Bread is a kind of holy thing for me. There are so many thoughts and emotions involved in working on the fields, flour mills, bakeries, and home kitchens. We are all joined together in a mysterious chain. It starts from the seed and grain and ends to the warm bread that nourishes both our body and soul.
Among the black and white photos from my childhood, there is a particular one taken on the fields in Northern Finland. It must be at the turn of the 1950s and 1960s. There he is, my Grandpa from mother’s side, in his old pair of boots, patched clothes, and a worn-out cap, sowing seed into a field a decade after the wartimes. He looks serious and concentrated. I can imagine that he felt kind of proud after fighting many years for this piece of land. Now, they had a peaceful time for farming again, for letting the barley grow and Granny to bake some bread for the family.
I love baking. Warming the oven warms up my heart, too. I have learned a lot from my older relatives. For me handling the flour and other ingredients is a matter of respecting food. I feel privileged for the opportunity to bake for the people I love. As I handle the dough, my attitude is transferred to it. If I’m happy and gentle – and treat the dough like a baby - the baking will be a success. But the dough can sense, if I’m angry, and will not rise well.
After reading the above, you can understand why I simply had to write a book about bread, too. I want to teach children something about sharing your food with those who need it. I also want to show respect to the peaceful times when baking and eating bread at home is possible.
What did I say, this is a mysterious chain!
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