Sometimes you just need to make bread to switch off the screen and give your brain a break. To learn the art of something other than how to get the most likes on a post.
To relish the satisfaction of something gratifying that can’t be obtained in an instant and keeps giving for much longer.
Sometimes you just need to make bread to remind you that corporations often don’t have our best interests at heart. That processed, sanitised versions of things are no true substitute for things that used to be made with love.
Breaking through a crunchy crust to a soft, fluffy centre is not a sensation that comes with biting into a mass produced loaf.
Sometimes you just need to make bread to realise that diets are dumb. That low calorie, low fat and sugar free foods aren’t at all like the morsels that are made with ingredients you can see, touch and smell.
To realise that real food is meant to nourish, be enjoyed and can only be eaten in limited amounts anyway because our brain isn’t tricked into thinking it’s something different and then left wanting.
Sometimes you just need to make bread to realise we’re all connected. That pretty much every culture has its own version and making it unites as us one.
From roti to ciabatta and naan, bread may be different just as we all are, but we have more in common than we do that divides.
Sometimes you just need to make bread because a loaf cannot often be devoured alone. To get friends, family and acquaintances together to eat, laugh and make time for conversations that have been stonewalled by screens.
But you can also eat bread on your own, cut it up into slices to be enjoyed over time. Because the comfort of every bite gives a taste of home even when you might be far from it.
Recipe adapted from Taste: