My Mother’s Bread 

Including her simple recipe for bread 

On the day of my mother’s funeral I found myself alone in her kitchen. The house was quiet, my children were sleeping, my nephew and husband were out for an early run and I was making “my mother’s bread”. The kitchen was still hers, it was filled with the things a great cook loves, I felt like she was there with me and I remembered the very first time she taught me to make bread. I was fifteen years old.

The day was cold, but sunny. I stomped into the house after having a fight with my father over something incredibly important but impossible to recall now, 40 years later. My mother asked: “Eileen, do you want to learn how to make bread?” I can’t remember my response and I can’t remember her teaching me how to measure and blend the ingredients but I do remember her guiding me through the kneading and shaping process. She said “learning how to knead bread will get your frustrations out” and she was right. Turning gooey dough into smooth, soft bread requires kneading. Kneading, takes physical effort, it is the process that develops the protein in the flour so it can support the bread as it rises. I complained to her while I worked the dough and made the bread. At the end of the lesson, I was no longer angry and I had two beautiful loaves of bread.

My next memory of bread baking was in a farmhouse at the off-campus housing of college friends. Once again it was a cold day and I know it was winter because snow was keeping us all inside. I decided I would make bread and again produced two beautiful round warm loaves that impressed my friends. I must have enjoyed the accolades because fresh bread has become my go-to recipe when ever I want to please and impress. When I brought fresh bread to my in-laws they were always kind enough to compliment me on my baking ability and when I feed my daughter’s friends with bread hot out of the oven, they act as if they have been treated to an expensive delicacy.

I have experimented with other bread recipes, but when home for holidays it was always my mother’s simple recipe for white bread I returned too. When my mother died after a long illness I found her hand written recipe for the bread I knew so well and on the day of her funeral I had the most extraordinary experience. I found myself making her bread, in her kitchen, for her friends and family, in her memory. I felt like she was truly there with me.

We can’t predict what will be remembered from what we share. The day my mother invited me to bake I did not know I would always carry a memory of her in that recipe. Ultimately it is not about the bread or the recipe it is about being with those you love, sharing yourself. I think of my mother every time I make that recipe and I wonder what memory my children will keep of me.

Recipe for My Mother’s Bread

3 cups warm water

3 cakes yeast or envelopes dry

1/4 cup honey

9-10 cups flour

5 teaspoons salt

5 Tablespoons oil

Combine water, yeast, honey. Stir until yeast dissolves. Let sit in a warm spot to “proof” for 5 minutes, it will have a soft spongy layer on the surface when ready. Add half the flour and salt. Beat hard with spoon until batter is smooth. Add remaining flour- blend well- pour oil over dough and knead in bowl , few minutes- no more than 2 or 3. Dough will absorb most of the oil.

1. Cover bowl and let rise in a warm place until doubled- about 45 minutes. Punch down and turn out onto lightly floured board, knead slightly.
2. Shape into 2 loaves put into buttered bread pans. Cover let rise until doubled about thirty minutes.
3. Bake in 400 oven for 30 minutes