Bread is a lot like life. One wrong move and you’ve got a mess on your hands. But when you get it right, you realize all at once that it was worth the effort.
For as long as I can remember, food has attached itself to some of the best—and worst—memories of my life. As a young girl, I can remember spending hours in my grandmother’s tiny kitchen on the south side of Chicago learning how to make the ethnic foods of my family—Sunday Gravy, cannolis, gnocchi, Italian Christmas cookies, Czech pastries. My mother, on the other hand, grew up on a ranch—and to this day, I haven’t been able to replicate her fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, and famous potato salad.
Before my generation, women in my family were raised to know their place. They were devoted and dutiful wives and mothers—and there was no room for want, or desire to fulfill their own dreams outside of the home. And so they cooked.
I come from a long line of amazing cooks, and I never felt as though I had attained the title of “Good Cook” until I met a woman named Naomi some four years ago.
I was a single mom for the longest time, raising three kids on my own. I didn’t have the money or the time to cook. My kids ate out of a box or a can for the first four years of their lives. But Naomi changed all of that. She taught me what women in my family had been trying to teach me for years.
Keep it simple.
She reintroduced me to the idea that whole foods were best. And like a sponge, I soaked up all of her wisdom—and got back to basics. Naomi has since moved on, and I have lost contact with her. But I am forever grateful for the gifts she gave me.
Ten years ago, my grandmother passed away. I wasn’t able to attend her funeral, because I had just given birth the day before to the twins, Michael and Alyssa. Weeks later, I received a box in the mail from my father. In the box was a large three-ring binder full of all of my grandmother’s hand-written recipes. It is one of my most prized possessions.
For the past two years, my family and I lived and worked on an organic farm. It was there that I cemented my place among the women in my family as a “Good Cook.” I learned about the value of buying local, and eating organic whenever possible. I realized that cooking with what you have makes for a far better meal than falling victim to the food industrial complex.
My family and I live in Madison, Wisconsin, now. And while I have become a farmers’ market junkie, and we’ve reduced our meat intake to one or two nights a week, because our budget won’t allow for local, organic meat every night—I still fall prey to certain pre-packaged vices. M&Ms, Taco Doritos, and the occasional Snapple.
But I’m trying.
Best White Bread
2 pkgs. Yeast
½ c. warm water
Pour yeast into a small bowl and add warm water. Let sit until yeast has dissolved, about five minutes. Stir to combine.
3 T. sugar
1 T. salt
¾ c. warm water
1 c. whole milk, warmed to 110 degrees
1 T. shortening
1 T. unsalted butter
6½ c. sifted unbleached all-purpose flour
Add half of flour to standing mixer and blend on low speed for three to four minutes, or until dry flour remains. Add remaining flour and blend until dough is slightly sticky, and leaves the side of the bowl. If necessary, add more flour, one tablespoon at a time until dough is right consistency.
1 T. olive or canola oil
Lightly grease large bowl with oil. Place dough in greased bowl and turn to coat the dough. Cover with a damp cloth towel and place in a warm spot. Let rise for 1½ to 2 hours or until double in size. Punch down dough and fold in to create ball. Cover and let rise for 45 minutes.
Divide dough in half and let rest for 10 minutes. Shape dough into two loaves and placed in greased rectangular or round loaf pans. Bake at 425 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes, or until crust is brown and bottom of loaf sounds hollow when tapped.
Immediately remove bread from pans and let cool completely on a wire rack before slicing or storing.
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