I get back from class and I am exhausted. The last thing I want to do is stare at more words, and exercise my brain after the three hours of mind-numbing lecture I just went through. What to do? Nap? I’m trying to break the habit. Eat? I just ate lunch. And then I knew what had to be done.
Whip up some homemade bread, that’s what. Retrieving my copy of Marcella Hazan’s “Essentials of Italian Cooking” I found the recipe for Foccaccia, a traditional type of bread. So, in a break between classes I was kneading flour, yeast, water, and a touch of olive oil into a ball. I let it rise while I was in class, and when I returned it was ready to throw in the oven.
The bread was pretty tasty in my opinioin, and it will supply some great sandwich bread for the next week, but more than anything it was a wonderful catharsis. For a few minutes I could take my mind of the responsibilities of my final semester at Butler University and slap a wad of dough against a table (it’s part of the kneading process, fer serial).