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 expansion 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 simple, fundamental ingredients.
I enjoy making bread because it is a grounding and creative process. It connects me to a timeless tradition and provides a tangible result from my own effort. The methodical nature of mixing, kneading, and shaping is a form of meditation that quiets the mind. Furthermore, the alchemy of transforming flour, water, yeast, and salt into a nourishing and delicious food never loses its wonder. Each loaf is a small, edible achievement, and sharing it with others adds a layer of warmth and connection that makes the entire process deeply rewarding.