Christmas Memories

Christmas is my favorite time of the year!  I have so many memories from past Christmases; I could make a list a mile long. One of my favorite holiday memories as a child was sitting on bar stool at the kitchen counter at my parent’s house watching my mom bake homemade bread. Christmas records were playing in the background, and whoever was home got the annual lecture that there was to be no running or jumping while the bread was rising. For those of you who have never made homemade bread, lots of things can keep it from rising to its potential, and  jumping  is one of them. According to mom, for some reason the only time we felt the need to run and jump through the house was when she was making bread.

As a little girl, I would help my mom in any way she would let me while she was baking. When she made bread, I would help her count as she perfectly filled five cups of flour. Then I would wrap my little hand on top of hers and help her dump each cup of flour into the big, glass bowl that sat in between us on the counter. I watched her so closely as she measured, poured, mixed, and kneaded all of the ingredients together.  When mom was baking bread, no matter what corner of the house you were in, you could smell that heavenly aroma pouring out from the kitchen.

Along with the sounds and smells that make up Christmas baking memories, another reason comes to mind of why this recipe is so special-it’s my Granny Drew’s recipe. There is no bread maker with this recipe. You knead the dough by hand for ten straight minutes. It’s difficult, but I love it! Mam-maw Dottie, Granny’s daughter, has told me the story several times of when Granny tried to teach her how to make homemade bread.  Poor Mam-maw didn’t stand a chance. At the very beginning, she killed her yeast with boiling hot water and it all went downhill from there. So after my mom married my dad, she gave it a whirl. Needless to say, she had Granny’s approval. Since then, my mom has made this recipe and taken it to almost every family Thanksgiving and Christmas get-together.  This recipe is difficult, takes a ridiculously long time to make, but it’s the best bread I’ve ever had!

After Ryan and I got married, I wanted to learn how to make homemade bread just like my momma. So this time when I sat at the kitchen counter and watched I took notes of every extra special detail. Then she stood next to me as I kneaded the dough so I knew how it should look and feel. By the time we were done, I had succeeded in not only covering everything in her kitchen with flour, but I was covered as well.

Three years later, my Christmas music  blares, my husband hears the exact same lecture about no running or jumping in the kitchen, and everything  in my kitchen, including myself, is covered with flour.

Today, my mom tells me my bread is better than hers. Don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty delicious, but I don’t think my bread will ever be that good.

 

 

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