in the studio
Yeast. Flour. Water. Salt. These simple ingredients are all we need to make bread, a staple for feeding millions, these plus time, energy, and intention.
A couple of weeks ago my nephew spent a few days with us while his mom was at a conference. He’s a good kid but has his challenges, too smart, too sensitive, only child, tough divorce, and thirteen-years-old. We recently attended his Bar Mitzvah where he was truly exceptional, leading the service with his beautiful singing voice.
“Do you want to help me make flat bread for dinner?”
This young man was a different person without his mom around, easy-going and open to new experiences. He was amused when I explained how the yeast eats the starch and farts out gas to make the bread rise. Score one for Aunt Cameron with the fart jokes.
work in progress
He measured the ingredients then combined them with the 100 strokes specified in the recipe. He could see and feel the strands of gluten begin to form. I turned it out onto the counter and pulled the floury mess together with a few quick kneads before I turned it back over to him. Kneading and adding flour, he could feel the dough become alive and elastic in his hands. He gave it a few affectionate pats before we covered it with a towel and set it aside in a warm spot to rise.
It’s always a pleasure to uncover the bread and see that the yeast have worked their magic and it was an extra treat to witness my nephew discover this for himself. It had doubled in size and was nicely rounding the towel above the top of the bowl. Punching it down, he could hear it squeak and feel its life in his hands. Bread is important not only for sustenance, but is an important symbol in Judaism. We bless the bread on Shabbat. We tell the story of Passover, when the Jews had to flee Egypt so quickly they didn’t have time to let the bread rise. Now he had his own experience to add meaning to the rituals.
Forming the loaves, smelling their mouth-watering aroma while baking, and then finally tasting the loaves he had made, was a little miracle. Transforming these simple ingredients with time and intention created a bridge between us, family that is separated by many miles, and eating together was the gift we shared.
The gift he gave me was a reminder that all making is creating a transformation, whether making bread or art. Bringing together simple ingredients, adding time and intention, to create something new is a gift. And sometimes, when we are lucky, the reminder of the value of this daily practice comes from a 13-year-old boy.
work in progress
