A Lesson From Bread
Of course, the one day inspiration strikes me to make homemade bread, it apparently hit everyone else in south Orange County. I went to six stores before finding a pound of whole wheat flour and some yeast. When I say yeast, I don’t mean the little less-than-a-dollar packets with enough yeast for one loaf of bread. The only place that had yeast was Smart N Final, the in-bulk store. So I had to buy a sizeable carton of yeast, enough to donate to every desperate yeast-seeking bread maker in this hemisphere and still have enough left over to make a loaf a week for the next year...for every resident of Rancho Santa Margarita.
I was so excited to pull out our Zojirushi breadmaker that rests comfortably inside a lower kitchen cabinet except for the days when Chip pulls it out to make homemade cinnamon rolls on occasion. I’m not even a bread person, but a fresh, hot slice of homemade whole-wheat bread with butter just sounded so good to me here in the midst of our COVID-19 “shelter in place” season.
After a short orientation from Chip on how to use this gadget that has historically been in his domain, I carefully measured the ingredients and dumped them one-by-one into the pan. Three and a half hours later, I announced to the family, “Ten minutes to hot, good bread!”
Ten minutes could not pass soon enough. I draped myself over the bread machine, savoring the aroma and letting the elevated temperature of the plastic lid warm my body all the way to the core.
The minute the “Keep Warm” signal came on, I lifted the lid, donned my oven mitts, and dumped the fresh steaming loaf onto my cutting board. I sliced off the end, smeared on some butter and handed the first piece to Chip, followed by Chance and Charli. The first sign something had gone awry was when Chip commented, “Wow, it’s really salty.” This coming from a man who takes the salt shaker to the table with him. The kids echoed his sentiment. Finally, I sliced off a piece for myself. They were not exaggerating! This loaf could accurately be called “salt bread.” I poured orange blossom honey on top to salvage my slice. It helped a bit, but the consensus was – make croutons out of it and start a new loaf.
I was utterly puzzled. I’d read the directions so carefully and was certain I’d used the correct amount of salt – 1 ½ teaspoons. Obviously, there was something wrong with this recipe. Chip asked, “You used a teaspoon for the salt, right?” How insulting! “Yes, I used a teaspoon...this one right here.” I pulled the spoon out of the sink and showed him. It clearly said ½ tablespoon. Instead of 1 ½ teaspoons of salt, I had dumped in 1 ½ tablespoons of Morton’s goodness. The spoons appeared so close in size, how could using the wrong one make that big a difference?
I washed the bread pan and started a new loaf, this time reading not only the recipe carefully, step by step, but also taking great pains to identify the correct measuring spoon. Flashbacks of the first salty bites of the previous loaf lead me to scrimp just a bit on the 1 ½ teaspoons of salt the recipe called for. I wasn’t going to take any chances.
Three and a half hours later, I pulled out the second hot, fresh loaf of bread produced in my kitchen in one day -- an all-time record for the Espinozas. Once again, I sliced off the end, buttered it, and handed it to Chip. He did not get the squinty face like with the first slice of the day and immediately gave his stamp of approval. I tried a slice myself and was relieved to have accomplished my objective – to produce a warm, tasty, healthy comfort food for my family to enjoy. Now on my kitchen counter are two Ziploc containers – one clearly labeled Salt Bread waiting to be transformed into a boatload of croutons, the other housing a loaf of whole-wheat bread just begging to be sliced, toasted, smeared with butter, sprinkled with cinnamon and a bit of coconut sugar, and enjoyed at the start of a new day, a new week, along with a cup of coffee.
Here’s what I learned from today’s salt bread fiasco. Seemingly small things can make a huge difference. Looking at those measuring spoons, I marveled at how the larger one could yield an almost inedible loaf of bread while the other smaller one, apparently not that much different in size, could produce an appealing indulgence for my family.
As we move through these next days and weeks together, I think we would do well to remember that even the smallest act of kindness or generosity can make a big difference to someone. A call or text to a friend or family member. Flowers dropped on someone’s doorstep (thank you, Mahsan!). Ordering pick-up from a local restaurant to help support them. A smile and sincere “thank you” to the grocery clerk for working so that you can bring home food to your family.
God, show us how even our seemingly small acts of kindness can make a big difference as we all settle into this temporary new normal. Give us hearts of generosity, compassion and grace as we all travel these uncharted waters together. Amen.
