At my aunt’s annual soiree this past September, we made our customary jaunt down to the local bakery for our Sunday morning bread and scones. Once in the shop, I was immediately drawn to the little observation deck that overlooked the oven room. I planted myself at the glass-less window, leaned my elbows on the ledge, and scrutinized the baker’s every move.
I love watching professionals do their thing. They move so smoothly and confidently. I find it soothing.
The baker must’ve been accustomed to nosey people like me and chatted cheerfully while she worked. She explained the steam injector, opened the oven to show me the fire at the very back, and when I asked to see the starter, she even gave me (and the others who had finished purchasing breakfast and joined me at my lookout point) a little impromptu tore of the back kitchen.
Watching people work is the best way to learn something, I think. Why, just the other week I had Miss Beccaboo make bread for the first time. When I started explaining how to knead the dough, she interrupted me. “I already know how to knead, Mama.”
Dubiously I stepped back. She promptly dug her hands into the dough and started to press, turn, and fold like she had been doing it all her life.
“Did Grandmommy teach you that?” I asked, impressed and a little sad that I missed out on teaching my own daughter how to knead bread.
“No,” she said. “I’ve just watched you do it so I know how.”
And then she made a turtle shell out of the dough ball.
But back to that baker—I learned something from her.
Before docking the dough, she waved a flour-filled sieve over the loaves. Once the loaves were dusted à la Amelia Bedelia, she slashed a design and rolled the loaves into the hot oven.
When I quizzed her as to the purpose of the flour, she explained that it was totally aesthetics, an exercise in contrasts—the slashed-open part would brown up prettily while the top stayed a dusty white.
So now I’ve taken to dusting my loaves with flour before docking them.
It’s so simple to do, and it goes a long way towards making the bread look rustic.
This same time, years previous: light-as-air hamburger buns, roasting squashes and pumpkins
Blonde moment, OH that's how you make those cute "cuts" in the top of one's bread! 😉
Cookie baker Lynn
The bread looks so lovely that way. I'll have to try it.
Great reminder that you're teaching your children, whether you're "teaching" them or not.
you are truly a bread artist.
When I read about Miss B just absorbing the kneading technique by watching you, I remembered something: I made my first bread by myself when I was a newlywed. No one to teach me but books (my mother did not bake bread). But when I got to the kneading part, I just KNEW what to do. It just felt exactly right. I always felt that moment was holy somehow – maybe that sounds strange, but I do view bread as special.
Cool! Just goes to prove again that it's the simple things . . .
You Can Call Me Jane