And so I start

I have a lot to say - were blogs invented just for people like me? What fun! It's scary and wonderful at the same time.

Food. I love food. Oh sure, everyone loves food, or at least likes it somewhat. Like Sara Lee, nobody doesn't like food, do they?

Anyway it's more than sustenance. In fact if that's what it was about, for me I would starve. I like a lot of things that aren't particularly "healthy", like bread. Love bread. Man may not live by bread alone but this woman could.

Bread and books

It seems I have always had two loves in my life; bread and books. Not necessarily in that order. Both are essential for life, at least my life. And besides bread, they say, is the staff of life. So the feeling I have must be universal. Bread the food and the concept has a lot of meanings to other people besides me, I find. For example, “breaking bread” with others symbolizes community. My own feelings about bread are probably less esoteric than that. I just love bread! An early memory about bread has to do with a book called Heidi. Heidi was a character, a young girl in a story that took place in the Swiss Alps. I must have read the book when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. Frankly I don’t remember the story line well. What did stay with me, and something I remember reading over and over, had to do with Heidi”s grandfather cutting off a thick slice of bread from a (presumably) homemade loaf and then spreading butter or cheese thickly on it. The author describing the thickness of the bread, the spreading of the butter and cheese, and Heidi’s enjoyment of it so convincingly that my mouth was watering at imagining it. It was as if I was there too.

In a family with seven children there weren’t many extras, particularly in my early childhood. Resources were spread pretty thin so most things that weren’t absolutely necessary just weren’t part of our lives. Although at the time that wasn’t part of my thinking, I must have felt deprived in some way. At least that’s what I imagine now. Pictures of me from that time do show a skinny little girl, but I have to admit that is mostly genetic.

However it happened, I developed a great love of bread. Not just your ordinary Webers white spongy bread. I’m talking about extravagant breads. Crusty sourdough. Fragrant rosemary/olive oil. Exotic chocolate-cherry. Satisfyingly filled focaccia. My introduction to fabulous breads, besides Heidi, occurred in my childhood. The bread that was atypical and showed me what wonders bread can be was Mexican pan dulce.

We lived in Orange County, which is about 30 miles south of Los Angeles. From time to time my parents would take the Red Car, which was a local train service that was operating at the time, into the city. We would exit the train at Union Station which was right next to Olvera Street or as it was known then, “La Placita” which means “the little plaza”. There was a Catholic church across the street from the plaza where we would go to Sunday mass and then afterwards walk to breakfast The nearby Mexican bakery had a fabulous assortment of different kinds of pan dulce in a large glass display case. Here were the plain bollilos that my father always had. They were crusty hard French type rolls with just a hint of sweetness.; a little butter and jam completed those. There were the semas or “semitas” that my mother would have. Light wheat rounds, slightly sweet, studded with tiny bits of cinnamon bark. At the time, I didn’t understand why they both always had those plain, and to my eye uninteresting, rolls. There were so many other appealing options. I loved it that I had so many choices. Each visit I would select something different. Sometimes it was the large round brightly colored thick butter cookies. Other times it was the “elotes” which means corn, because they were shaped and colored to look like an ear of corn. And then there were the torcidos, or twists, which were made with an egg and butter dough, like challah. I recall the gingerbread-boy like pigs, and the turnovers filled with all sorts of the usual fruit fillings but also with less typical pumpkin, which was somehow fresher tasting and not as spiced as the more familiar pumpkin pie filling.

After we each made our choices, mine taking the longest, we would go sit down at a table or booth, and our choices would be served to us along with thick flavorful spicy Mexcan hot chocolate. Pure heaven.

That was the beginning. Over the years, I have experienced more breads. That is to say, I am drawn to bakeries everywhere I go and so taste all kinds of breads whenever possible. Some are more successful than others. I discovered croissants some time in the late sixties. We were living close to Laguna Beach which was probably at the time the most sophisticated town in the area. There was a bakery there named The Renaissance which had foods and breads not usually found in our suburban landscape. After I discovered croissants, they were my favorite for quite a few years. Then, some years ago I found a new love which became my ultimate favorite, my most loved bread; brioche. Brioche, they say, is what Marie Antoinette was referring to in the French Revolution when she uttered her infamous phrase; “let them eat cake”. Brioche is cake-like. It is made with a lot of butter and eggs and is supremely satisfying. But it is bread. I have attempted baking brioche a time or two with no success. So I mostly leave it to the experts. I have accumulated a bunch of recipes however in case I ever can’t find a good French bakery nearby and am forced to try to bake my own which I would have to do as I cannot imagine life without brioche.

Then there’s my other love -books. Loving books really needs no explanation. Everyone loves books, don’t they? Well actually, in my case the books are truly related to bread. Books give me sustenance. They fill me up. I don’t know exactly at what age I started reading but I think it was pretty early on. I also was introduced to that most luxurious, yet most basic creation of modern life, the public library, at an early age. Since the day I first acquired a library card I have been an enthusiastic user of libraries. And wherever I am, whenever I’ve moved, one of the first actions I take is getting my library card. When I browse in the stacks, reading and sorting through the books, I am transported with each possible choice. When I take my pile of books home, and set them upon my nightstand, I feel rich. I am satisfied in a way I have no words to explain adequately, and that’s even before I actually start reading them!

Which takes me back to Heidi. You might say that particular book gave me the whole experience at that early age. A book with bread at the center of it. my idea of heaven.