As we continue to simplify the holidays, herb and onion bread keeps writing itself back on the list.
It's mighty tasty. Savory with nice crust... dense enough to slice well and pop in the toaster. Good from the first-out-of-the-oven all the way to the dense crusty heel. It's weirdly egalitarian in that it accepts jam or honey as openly as melted cheese.
I think I keep it on the to-do list because bread-making is meditative
in a way that cookie baking is not. Bread making is leisurely, there are
lovely pauses while you wait for things to rise. It requires of me a
mindfulness that I don't get to practice often.
These past few years, we've been deliberate about making as much of our own food as we can. And we are lucky enough to live in a community of gardeners, bakers, and good cooks. The bread has become my annual meditation on community.
The recipe is Andrea's. As I read though it reminding myself of each step, I think about how she and I came to know each other. And how her new husband, Ken, has become a part of our lives.
The garlic I sauteed came from starts from Melanie, a student turned co-worker turned friend... and my garden mentor.
Marge, a brief neighbor, who came and went in a blink of a year, leaving us a fountain, a hammock, and several delicious mild onions I diced this afternoon.
Kate and Harriet, the neighbors with whom we share yard tools and house-watching, thinned out their garden a few years ago. The thyme and sage didn't make the cut at their house, but found a new home in our side garden, where they threaten to overrun their pots every year.
Cat and I planted the oregano a year ago and it still gives up enough leaves even in the winter for the bread to be properly herb-y.
These past few years, we've been deliberate about making as much of our own food as we can. And we are lucky enough to live in a community of gardeners, bakers, and good cooks. The bread has become my annual meditation on community.
The recipe is Andrea's. As I read though it reminding myself of each step, I think about how she and I came to know each other. And how her new husband, Ken, has become a part of our lives.
The garlic I sauteed came from starts from Melanie, a student turned co-worker turned friend... and my garden mentor.
Marge, a brief neighbor, who came and went in a blink of a year, leaving us a fountain, a hammock, and several delicious mild onions I diced this afternoon.
Kate and Harriet, the neighbors with whom we share yard tools and house-watching, thinned out their garden a few years ago. The thyme and sage didn't make the cut at their house, but found a new home in our side garden, where they threaten to overrun their pots every year.
Cat and I planted the oregano a year ago and it still gives up enough leaves even in the winter for the bread to be properly herb-y.
