In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Singin’ in the Rain.”
I love to bake and my stomach size gives great testimony to this. There is something very cathartic and earthy about running your fingers through and kneading a concoction of flour and yeast, or licking the remnants off a sugary and chocolaty bowl.
Outside, our kitchen window is surrounded by verdant lush native bush and watching the rain pour onto the plants forming beautiful big droplets which ultimately race down the leaves and stems is magical.
Hearing the rain on the steel roof is relaxing in itself, and the dark clouds overhead dull our natural airy and light kitchen and living room into shades and hues of subtlety and calm.
Watching the rain clouds drift whimsically across the bay, sheering, dancing, and dropping their nourishing payloads against the backdrop of the mountains is magical.
Of course, there is the anticipation during the proving process, will my dough rise? Will it rise too much?
Then, eventually, comes the taste,my greedy fingers usually burning on the straight-out-of-the-oven prize. Too eager to wait, too impatient to care, the roof of my mouth wincing in pain.
‘Too ho – too ho – too hot!’
But none-the less the result is succulence personified, crusty and rich; always sublime.
But best of all by far, is spending time with my daughter Maddie, who also loves to bake. Spending time and teaching her the basics of good baking, good conversation and good living is my favourite wet day activity.
Kia ora Roly