Scent of Baked Bread
Even as I write this, I can still imagine the deliciously intoxicating scent of bread baking in the oven when I was a little girl visiting my grandmother, Mary. It seems I have no recollection of seeing my grandmother in any room other than the kitchen of her large two story brick sturdy home in Brooklyn. She was always busy cooking for each of her 12 children and baking bread was part of the equation. Though I was a little girl, not much older than five years of age, I enjoyed sitting on the high stool next to the counter watching her knead the warm dough. Her hands showed hard work and had stories of their own to tell of my grandmother's life. Kneading the bread seemed to be a cathartic activity for one so busy and tired. She seemed to have a rhythm all of her own with each fist gently pummeling the dough -- a tension and release that appeared to create a feeling of calm that seemed to erase the crevices imbedded horizontally across her forehead from years of nurturing each of her twelve children.
Waiting in childlike anticipation for the exact moment when the bread would come out of the oven, I would watch grandma get the next loaves ready to take their place. She had to bake several loaves to satisfy this large family and make it last over the next few days, which was not an easy task! The aroma would waft throughout the house, giving notice to each of its occupants the magic was in store for them! My reward for sitting patiently alongside my grandmother was to receive the very first taste before any of my 8 uncles and 3 aunts would eventually make their way into the kitchen to yank off a piece of freshly baked, warm bread that would make a slather of butter melt over it, looking as if it were hugging the piece from end to end!
My grandmother died when I was nine years old but even now, when I smell freshly baked bread, her vision appears before me with a slew of wonderful memories of that special time together. Realizing the effect of scent on memory, I knew that when I had my own daughter, I would reenact those special moments together. So, together we would sit and create our own magic, kneading and weaving our own stories which would become our own unique history. Baking bread allowed us this special quality time together when we could talk and laugh about the days events and get to know one another by experiencing something special together. There is something so satisfying about tasting one's own creations that store-bought goods will never substitute. Though the loaves disappear ever so quickly once removed from the oven, the memories from each and every crumb linger on from generation to generation.
Tags: Baking memories
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