Bread. Love it, need it, crave it.

                                  

I’ve always loved the smell of pungent, fresh baked bread, because, like all favorite scents, it takes me back to a lovely time and place in life.

I fondly remember my dad making wheat bread in our breadmaker at home, me peering into the glass top of the machine and pestering “Um is it DONE yet?” (It never was!).  The whirring of the dome shaped machine and the fantastic, yeasty smell wafting throughout the house on a lazy weekend was the ultimate in tempting culinary perfumes.  When it was finally finished rising, proofing, and baking in the little bullet of an appliance, I would wait for my dad to lift it out, slice it up, and allow me to pick the perfect piece (the only kind of bread I would eat the crusts off at the time) and then slathering it with my favorite sticky sweet jam (cherry!)

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So pull up a chair, slice off a nice, thick slice of this loaf of baked loveliness, add melting butter and cloyingly sweet jam and call it a day my friend, because we both know that love and kindness are the bread and butter of how the world goes round.

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