Homemaking Arts

Homemaking Arts

I’m baking bread. I can smell it while I’m writing. It’s 3:30 in the afternoon and I’ve washed three loads of laundry and baked three different bread recipes. It’s been a good day so far.

When I filled out my blog profile I put the words “homemaking arts” on my list of interests. Imagine my surprise to find I’m the sole blogger in this category. I don’t believe for a minute it’s true. Either the other writers don’t think of these things as a bona fide interest, or they have broken it into smaller chunks such as cooking, sewing, gardening, etc. I suppose no one has declared laundry or defrosting the freezer as worthy of putting on their profile—things I’ve done in the last two days.

I once read an essay by Wendell Berry in which he said we need to renew the homemaking arts. Fine for him to say, I thought. I hear he doesn’t even type his own manuscripts. His wife uses an old typewriter. He doesn’t have a computer. I guess he’s a purist or something. Probably just old fashioned. He farms and writes. He plows with horses.

I’m interested in sustainability, same as Wendell Berry. The more I learn, the more I’m convinced our environment is under siege and it’s our own fault. We are consumptive to the death of us—or at least to the death of our children and grandchildren's inheritance of the planet. It's enough to send me back to the old ways. (Please excuse me while I go empty the oven and the dryer.)

I hope to write about some of my homemaking arts--including laundry-- in my next few blogs. Writing is a way to discover what we think, so perhaps I’ll develop a bit more clarity on these arts as I continue with the topic. Now, about baking bread.

It is easy enough to get excellent bread in a store. Even if I want specialty breads or a “homebaked” style I can purchase it at Buehlers—our best local supermarket chain. At health food stores like Wooster Natural Foods you can buy Ezekiel Bread in an orange wrapper. It is made of sprouted wheat and contains the ingredients mentioned in some obscure Bible verse in Ezekiel. So, why bake my own?

Since I defrosted the freezer yesterday I realized there is room in there for some bread. If I buy the kinds of bread I prefer they are expensive. It was a cold and seemed right for baking so I got out my old recipes. I baked French bread using the recipe in the More With Less Cookbook. I used my new authentic French bread baking pan. (I bought it at Ms. Gadgets at Berlin on the fateful day Java Jo’s burned). French bread has the fewest ingredients—water, oil, salt, a bit of sugar, flour and yeast. I used white high-gluten flour which isn’t best if you’re striving for authenticity. You'd want regular unbleached flour. The loaves look a little oversized and soft, but they’re nicely browned.

Next I turned to the tan-covered Kidron Mennonite Cookbook and a recipe for 100% whole wheat bread. This is Leora Gerber’s recipe and I remember it from back in the early 1970s. Leora developed this recipe herself and perfected it. It’s more challenging to use only whole wheat, but the bread has a soft moist texture if it's done right, and a nutty flavor. The recipe takes powdered milk, honey, butter, and two eggs. Today I made it using organic wheat flour and two cups of organic spelt flour. The recipe made one regular sized loaf and three smaller loaves.

My final bread batch was a recipe for oatmeal bread that I saved from a long ago bag of oats. I compared several recipes before choosing this one. This one had more oats than the others. (I recently learned I’d dropped my cholesterol by ten points just by eating oatmeal every day). This recipe also calls for molasses. I used my locally grown and pressed sorghum molasses. In both the wheat and oatmeal breads I used half butter and half organic first cold pressed olive oil. I rarely use margarine or shortening anymore. I still like the taste of butter and the fact it’s a natural food.

Much of my day was taken up with producing our “daily bread.” Bread has so many religious and spiritual meanings for me as a Christian. Buying a package makes it easy to forget the truth of bread. When I make my own, I measure each ingredient. I see the granules of crushed wheat. I watch the yeast bubble in a cup until it practically overflows.

For a few years, I had a bread machine. It died in a suicidal leap from the counter one day while it was mixing. I decided not to replace it. (I’m sure Mrs. Berry doesn’t have one!) I knew I could live without it, because I had before. The machine is convenient in its own way--you don’t need to concern yourself with temperatures or kneading. Today, each loaf I baked had to be kneaded by hand--for ten minutes. I set the timer and worked the dough while I watched birds at the feeder and thought about the arm and shoulder muscles I was exercising. While I’m kneading I can pray and send love to important people. Value added.

Will I begin making all our bread? Doubtful. But I do know it’s a good way to spend a winter’s day. By baking my own bread I may have saved a trip or two to the store. The bread will be stored in plastic I’ve saved from bulk food purchases. I’ll be able to pull it out if guests come. It will taste good for supper and make great tomorrow’s toast.