How to Bake Bread

To make a loaf of beer herb bread, you need to start with two packages of yeast. You sprinkle that over lukewarm water and stir to dissolve. After that, you fold in heated beer, sugar, salt, and melted butter. There’s no proofing the yeast in this recipe, and I like that. I hate proofing yeast because I don’t understand how it works. I think you’re supposed to see a bubble in the water after a while, but I don’t have the patience.

This recipe comes from Bread Book by Susan Wright and Irena Chambers. It was published in 1972 and looks like a recipe book that a bunch of church ladies put together at a Bible study cookie exchange. Except in this case it would’ve been a bread exchange. The cookbook belonged to my grandma, Clara Glunesserian Ayanoglou. When she died, I took this, along with a Sherlock Holmes book of my grandpa’s, and a locket with a picture of the two of them inside.

I have no idea why she had the cookbook, because my grandma never used them. Her recipes were created while she sang hymns and banged pots and pans, kneaded dough, and stomped around in the kitchen in her bare feet. My grandma never wore shoes and she never used cookbooks.

She also never shared recipes; none of the Ayanoglou women did. It could have been out of pride. Ayanoglou girls are stubborn and bull-headed. They love when people sneak into the kitchen to take a peek, a sniff, or steal a taste of what’s cooking, but they’ll act annoyed that you’re in there. And if you ask if you can help, they’ll slap your hand, tsk, or shoo you away. “Go play,” or “Pour some wine,” or “Fix my shower head. It’s broken.” And when you’re gone, they’ll put a hand on a hip and smile that pursed lip smile knowing they’re making a thing no one else can make, and everyone wants. Ayanoglou girls don’t need any help because no one else can do what they can do. I know because I’m one of them. I also know that if you’re an Ayanoglou girl, you need a recipe only you can make.

I’m over at Makes You Mom today where you can read the rest of this essay.  Pour yourself some coffee or tea, and come on over.