How to Make Home Made Bread

Mom made great home-made bread. The smell permeated the house when my siblings and I came in from the cold after a day of sledding. Every fresh-baked slice absorbed the butter and gently slid down our throats. Just remembering the smell brings me back to a kinder, gentler, more simple time.

But that woman just would not give up her recipe. Not even to me, the youngest fruit of her loins!

Well, she wouldn't give it up without a fight, anyhow. Okay, "fight" isn't quite the word I was looking for. Perhaps I should have said, "she wouldn't give it up without being provided an incentive."

Never mind how the events unfolded, but suffice to say, she somehow found herself strapped a chair and somehow found herself listening to "Funky Town" over and over and over. It's hard to say how or why that happened. To this day, she does not speak of it. But some nights I can hear her cry in her sleep as she softly sings, "talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, Funky Town!" Dad says she hasn't been right since that day.

In my defense: it's really good bread.

It all started with me asking mom for what seemed like the millionth time, "Hey Mom! Can I have your bread recipe?"

"No," she said.

Well, what was I to do? By saying no, she all but forced me to strap her into a chair and torture her with an endless loop of a disco anthem!

After a half hour, she was willing to talk. Oh yes, she was more than willing to give me her bread recipe:

4 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tbsp salt
1 egg
1 packet of yeast

"How do I put it together, Mom? HOW DO I PUT IT TOGETHER?!?"

"Why are you doing this on my birthday?" she sobbed pitifully.

"Down, take me down, take me down to..."

"Alright! I'll tell you!"

I knew that she would.

"Empty the packet of yeast in an 8 ounce drinking glass," she said. "Then add a pinch of sugar and and ounce of very warm water. Then stir it up and let it rest. It will bubble up on its own. Then mix the other ingredients in a large bowl. When the yeast bubbles are near the top of the glass, pour them into the bowl too. If you need more water, pour it into the glass and get the last bit of yeast out. Mix it well and you've got bread dough."

I eyed her warily. Had this woman - the woman who gave me life - revealed her precious bread recipe in total or was she holding back?

"Gotta move on!"

"No - that's all there is to it!"

"Gotta move on!"

"No - really!"

"Gotta move on!"

"Stop! Please! I'll tell you the rest! Just stop!"

I nodded and she continued in a soft sob. "After you mix the bread together, roll it into a ball with your hands, then place it back into the bowl. Wet and wring a hand towel and lay it over the top of the bowl and wait 15 to 30 minutes. The dough will have risen. Punch it down, ball it again and let it rise a second time. Then punch it down again, shape it into a thick log and place it in an oiled bread pan. Stick it in the oven at 350 degrees for about 30 minutes or until the crust turns a deep brown. Then take it out, remove it from the pan and let it rest for a few minutes."

"And then?!? What then, Mom?"

"Then you can slice it and butter it!"

She passed out after that. Mom doesn't recall giving me her bread recipe. But I know she suspects I got it out of her in an interrogation room I like to call "Funky Town."