November 16, 2015 by petrujviljoen
I’ve had to learn how to. Out here in the sticks – the closest shop’s choice is rather mediocre anyway so not worth the day’s outing to get when one’s run out. In the city a hop across the road would have what one needed (and didn’t). A hop across the road here would have one slipping and sliding, clambering, often on one’s backside, often on all fours on the way back up, down a 40m slope to the bedrock below along which a stream gurgles its way from waterfall to waterfall.
From bread alone one can’t live. An empty stomach won’t get one down that 40m slope and back up.
So I asked someone how to (bake bread). She asked if I could read. So I had to learn to decode ounces and grams and millilitres, how many tablespoons of flour constitutes a cup (I think it’s 16) and that 250ml isn’t always enough. I also learnt that most packages of most anything bears a recipe. The first time I made a date loaf, I had no idea it would turn out a pudding (really) – for which I didn’t have cream.
I recently made a butternut loaf (delicious), an olive and feta loaf, adventuring with herbs and spices I never dreamed I’d do. Jeez! A girl can do anything she puts her mind to!
bread as staple – life
entreats a complex harvest
- Embodied soul