slicing it thinly, toasting it and making a fried egg sandwich out of it. The day after Christmas we had Ciabatta, some of which we made into little rolls for hamburgers and sandwiches and the rest into a big rustic loaf for slicing and freezing. The Ciabatta was a crusty bread with an airy center and perfect chew. It thumped like a drum when you knocked on it and toasted so beautifully straight out of the freezer.

Bread-baking has been a very relaxing Sunday activity and I look forward to the amazing thing that is yeast-and-flour-and-water, rising and baking. The smell is the warm velvety smell of home and family and comfort. There is no satisfaction like measuring, mixing, kneading and forming and pulling a hot loaf of bread out of the oven to cool and slice and eat throughout the week with soup, in a sandwich or sopping up a delicious sauce, knowing all the while that you made that bread with your own two hands. Stay tuned for more bread making chronicles to come.....Happy bread-making Sunday.