Worth the Wait

 Yeast. Grainy blah beigeness with a bit of hot water blossoms into life before my eyes. I first inhaled that creamy, warm aroma in my grandmother's kitchen. Graham wheat flour gave her tawny brown loaves their coarse, grainy textures, and I've spent a lifetime trying to replicate the assurance that everything on earth is all right. Baking with yeast takes longer, but it always does it for me. 

Although my mom was famous for her yeasted cloverleaf dinner rolls, it wasn't until I was in my 20s and married that I tried baking with yeast myself. We were in Austin, Texas, a crunchy hub on the growth edge of opposition to the industrialized food supply. Our food co-op offered bulk cheeses, unrefined grains, and other natural foods. We were hip and made everything from scratch. The writings of Adele Davis, and both Nearings, Helen and Scott, inspired ways to become self-sufficient and live the good life with great intention. Although it would be a few more years before Gloria Steinem popularized the term consciousness raising, we were undoubtedly a generation of people trying to wake up. How to reconcile aspirations for whole-earth interconnectedness with the horrors of the Vietnam War? That was me at home caring for my baby son and learning to make bread. Another mother for peace; this was how I might save the world.

Throughout the years, baking with yeast always lifted my spirits. Christmas stollen, pecan sticky rolls, pizza, whatever form the dough took; for my unscientific mind, the process always felt like a miracle. I still find it enchanting that single-celled living organisms grow from the air after being trapped in a food source to create yeast.. Back in those days, when our firstborn, Jason, faced his first Science Fair, I used his academic challenge to up my game and make us both smarter. We mixed flour, water, and sugar and left it in a jar on the counter. When it made bubbles, we cheered, and his colored pencil sketches of that doughy mass earned him an A. When Leah came along, I pulled out the homemade yeast file, and she repeated that A garnering process. By the time it was Lauren's turn, we finally dared to use the homemade yeast to make a tiny loaf of bread. I had no idea I was in training for the surge of interest in sourdough during the pandemic. 

Against the unsettling backdrop of the Vietnam War, we baked. And during the pandemic's uncertainty, my friends and many others followed our nurturing instincts to create sustenance by cultivating sourdough. Keeping a starter alive became a daily ritual, a nod to resilience. With flour and water, we could perpetuate and celebrate life. 

It's hard to watch the news these days. The world seems filled with uncertainty and despair. I recently conducted an inquiry into the number of active conflicts taking place globally. I found that, in addition to the major atrocities taking place in the Middle East, Ukraine, Sudan, and the Congo, there are 59 or so additional wars taking place on our planet. That's daunting, and I think about the earnestness and naivety of our generation's hope to end war and how far we are from giving peace a chance.

But, I love how yeast suggests gestation, fermentation - a small, invisible element and if you provide warmth and nurturance it has the power to transform over time. For the first time after our move this summer, I made bread the other day. I'll always believe in the power of intention and how seemingly insignificant things ignite action that can lighten and enlarge the whole. And, believe me, it’s always worth the wait. 

Worth the wait