|Bread-making is an act of love|
When I bought the 50 kg bag of flour, my children declared that their mom is crazy. They joked for half an hour about my excessive way of being. I was a bit sad that they could not understand that this was for their own benefit, as they were demanding fresh bread every day. Kids don't calculate the work or preparations it takes to accomplish such a task. Later, each one went in their rooms to study. My eldest daughter came to me an hour later stating that she liked the fact that I have bought this huge bag. She said it gave her a sense of comfort, a safety net. She emphasized that it made me even "crazier" because the bag was stored next to me in my tiny office next to the kitchen.
I will stop writing now, for I'm going to work on my olive bread. My father-in-law gave me olives in brine that he picked from his garden. I will take out the core and mix the olives in my dough. I will mix two types of flours to give a robust feel to my bread. I might add a tablespoon of olive oil to accentuate the taste of the olives. I will leave the dough to rest, tucked in carefully in my oven, away from drafts. Hours later, because it's so cold, I will place the dough on a tray to rise again according to the shape that I desire. I'm into a great big ball of bread these days. Once risen, I will cook the bread and enjoy it with my family. I think I will make pumpkin soup tonight too. I'm getting hungry!