Will’s World: You’re never too old (or young) to use your loaf
© Richard Stanton Without going all Nigella on you, there’s something sensual about making bread.
At least, that’s the way I’ve always thought it would be anyway, because I’m thoroughly ashamed to say that until a few weeks ago I’d never made so much as a single loaf.
But for many different reasons, I decided it was about time I did.
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First, for my entire adult life I’ve been involved somehow or other in the growing of wheat, so it seems a poor show that I’ve never actually baked with the stuff.
Second, we’re lucky enough to have both an outstanding independent butcher and baker in our local village (if only we had a candlestick maker to complete the set), and the bakery offers courses for beginners, so I thought it would be a good thing to support them.
Third, I read somewhere that breadmaking soothes the soul, and if ever there’s been a year that my soul’s cried out for soothing, it’s this one.
Finally, I’m always looking for fun and educational experiences to share with my numerous daughters.
This time it was the 11-year-old’s turn, so the two of us packed up our aprons and can-do attitudes, and excitedly headed off for an afternoon of father-daughter bonding over mixing bowls and scales.
Ancient grains
We joined the other nervous learners in the bakery, and before we started were told a few facts about the history of bread.
Incredibly, millstones for grinding grain have been dated to 30,000 years old, suggesting that bread was one of the first ever foods – it existed before humans dropped all that stressful hunter-gathering malarkey and turned to the stability and security of good old agriculture.
It has played a vital part in just about every civilisation that’s existed since, which is pretty cool when you think about it.
Disappointingly, my daughter didn’t seem as interested in all this as I was, so instead I “entertained” her dad-style with some bread-based song title puns – “Roll With It” and “All you Knead is Love” being the two I was particularly proud of.
No need to get a cob on, though, if you disagree.
Anyway, to the breadmaking itself. We were soon away, measuring out flour, salt, yeast and water and adding it to the bowl like two young wizards in a potions class at Hogwarts.
There is a certain alchemy to it, though, and it’s an incredibly satisfying and joyful feeling when you see the end results. You might even say there’s a bit of magic involved in the process.
Everything to prove
But our favourite part was the kneading of the dough itself to develop the gluten in the flour until it was smooth and silky.
I can see now why so many people turned to breadmaking during the Covid lockdown as a form of mindfulness in such worrying times – there’s no way you can doom-scroll through the abject misery of the news and social media on your phone when your hands are in such a sticky mess.
At the end of the afternoon, we were thrilled to take home several items we’d baked, like the budding master chefs we now are, as well as a few happy memories.
The final words go to my daughter. When asked by the lady teaching us:
“Do you help out your mum and dad with cooking dinner much?” she puffed out her cheeks and sighed theatrically, before replying with all the world-weariness of someone 40 years older, “Well, to be honest, I’ve got a lot on.”
I know exactly how you feel, kiddo.