An abundance of breads.

I remember Saturday mornings growing up, when my grandmother, with whom we lived, made bread. I remember how my grandmother rubbed butter on the crusts as the hot bread just came from the oven. I remember the aroma. I remember the thick slices she cut for each of us kids, drizzling olive oil across the steaming slice, and sprinkling black pepper all around. How we loved that Saturday morning treat, and of course the thick slices of fresh pizza we would have for lunch.
I started to make bread in ernest when we lived in South Dakota, and realized almost immediately that it was truly a part of who I was. One of the first bread books I got was James Clayton's Complete Book of Breads. It was thick and detailed. I wanted to make every loaf in that book, and actually came pretty close to doing just that. It was while on that journey I began, at Easter, to make Easter Breads from around the world. It was a wonderful way to celebrate with friends; breads, cheese, wine and good conversation. I have done this most years since though there have been a few years where I've made less rather than more. However, this year I made more, it was fun, filled with laughter and camaraderie.