Fresh Baked Love

There was always something baking in Grandma's kitchen. It didn't matter that there was a giant chest freezer in the garage entirely dedicated to frozen cookies, apple dumplings, butterscotch brownies, and, most of all, bread. It would be full to the brim and still the smell of fresh baked cookies or bread would fill her home.

My childhood memories always included sneaking to the freezer after she told us to go to bed, stealing a tin of frozen cookies, and huddling together with my cousins in the basement, giggling incessantly. That was, until we heard the inevitable opening of the laundry chute from upstairs. That would shut us up quicker than lightning. “You kids go to sleep now!” Grandma had never been the indulgent kind. None of us ever felt spoiled as children. I had more chores when I visited her home each summer than I did at my own house. Maybe that's why I loved her cookies so much, it was a glimmer of the softer side of the woman I often misunderstood to be so stern. It wasn't until I was much older, and more like her than I ever anticipated, that I finally understood that baking was one of Grandma’s love languages. She often incorporated it into her other love language, creating a double lesson, teaching whether or not we wanted to learn.

One summer, after we’d picked the cherries, shelled the fresh peas from the garden, and hung the laundry out on the line, Grandma gathered five girls into her narrow galley kitchen. Each of us was assigned a batch of bread to bake under the watchful eye of our grandmother. As she instructed us on how to bloom the yeast and sift the flour, she interspersed another lesson of God, sharing with us her fervent belief in a benevolent Father in Heaven. She would demonstrate how to knead the dough and watch as we pounded our little fists into the sticky substance. As she sprinkled more flour over each of our hands, she quoted scriptures.

As we waited for the dough to rise, she had us wash the dishes we used, wipe down the counters, and return all the ingredients to their designated spot. She spoke of Christ and how he taught his disciples about charity. Caring for one another was the most important of all God’s commandments, she assured us, as we punched the dough down. Then she patiently taught us each to divide the dough, fold it into a small bundle and gently set it into the waiting pans. We covered them gently with tea towels and then she laid out lunch for us to enjoy while we waited. Before long, we turned on both wall ovens, filled both to the brim with perfectly risen loaves of bread and watched them turn golden brown as the kitchen filled with their intoxicating aroma. As we waited, she sang her favorite hymn, Love One Another.

As we turned the loaves from the pans, Grandma had us each select one loaf, ensuring they were the best looking loaves. We wrapped them and followed her out the door with our bundles of fresh baked love under one arm. We stopped by the home of five of Grandma’s carefully selected neighbors. None of us girls really knew any of them, but Grandma somehow knew each had a need for a little extra love that day. They greeted us with tears of gratitude as they took the loaves.

Many years later, as my family gathered in her home, preparing to say goodbye to her the next day, the doorbell rang, over and over and over. Neighbor after neighbor came in with a casserole, cookies, enchiladas, brownies, and, of course, fresh baked bread. Many shared the same sentiment, "When I had surgery…when mom died…when I had my babies…when we needed it most…your Grandma was the first person at our door, with a fresh baked loaf of bread.”

When no one was looking, just before the funeral, I snuck out to the garage and opened the freezer. Right up until the end, Grandma had kept her oven going, packing her freezer full of goodies, waiting for her Grandchildren to stop by and sneak a few nuggets of love. I pried open a tin and took out one final cookie. I gnawed on the frozen puck, savoring each morsel as tears rolled down my cheeks and I remembered the woman who had loved me too much to simply indulge my every whim.

The following Christmas, my mother gifted each of her siblings, my sister, and me with the most precious cookbook she created with Shutterfly. It was filled with all the recipes Grandma had collected in an old GE Log Book from 1957. The cookbook contained every treat we pilfered from the old chest freezer, but also photos of Grandma, her kitchen, and handwritten recipes. I crack open the book and turn to my favorite recipes from time to time.

Grandma’s Bread

12 Cups flour

1 TBSP Yeast (2 if you don’t live on top of a mountain)

1 handful of sugar (very precise)

1 handful of salt (so very precise)

½ cup + 4 cups warm water (comfortable bath temperature)

2 wooden spoons shortening (about a half a cup)

⅓ cup dry milk

Combine yeast and sugar in ½ cup warm water and let bloom for 10 minutes. Mix all ingredients together in large bowl until combined. Turn out on floured surface and knead until dough forms a nice, stiff ball. Cover and allow to rise until double. Punch down dough and divide into four. Spread dough into a rectangle, about the size of a sheet of paper. Fold bottom corners into center, making a triangle. Starting from the tip of the triangle, roll dough up and tuck the ends under. Place dough, seam side down, in greased loaf tin. Cover and allow to rise until double. Bake at 375 for 30 minutes. (Cooking time may vary based on the size of the loaf tin.) Brush tops with butter. Eat one loaf warm, take the rest to a neighbor in need of a little extra fresh baked love.

Grandma’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

24 Tablespoons (or 2 cups) white sugar (Grandma reduced this to 1.5 cups in later years)

24 Tablespoons (or 2 cups) brown sugar

2 cups shortening/margarine/or butter

4 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

5-6 cups of flour (Grandma added more, she liked extra stiff cookies)

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 bag chocolate chips

chopped nuts (Grandma didn’t specify the amount and I never put nuts in my cookies so my best guess would be about 1 cup)

Cream together shortening and sugars. Add eggs and mix thoroughly. Add vanilla. Sift together dry ingredients and slowly add to egg mixture. Stir in chocolate chips and nuts. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto a greased baking sheet. Bake at 375 for 10 minutes. Eat a few fresh from the oven. Pack remaining cookies in an old flour tin and store in the freezer so your grandchildren always know where to find a nugget of love to nibble on.

As I carefully measure and combine the ingredients, I hear Grandma’s melodic voice gently suggesting I double the recipe so I can share with a neighbor before reminding me how the dough should feel when it's been kneaded just right. I hum her favorite hymn to myself and thank the God she loved so much for all the time we had together.

She has been gone nine long years. It’s a cold February evening as I sit in my kitchen with my precious cookbook thinking of her legacy, yet my heart is as warm as a fresh baked loaf of bread. She loved me enough to teach me all the things that were most important to her. Tomorrow, she would have been 96. In her honor, I share her recipes along with her lessons of charity and fresh baked love.