"Seymour..."

In 1993 a customer of mine gave me a loaf of home made bread. it was the best bread I ever tasted. I raved about it to her, and she gave me a cup of her bread starter. You can see the starter here in this blue striped crock. I have had the starter all the years since. It has moved with me multiple times, once across country. I have made countless loaves of bread with it. I lost touch with the woman who gifted me with the starter and recipe, but I think of her each time I knead dough. The loaves I make are often gifted to friends, neighbors, graduates, people recovering from illness or welcoming a new baby or grieving a life lost.

I call the starter "Seymour." The crock it lives in once belonged to my sweet mother in law. It is very old, and perhaps belonged to her mother before her.

Once a week I feed Seymour... it is a living organism in my refrigerator. When I want to bake I add it to sugar, salt, flour, water and oil. And it rises up, fragrant and full of promise. Then I punch it down, place it on my beautiful wooden bread block and knead it and shape it into loaves. Communion loaves for church, gift loaves for friends and neighbors, loaves for toast and breakfast. Recently I have learned to make a sweet breakfast confection called "Schnecken," a cinnamon and pecan laden taste sensation. I alter my bread recipe from time to time... adding more wheat to the white flour, adding oat flour, cornmeal... whatever strikes my fancy. The end result is always a treat; warm from the oven, sweet and fragrant. There is something impossibly homey and comforting about fresh made bread.

Seymour was a gift that has given and given and given.