Enough ranting and raving. Whew. It's been a weird few days, no? I told my good friend Tanya that I've got a million things going, but I don't feel like I'm doing any of them well. I'm half-assed, I told Tanya. I wish that expression could be literal as well as figurative, but my exercising is half-assed as well.
Today, though. Today. I kept Sophie home from school because she looked exhausted. She's been wakeful in the night, and this morning I found her stretched out on the floor of her room sleeping so soundly that even as I lifted her back into her bed and covered her up, she stayed asleep. I was able to work most of the morning at my New Job while she slept into the afternoon. I opened all the doors and windows and let the sun shine inside. Glorious southern California winter. In the late afternoon, I began making dough for cinnamon-raisin bread. It was just about the most perfect dough I've ever made, white and soft and satiny and flecked with golden raisins. I did what's called a business letter fold and put it into a ceramic bowl, brushed some oil over it, covered it with plastic wrap and put it inside the fridge. It can stay there up to 24 hours, so sometime tomorrow I'll pull it out and shape it into loaves with a cinnamon swirl. Working with this dough made me feel whole and full-assed (what I am quite literally, too), and I wonder why it's been so long since I've done any baking. A neighbor came over at the point where the dough was coming together in the mixing bowl, and when I exclaimed over it, she claimed that she just never got into baking. She's an incredibly good cook, but she doesn't like measuring. I think people either like or don't like baking, and they generally have an intuitive feel for doughs and batters or they don't. I have always been a baker -- since I was a very young girl, and pretty much everything I've ever tried (bread, cake, pie dough, French pastry) comes out pretty decent. I'm grateful for that.
I'm grateful, too, for the sun and the orchid and the pink sparkly ornament from my childhood that hangs from the chandelier. I'm grateful for my friend Tanya for joining me in half-assery and for my friend Debra with whom I spent last evening. We watched a beautiful documentary about the photographer Sebastio Salgado called Salt of the Earth.* It made me glad to be alive right now on this planet, today. I urge you to find it and watch it, be transported out of this ugly old world into this beautiful world.
*Here's the link for the trailer.
You evoke such peace here, your daughter sleeping that deep sleep, the meditation of baking that I've watched my own girl get lost in, the company of women, and that film I will certainly look for. I am glad you had such a day and sprinkled that sense of being centered in the moment over me here. Thank you. I needed this. So much.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth, I am grateful for you. Your raisin bread sounds delish. It is poetry and art because you made it so by writing it out. Can't wait for our next adventure! Xxoo
ReplyDeleteThe trailer looked wonderful and I found other films I'd never heard of. I do love movies. I love baking too. I wish I had more luck with orchids. Mind seem to die. Have a lovely weekend. It's been warm here all week and most of the snow has melted. It's gray and rainy today though. We're going to visit our granddaughter shortly which will be almost as good as sunshine, actually better than sunshine if I'm honest.
ReplyDeleteJust...pure golden light. I can see it reflecting off of everything, including the raisins in your bread. I think that in this world we live in, we forget that as humans, we NEED to do things like make bread, plant things in the dirt, stop and watch how light kisses flower, share our thoughts with other humans.
ReplyDeleteThis post is like a love letter to us all, reminding us of these very things.
This post is one of those "small tears in the surface of the world that pull us through to some vaster space". In this moment, I am at peace. I am glad to be alive to read such beautiful words and to read the thoughtful comments that accompany it.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, beautiful you. All the things you've baked that you've shared with us look so fine. I remember watching my grandmother Martha bake in her tiny kitchen. She was so at peace, so capable and matter of fact, but in a kind of dream state, too. I believe it's a gift to be a baker and another kind of gift to be a cook. I have neither skill but admire the hell out of people who can do one or the other or both.
ReplyDeleteProbably the reason you became a chef/pastry chef, was because you already had an innate talent for it. It always looks so good and sounds so easy when you talk about it, that it makes me wish there was - smellablog.
ReplyDeleteI'm the only one in my family to inherit my grandmother's knack for baking. I can make her apple pie like I'm channeling her. But to do a dough that rises - no way. I always kill the yeast. I am envious of you that you can easily and confidently keep it alive and create something wonderful with it ! Give us a picture when their done!
Some days we just need to do whatever it takes to restore. Sounds like you did that for yourself and Sophie. Good job.
ReplyDeleteI don't like baking - too formulaic. However, I do lots of it, but have compromised by "sort of" measuring ingredients because, I tell myself, baking is one of the oldest forms of cooking, and if in neolithic times they baked bread without a scale, then I can too :)
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