Falling in Love with Bread < The Happy Monk Baking Company

I saw this image on the Twitter social media app a few weeks ago.

Yes, I admit I look on Twitter occasionally and sometimes find something worthwhile.

Such as this picture by the French painter Francine van Hove.1 I was drawn to the buttered toast and a dreamy woman spreading a beautiful berry jam over it. It’s almost dream-like in its stillness and sensuousness.

It was the luscious jam and toast that first caught my attention. But as I studied the image, I realized the woman’s face and her relationship to the bread told a story. The painting had a classical feel, like something by Rembrandt or Vermeer, coloured by gentle lighting, ivory skin tone, and the subtle colours of her cheekbone, lips and ear.

Telling a story

She’s unclothed, as far as we can tell. She focuses on the toast and jam, contrasting with her translucent skin. The fingers of her hands holding the spoon and toast are relaxed. The jam draws my attention. I can taste the rich sweetness.

I like the way the woman holds the bread up as she applies the jam as if looking into the eyes of a lover, taking the full measure of its being, its personality.

The painting is titled “Craquante,” meaning “crispy.” Flavour and texture. In the realm of the senses.

We eat a lot of bread in our house. On bread day, as the freshly baked loaves emerge from the oven and pile up on the kitchen counter, I love to sample a slice or two. It’s a brief respite from the business of the morning, packaging and organizing the bread for delivery.

Love at first taste

I love making the first slice into a loaf and then lifting it to my nose to take in its aroma. It’s still a little warm, and the crumb’s humidity carries the smell deeply into my nose. I like the bread’s yeastiness, the distinct smell of the grains I’ve used, and any other additions. Nuts and seeds, for example, impart quite a different aroma than a straight loaf of sourdough bread.

Most often, my first taste is a bite of the bread unadorned. No butter or jam in that initial experience. 2 Those first few bites are of the raw bread, the crust and the crumb alone.

I love searching for the loaf’s essence, built on the flavours of the ingredients: sourdough, flour, salt, sweetness and moistness.

It’s a beautiful moment, getting to know the bread in its most elemental state.

Bread day

I’m joined most bread mornings by my good friend, Davy Rippner, an indispensable partner who helps me stay focused on the details. He packages bread and holds the oven door open as I load loaves and pull them out. He helps keep track of the baking times and keeps the oven warm.

Davy’s first bread taste is usually a toasted slice with a schmear of butter. Jennifer enjoys her first mouthfuls toasted with butter and honey. There is also coffee and music and much conversation while the flavours and smells take shape in our senses.

The kitchen is dusty, and the counters are piled with bags, lists, and baskets. A cutting board and bread knife take up a lot of space, and crumbs are everywhere, with open jars of honey and jam and a big tub of butter.

And once we’ve sensed a personality or established a relationship with the bread, we might venture a few remarks: “Can you taste the molasses?” “Is the crumb a little dry?” “What would you serve this with?”

Taking the full measure of the bread

The questions are only half-answered, mostly. Time moves quickly on bread day, customers will soon call for their bread, and it’s time to return to work.

Tasting the bread — or taking its full measure — happens over time. I may not sense the molasses until the next day, for example, when the bread has cooled and dried a little. But we’ve opened a few doors and learned about the latest bread, this week’s “Baker’s Choice.”

I may soon prefer the bread toasted with butter. Peanut butter is a favourite condiment, sometimes a dollop of Seville Orange Marmalade. The Salish Sourdough sometimes likes to be fried with Extra Virgin Olive Oil. A tiny sprinkle of flaky Maldon salt. I dream of the great sandwiches it will make and the soup that will accompany it.

Taking the full measure of a loaf is a bit of a journey. Sometimes we need time to know it well. Some loaves may not be our best friends and we may withhold comments for fear of hurting their feelings. We respond to bread in the same way we do to people.

Time will tell

As bakers and consumers, we search for the ideal bread experience and probe each loaf’s strengths and weaknesses. And in the case of the woman in this image, “Craquante,” she’s mesmerized by the bread she holds, painting it with jam and butter. Dressing it in clothes she loves, the flavours she wants to taste.

How far will the relationship go? How long will it last?

Time will tell.

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Happy Monk Instagram Feed

Telling a story

Love at first taste

Bread day

Taking the full measure of the bread

Time will tell

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