I have many fond memories of Mom making bread on any given Sunday during the fall and winter months. The furnace was her special place for the ceremonial bowl bread rising process. Like a kid in a candy shop, she'd relish in sheer delight at the site of risen dough.  Then she'd fastidiously knead the dough and allow the allotted time for it to rise again. I never partook in these events.  I merely watched her with sheer amazement. While I am no longer fearful of bread making myself (I've even made a Challah), I actually approach this … [Read more...]