Welcome to “The Pandemic Kitchen”
In the last post I spoke about the ability and desire to get used to rural living. Could you get used to this?
We’re all cooped up and went from full blown New York City living (my brother and sister work in NYC and have those sensibilities) to full stop in a New York Nanosecond.
I’ve moved out here for the duration and have to adjust to living with a family, not any family, my family, while trying to contribute and be helpful, and not get on anyones nerves. Since our lives revolve around cooking and the kitchen, I think I have my work cut out for me. This is not my kitchen so I will endeavour to leave as small a footprint as possible while still cooking.
As you saw from the ‘Pandemic Pantry‘ post everything is full of things big and little. It’s intimidating. I have never had two refrigerators before, Let alone a full sized pantry or three! I buy eggs 6 at a time and don’t use them all. I have never seen palates of eggs in a fridge, nor even conceived of how to use them all (hint – baking can use a lot of eggs). In a used Ricotta Cheese container is something labeled “Sour Dough Starter”. This container is where magic is stored. I don’t know about you, but that sounds really exciting to me.
Bread. Bread. Bread. More Bread. Ray bakes bread. OMG.
The first night i was here he made a sourdough loaf – which didn’t get a picture of.
The second day Challah.
Then a pair of Sour Dough loaves
The ‘bread making station’ in the kitchen.
This morning I woke up to the smell of Fresh Bread Baking and there are 3 sourdough loaves!
A Corona virus rasberry bombe
If The Pandemic Kitchen is a symphony, with many different sections – winds, brass, strings, percussion,
The bread baking is the bass drum or string bass setting the daily rhythm.
2 thoughts on “Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread”
I learned about baking bread and how connected it was to grief and mourning. It was 1978 and I was waiting for my son. Peter, to be born when 6 weeks before he was due he stopped moving and I knew the inevitable had occurred and he was stillborn. My obstetrician, an eccentric, old Jewish lady who dressed more like a wealthy hooker than a Dr., told me to go home and bake bread and she gave me her grandmother’s recipe for Challah. There was something so therapeutic in kneading that made me understand her advice. The aroma of bread baking produced an environment of peace and serenity but then the coup de grace was slicing and watching the butter melt on my own bread! I envy you in NJ. Go home and bake bread could be the best medical advice I have ever received.
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you made me cry.
thank you for sharing that.
Grandma’s receipe was a written prescription.
“I’d rather be a ‘good doctor’ than an “excellent physician”….dd
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