There were plenty of jokes about bread being made as soon as the pandemic lockdowns started.
Why was it that suddenly the food people wanted to make was bread? Maybe it is because there is an historic connection, a symbolism for bread that encompasses much of what we consider important and precious.
Bread has existed since the dawn of civilization, in various forms across the world. As grains were cultivated for agriculture to provide a regular supply of food, people stopped their nomadic lifestyle and settled down in towns. No wonder bread is often considered a comfort food.
In the beginning there was only sourdough bread. Did you know commercial yeast has only existed for about 150 years? Perhaps the recent surge in sourdough baking was a way to go back to our roots, a search for a connection to simpler times.
We still use the expression of “breaking bread” to signify sharing not just a meal but a convivial atmosphere. Even though there is a literal meaning of sharing food around a table, the implied meaning represents the acceptance of a shared commitment to each other as a common group.
I love traditions and symbols. I enjoy learning about those from other groups, and I have done my best to keep those alive that are a part of my heritage. Again, there is that sense of connection that I, and many others, cherish. I am happy breaking any kind of bread, just for the chance to learn.
Do you have any idea how many traditional breads exist across the world? Enough that you can bake for a long time and not run out of new recipes to try – and then we could talk for ages about how to eat it. If you’re only thinking about French toast or grilled cheese sandwiches, you’ve barely sliced through the surface.
I did an online baking class this week, learning to make babka and challah, traditional Jewish breads. These are the same basic dough, both braided before baking. Babka has a filling added to it for extra fun. Challah is traditionally served on the Jewish Sabbath and other holidays.
As much fun as learning to prepare the dough and master the braiding and twisting was to hear the stories that go with these breads. The number of braids can mean something, and when a large recipe is made, a piece is torn off to be baked separately as an offering or tithe. Babka (which means “Grandmother”) is said to be an inventive variation created by grandmothers with dough that was left over when making challah.
I realized that the stories, just like the bread, were symbolic of our connections to each other. Even though I was at home, watching on the screen with others from around the world, we were all connected by this same dough. We all felt a sense of camaraderie as we mastered that six-strand challah, and we shared our joy as we shared our decadent babka loaves in their tins. I was part of a tribe.
Bread might not be your thing. I must have an ancient gene, as I adore its simple elegance and amazing utility. I was intrigued to learn that bread was considered as essential as dishware in medieval times, with a slice called a trencher used as the base for your dinner instead of a plate. At the end of the meal you might choose to eat it… or give it to the poor, or to the dogs.
Any way you slice it – life or bread – you need to have something that keeps you connected. So, I am going to keep baking, even as the world opens up again. (Yes, I know that could be called a rationalization, but I am fine with that.)
If you’d like to join me, here’s a recipe for challah along with instructions on how to braid it.
This article is written by or on behalf of an outsourced columnist and does not necessarily reflect the views of Castanet.