Thursday, January 21, 2010

Theme Thursday: Bread

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
—Pablo Neruda

No poet I. Not even bread baker on any regular basis. That has been D's role for almost 20 years. He actually makes the bread we eat every week, or when we've eaten more than our usual fill, whichever comes first. Oh sure, we pick up a baguette or Niedlov's multiseed/grain now and again, but the bread that L has grown up on is the bread her father bakes.

I find that quietly amazing. There is a connection between baking, poetry, and peace. A space in the day for contemplation in the kneading. The small miracle of the rising. Oven spring! Exciting. Final nourishment after the baking. No bread tastes just right as his does.

L's bread is pictured at right. A lifetime of seeing her father create something on a regular basis for family consumption has spurred her interest the same.

While I make the popovers and the biscuits on a whim, his baking continues assuredly. Ahh.

20 comments:

Brian Miller said...

i do think there is a connection...they each take time and patience. happy tt!

California Girl said...

You are lucky to have fresh bread every week. My father would make it on an irregular basis and it was always a treat. I, alas, do not.

Betsy said...

quietly amazing is right! Can I borrow him for a day? ha!

mouse (aka kimy) said...

what a wonderful quote.

and how wonderful to be married to someone who bakes fresh bread on a weekly basis.

I bet your home smells divine! lovely that L has picked up the passion!

Roy said...

I bake, too. Not as regularly ar D, and sometimes I cheat and use the bread machine. But there's nothing for slowing your life down and calming the hurrying thoughts like mixing and kneading the dough. And the smell while the loaf rises! Ah, heaven!

JeffScape said...

Heh. You had me at Neruda. ;)

Gledwood said...

That's probably why I can't write poetry any more. Though I used to write some terrible cod poetry as published on "Gledwood's Poetic Blog", or whatever it's called... yukky stuff!!

studioJudith said...

Ahh .. .
I haven't thought of popovers
in a very long time.
Just the mention brings memories
of those warm treasure served
on the lawn at Jordan Pond House -
circa 1972.
Thanks for bring that small delight
back -
Judith

Poetikat said...

As a poet, I think I'll have to just up my intake of bread then.
How wonderful to exist mainly on the home-baked loaf. I envy you.

Candie Bracci said...

Really nice.I really like the quote.Happy TT.

Jill said...

What a gift he gives to each of you by this act of baking bread!
BRAVO!

Wings said...

Definitely can be something theraputic about baking!

Tom said...

make love, not bread!

Why not both!

subby said...

I love to make the biscuits! I'm always trying different mixes. And one of our cooks onboard( back in me Navy days )always had fresh bread on hand :P

Eberle said...

I love the trio you make of poetry, bread, and peace - they do have a great deal in common, it seems to me. All of them create a recognition of the connection between the smallest everyday things and the greatest abstractions. Thanks!

C.M. Jackson said...

wonderful quote and beautiful loaf of bread---how lucky are you? Happy TT-c

Betty said...

I love to make cakes (and eat them) but tend to rely on the breadmaker to make our bread. Your post has made me want to 'have a go' myself. I like the picture. What's in the bread?

Kris said...

You can't eat Vegemite on a poem!

Betty C. said...

Damn, I forgot to post yesterday morning and couldn't post in the evening. Am going to make up for it with two posts today...blog on!

Stephanie said...

Delicious.