The yeast had to be put in the "just-right" temperature of water and left alone to dissolve and rise. The mixing had to be done so that all the flour would be mixed in, not too sticky, not too firm. It took a lot of effort to get it mixed in and ready to knead. Then the work began. The kneading would take about 15 minutes to get the correct texture. I would flour the counter and pour the dough out on it. Mine would always stick to my fingers, making the biggest mess. Mom's would always be just right. I thought I would never get it right. I would knead the dough until I thought it was good enough and she would pinch it and tell me "Just a little more and you've got it!" We would spread shortening in her largest tupperware bowl and put the bread in, pick it up and turn it over and then put a cloth on it to raise. We would always clean up our other pans and dishes during this time, and get the pans out and greased so that they would be ready. 
Punching the dough down was my favorite part. It would push the air out and you could smell how good it was going to taste. I would roll it over again in the pan and cover it again. When it was over the top of the bowl, we would take it out and form the dough into loaves.
I had the most lopsided loaves you would ever see, but to her they were perfect! If we decided to make rolls with the dough, she would let me form them in any shape that I wanted. We had the most artistic rolls you ever saw! Hers would be shaped, raised and baked and I would still be making mine in all different shapes and sizes. She never told me to hurry or anything, she just let me do my thing! When we would serve them mine were always the first and got the most compliments, even though I know hers were tons better! She would make such a fuss that I couldn't wait until it was time to do them again. It took many sessions with her to get my dough right and the loaves formed well. I forgot to add salt once, and I still check to make sure it is added to this day! My mom formed me by being patient, kind and loving and passing on her talent to me. She let me learn at my pace, never growing angry when it didn't work out. I smell the bread in my kitchen today and I am filled with love and respect for her. She was a great teacher and a wonderful cook. She taught me so much about what I would need when I got married. I have been baking bread for over 36 years. I take it to her and she has me cut it in slices and put it in the freezer to serve to only her "best" friends. She is still making me feel like I am the best at what I do. She will probably always treat me the same. I hope she knows that she made a huge difference in my life by helping and teaching me. She has shown me that there is so much in life that is like baking bread. We need to have experiences added in to form our personalities. We need to be stirred up a little so that we can know what we want in life. We need to rise to heights that we set for ourselves and we need to go through the fire of adversity to be strong. All this from a "Bread Day". It is a tradition that I have handed down to my daughter-in-law Shauntae. She wanted to learn because Jimmy likes homeade bread. Now, that is love! I hope that someday my children and grandchildren will be doing something and fondly think to themselves... "I'm glad mom (or grandma) taught me this!
Punching the dough down was my favorite part. It would push the air out and you could smell how good it was going to taste. I would roll it over again in the pan and cover it again. When it was over the top of the bowl, we would take it out and form the dough into loaves.
I had the most lopsided loaves you would ever see, but to her they were perfect! If we decided to make rolls with the dough, she would let me form them in any shape that I wanted. We had the most artistic rolls you ever saw! Hers would be shaped, raised and baked and I would still be making mine in all different shapes and sizes. She never told me to hurry or anything, she just let me do my thing! When we would serve them mine were always the first and got the most compliments, even though I know hers were tons better! She would make such a fuss that I couldn't wait until it was time to do them again. It took many sessions with her to get my dough right and the loaves formed well. I forgot to add salt once, and I still check to make sure it is added to this day! My mom formed me by being patient, kind and loving and passing on her talent to me. She let me learn at my pace, never growing angry when it didn't work out. I smell the bread in my kitchen today and I am filled with love and respect for her. She was a great teacher and a wonderful cook. She taught me so much about what I would need when I got married. I have been baking bread for over 36 years. I take it to her and she has me cut it in slices and put it in the freezer to serve to only her "best" friends. She is still making me feel like I am the best at what I do. She will probably always treat me the same. I hope she knows that she made a huge difference in my life by helping and teaching me. She has shown me that there is so much in life that is like baking bread. We need to have experiences added in to form our personalities. We need to be stirred up a little so that we can know what we want in life. We need to rise to heights that we set for ourselves and we need to go through the fire of adversity to be strong. All this from a "Bread Day". It is a tradition that I have handed down to my daughter-in-law Shauntae. She wanted to learn because Jimmy likes homeade bread. Now, that is love! I hope that someday my children and grandchildren will be doing something and fondly think to themselves... "I'm glad mom (or grandma) taught me this!
