i'd rather be baking

Everybody makes banana bread, right? That’s what I thought until I began bringing it to share with coworkers at various previous jobs of mine. People would go nuts. They couldn’t believe it. One lady told me that she makes her family banana bread from a boxed mix. What? I didn’t really know such things existed.

I was raised to believe that banana bread was what you did with those nasty looking, brown-spotted bananas that are otherwise completely disgusting. Mash them up, stir in some wet and dry stuff, stick it in the oven and something magical happens. That’s basically ten-year-old Laura’s understanding of the whole process.

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I’ve been wanting to make focaccia bread for a really long time, but I’ll admit, I’m a little lazy when it comes to the overnight proofing of breads. The whole concept kind of annoys me. Patience isn’t my forte.

I’ve had this focaccia from Simply Recipes flagged for quite a while for just that reason: no 12-hour wait is necessary! And last week I got a rather urgent craving for my favorite summer salad from Panera Bread. You know, that one with big chunks of bread, mozzarella, tomatoes, and red onions. The focaccia would wait no longer.

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It’s been an unseasonably chilly, snowy week here. I honestly thought I’d never tire of snow, but today, as May begins, it’s getting old.

And honestly, the cold, dreary weather feels like a reminder of other kinds of dark and dreary, of lonely and tired and frustrated. You know, the kinds of dark and dreary that plague us all from time to time, but seem more prevalent in places and roles that still feel new and uncertain.

And still I find myself reminded that beneath the snow, there are golden daffodils and bright pink tulips, poking their persistent heads through winter’s grasping chokehold, choosing to embrace what little sunshine they can find. It would be easy for them to succumb to the unexpected cold snap, but they don’t.

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One thing I’m loving about Utah is the abundance of cheap, beautiful produce. Recently this has meant apples (especially my favorite, Granny Smiths!) at prices I haven’t seen since last October. I’m not sure what the cause of this bounty is, but I’m not complaining.

I know what you must be thinking: it’s March, nearly April. Who cares about apples right now? And don’t we all have bathing suits to fit into soon, anyhow? Let me tell you: you need this bread.

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When I was a kid, my mom never bought white bread. When I asked her why, she told me that white bread was full of preservatives and wasn’t good for you. I’ve never been a picky eater, so that was pretty much okay with me.

She hasn’t tried it yet (due to the whole living 1,500 miles away thing), but I feel fairly certain in saying that she’d approve of this white bread. Because the pesky things that keep us from buying that American classic are the main reason I like to bake my own bread in the first place: that string of ingredients you can’t pronounce, let alone identify. I like to limit the unnecessary chemicals in my life. I know, I’m weird.

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