Rustic white love

Baking sweets is great because the outcome is almost always (if you’re lucky) pretty to look at and scrumptious to eat. My newfound love however, is bread.

For some reason, it’s even more satisfying. I can’t quite explain the feeling but am guessing it’s because it takes quite a bit of patience to complete the task. Mix the dough, knead, and leave for 1 hour. Knead again, shape, then leave for 1 hour. Brush eggwash on risen dough, place pan in oven, and wait 1 hour. Under NO circumstances will I ever wait THAT long for cookies or cakes (macarons excluded) but bread? I’m all for it. Why?

Because it’s so fun to watch things grow. And like plants, your dough expands and grows right before your eyes (if you stare at it for 1 hour). Then it sits in the oven and slowly emits the most heavenly scent of a French bakery in your kitchen. Ahh… Such is bliss. Best part is of course, digging in. And there’s SO much you can do with bread. Sandwiches (meatloaf, peanut butter, and lemon curd in my case), croutons, bread pudding, soup-dip and duck-feed.

As rewarding as it already is, this newfound love has also made me realize that forcing myself to always order hot water instead of cold for the past few months left me MUCH more patient than I ever was before. Despite how I messed up my first bread recipe, I marched ahead and made another just before Bobo arrived. It didn’t even occur to me that I may screw up the 2^nd time. And even if I did, it’s just flour right? (…and eggs, yeast, salt… But whatever)