The first time I tried making bread, it was a humble loaf of white sandwich bread. I remember carefully measuring the flour, watching the yeast foam in warm water, and kneading the dough until my arms ached. The process was surprisingly physical and demanded patience as I waited for the dough to rise, its slow transformation feeling like a small miracle. When it finally came out of the oven, golden and fragrant, the sense of accomplishment was immense. That initial, slightly lopsided loaf, with its dense but tender crumb, was more satisfying than any bakery purchase, because I had created it from mere powder and water.
I enjoy making bread because it is a grounding and creative process. It connects me to a fundamental, ancient rhythm of life that is both methodical and forgiving. The act of kneading is a tactile, almost meditative experience that quiets the mind, while the biology of fermentation feels like a quiet collaboration with nature. I find deep satisfaction in shaping the dough and witnessing its final transformation in the oven, filling the kitchen with a warmth that is more than just physical. Ultimately, I love making bread because it results in a tangible, nourishing product that can be shared, turning simple ingredients into a source of comfort and connection.