Thursday, 19 June 2014

Hoca with his challah

Aritsan, stone baked, sour dough - bread, bread, bread. Bakers are booming - the Brits have finally realised that bread does not only come in two forms brown or white. The number of blogs, books, websites, micro/artisan/pop up bakeries are mind boggling but trying to buy a decent loaf of bread still seems to be out of reach for the majority. A highly esoteric item, a bit like a decent education.

My brother bakes beautiful bread. He delighted us all at my father's 80th birthday celebration. A reunion - four siblings returning to the family home all together for the first time in sixteen years. A menu was agreed with each of us bringing a variety of dishes to ensure a sumptuous feast and relieve my mother of the onerous task of lunch for twelve. Deep grained rivalries and the desire for parental approval resulted in a family bake off. Plates were piled with the plethora of choice. Endearing looks invited compliments. Sweetmeats eschewed in favour of that delicious home baked bread. The memory lingers.

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