From Scratch
My wife Michelle is a fantastic cook in general, but when it
comes to baking, she really excels. It
is apparent in observing her very manner while in the kitchen that, rather than
a chore, she is most content with life when she is baking. She enjoys baking, and you can taste it - literally.
She was raised on “the farm” at a time when all the
serious baking for the week was done on Saturday mornings. That included multiple loaves of bread that
would serve as a staple for all the meals.
(I stated that Michelle was raised on “the farm” rather an “a
farm” because when you are around farm people that’s the way they always talk
in reference to home and childhood. The
farm is a particular place. Despite the very
similar white clapboard house, the similar red barn nearby, all surrounded by the
same green fields, they always have a quite distinct memory of their particular
home farm.)
There is something special about baking. It is much more than simply a process for
making food. It is connection. It is hospitality in action. Good baking reveals deeper realities. Michelle’s Grandmother Isabelle was a serious
woman who much preferred ‘practical’ gifts at Christmas and on her birthdays. It seemed that she was always doing chores of
some sort or another. And yet, Michelle
fondly recalls that, as a young child on Saturday mornings, if you got too
curious and too close as Grandma kneaded the bread dough, she would quick whap
you across the face with the dough, leaving your shocked face full of flour. Yes, there is a bit of hidden whimsy in every
stern farm wife.
I know someone whose most prized possession is her
mother’s recipe box, because the cards inside are all written in her mother’s
own unique handwriting. In that same
line of thinking Michelle has enjoyed passing down the how-to and the love of
baking, especially with our grandchildren.
She has made it a point to invite them all for Saturdays with Grandma
that always include baking some treat.
I do recall one such morning when we had a house full
of little granddaughters who had just discovered to their deep sadness that
there was no fresh bakery in the house.
Samantha stared into the open pantry doors and inquired, “Grandma, do
you have a box of brownie mix?” Grandma’s
chuckled reply, “I don’t use a box Samantha, my brownies are made from scratch.” A long pause as Samantha continued to peer
into the pantry, her eyes glancing from shelf to shelf. A second question: “Grandma - - do you have
any scratch?”
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
Last month, with her birthday fast-approaching, knowing
well that her mother was also good at hints, our daughter Elizabeth just
happened to mention how long it had been since she had chocolate eclairs. So, Grandma did what she does best. She asked granddaughter Evelyn if she would
like to come for the day and learn how to make chocolate eclairs.
They made two batches. The first,
batch Evie assisted; the second batch Evie baked with some minor oversight from
Grandma. The next generations appears ready!
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