Bread

When your hands are covered in flour you have only one thing you can do. Knead dough and shape dough. I don’t know when I made my first loaf of bread. I’m sure that it was heavy and awful; baking is in my blood though. I have flashbacks to my granny’s shop and all the wonderful things she made. I grew up there eating lemon bars, brownies, cheesecake, apple pies, and the cake tops that she lovingly frosted and layered to look like small cakes for us. Pulling handfuls of chocolate chips out of the big Tupperware container was one of my favorite things to do. I have a major sweet tooth.

My recent interest in bread has been purely medical. When my brain gets overactive, underactive, or any other way, I need an escape. Something mindless and repetitive. Something that yielded a result that was tangible. When I am anxious or depressed I think in scenarios and figments. Nothing is real and everything is fading. So to be able to make something that you can then touch, cut, eat, and share positively is satisfying and calming.

Bread is three things. Flour. Yeast. Water. Other than that you can add whatever you want, but at the core it is those three things. Feel like adding an egg? Olive oil? Honey? Do it. Who cares. This is your bread. How will you know till you have tried? I have never measured. I rarely think about what I’m doing. I just put warm water in a bowl. Yeast into that warm water. Stir. Wait. Add flour. Stir. Wait. If the yeast has activated the mixture will be soupy and bubbly. Add more flour till a slightly sticky dough has formed. Wait for it to rise. Then my favorite part. Kneading. Laying this sticky mess on a floured counter and kneading it till it becomes a smooth, not sticky, elastic ball.

Then you wait again. That might be the best part. Waiting. It’s the time to sit in a chair and have a reason to just sit there. Someone asks what you are doing? Tell them, “I’m waiting for my dough to rise.” Just wait for forty minutes to pass. Work some more. Wait. Repeat. I think it’s like breathing exercises for me. Taking time to just calm down and remember that everything is going to be alright. Sadly this leads to my least favorite part of the whole process. Baking your bread. I over check my bread. I do it every time. I just hate burning things so bad.

Generally it turns out good. Then after spending a few hours making it, you don’t want to eat it. Give it a few hours though and I will eat the whole thing. That’s why it is best to give it away as fast as I can. If not I’m going to get so fat. Giving it away is also great because it makes you feel useful. Something you just made is going to help someone to live another day. Most times they are happy to get bread too. Who dislikes bread?

That is my mental therapy. It brings me back to my childhood. It makes me feel connected to my baking family history. It is calming repetition. It is a creative outlet. It makes your house smell amazing. In the end it is bread, warm soft bread.

What is your creative therapy? Let me know, I might want to try it.

-Tom