The Lost Art

       I still remember that day my Oma smiled at me, winked and said, "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach." We had just finished making lunch for my Opa and my Dad. It was our Wednesday tradition. I was homeschooled eighth grade and this allowed me the chance to take 'cooking lessons' from my Oma.

     I am not sure if she really understood what she was getting into when she agreed to take me on as her student. She soon found out when we tried to make homemade bread. In my German heritage, the test of a good woman is her bread. My dad's cousin once told me that I had to learn to slice bread straight and thin before I was ready for marriage.

   Anywho, the bread making experiment turned into a flour explosion and I think my Oma is still finding flour in the nooks and crannies of her kitchen to this day. Oh Heavens, it was messy. But the smell of that bread and the memory of laughing together with my Oma as we surveyed the catastrophe we had created were totally worth it (then again, it wasn't my kitchen that was dusted with flour).

    Bread wasn't our only project. We made dompf noodles, pickles, chili, stew, sweet rice, cooked cheese and so much more. And the best part of the meal was the process. It was learning how to turn a few simple ingredients into a hearty meal. It was the fun of cooking with my Oma, of sitting down to eat with my family and seeing their satisfaction. I still find a huge amount of joy in putting food on the table.

     Today was my boss's birthday. I agreed to bring a cake and when Hank and I went to the store last night, I caved. I love baking so much, but it was late and I couldn't imagine being up for hours slaving over a homemade creation.

 So I bought a box mix.

And I made tres leches cake from a box and it turned out Ok.

Apparently this is the age of buying instead of making. I get that. It is hard to find time to bake and besides, the bakery makes it better, or the grocery store sells it just as fresh, right? right???

My attempt at German cheese dumplings. I used the dumpling technique my colleages taught me in China :)

    Well, you would have thought I labored hours over this cake by the way my coworkers praised my cake. They all seemed genuinly surprised that I would make a cake. I admitted it was from a box but this didn't lessen their amazement.

    On one hand, it is rather nice to be praised. On the other, I am sad for what we are losing. If we always let someone else grow our food, bake our bread, hunt our meat- won't we become pretty needy people. We will need other people to do all these things for us and we ourselves will miss out on the beauty of the process.  On the pride that comes from getting  your hands dirty and surviving flour mushroom clouds. On failing at certain recipes to learn what works. On the the smell, oh the smell! of baking bread.

To me, it is worth every second I could spend doing something more "productive."