A favorite repost for the holidays.... Mom used to bake bread quite often when we were growing up.  As a young kid, this activity seemed marathon-like.  We had to wait forever for the yeast to rise, sometimes twice. I’d watch Mom combine the yeast with water and flour, stir it rapidly and then cover the bowl with a raggedy old orange dish towel.   Like a cub following its mother, I’d wander behind her into our secret “furnace room”.    The furnace room was off the laundry room and it was always dark and tropically warm.  Mom would place the … [Read more...]