Bread story

I love bread.  I bet you do too.  In an effort to shed a few pounds (even before Christmas), I was laying off the carbs and sticking to fruit, veggies and protein.  I didn't miss the pasta or the sweets so much, but I sure missed my bread.  Now it's winter and every blogging minute someone is putting up pictures of their mouthwatering, carb loading, gluten filled puffy pillows of goodness.  Get in my belly.

I have a Zojirushi bread machine that is amazing, and I usually just put it on the "dough only" setting, then take the dough out after the first rise, let it rise again, and bake in the oven.  This is the ultimate comfort food for me, because a fresh warm slice always brings me back to the same memory .

Especially if jam is involved.  There has to be jam.  I'll tell you why.  When I was very little (4 years old) and we still lived in Canada, there was a brand of jam that came in a tin, I think it was called Empress and there was a crown on the label somewhere.  Anyway, one of my favorite snacks was warm fresh baked bread with strawberry jam smeared all over it.  My grandmother was always making fresh bread.  I think she used to have it ready to go before she even went to work in the morning(she could have used my bread maker).  One day my mother, sister and I were at grandma's, and she had bread in the oven.  My sister and I decided to go out for a walk.  Without telling anyone.  To the river. You know like the folk song "over the river and through the woods..."  Specifically to the dam, where the water poured through the gates with an incredible roaring noise and you could see the fish flying through the air, as they landed in the water on the other side.   Total kid magnet.  We were only 3 and 4 years old.

Across the street we went, through the bush (that's what we called the forest) and up onto the dam for some fish viewing.  I don't know how we knew which way to go, but we made it.  I remember it was very loud, with lots of water spray, all very exciting.  My mother was pretty excited too when she caught up to us.  Mad as hell excited.   I bet when she was coming after us her mother's heart was in her throat, not sure what she would find when she reached the river.  Boy, did we ever get in trouble.
I still remember sitting at the bottom of the stairs in my grandma's kitchen, with a tear streaked face, taking big gulps of air in between crying.  My grandma, feeling sorry for us, sliced the warm bread, loaded it up with jam and gave us each a piece to help calm us down.  It worked.

I feel very calm right now.  And full.  Thank you for listening to my bread story.  The clover leaf rolls are going in next.  Today's bread recipe was the everyday oat bread from this blog.  Yummy!