Domestic Goddess 101

As I sit looking out over a sea of neatly stacked, drying dishes I feel a great sense of accomplishment. The dishwasher has just run it's course, scrubbing all the small things, and I've carefully washed all of the over-sized and non-stick bakeware that just isn't allowed in the dishwasher. I take great pride in my now sparkling kitchen; not only in the order before me, but also in the bread baked from scratch that happens to be the cause of most of the mess.

Like so many Domestic Goddesses before me, I have mastered the craft of perfectly kneaded bread. I'd love to be able to thank my grandmother for this gift, as she was renowned for her skill, but she passed away before I was old enough to learn. My older sisters and cousins tell great stories of summers spent on my grand parent's ranch. Working hours in the kitchen with grandma, cooking for all the men. Of course to them, it was on par with slave labor, as running through the fields outside seemed a much better use of their time. By the time I was born, the ranch had been sold, and there were no men left to cook for. Grandma sat in her chair, crocheting afghans, and eating cocktail peanuts.

I got my lessons from grandma the round about way. She had thought my mother, shortly after my parents were married, and mama taught me. I used to love standing on a chair in the kitchen, watching as mama's skilled hands worked dough for rolls and pastries. I loved the way the dough felt. The yeast working made it almost feel alive. You knew it was done when you stuck your finger in and it sprang back. There was no exact science to it, it just felt right.

I fell in love with making dough. So much stress can be worked out in one good kneading session. I took the lessons mom gave and added my own feel to it. After a while, mom gave up making dough for pizza altogether. I was ecstatic when she said it was because mine turned out better. Really I think it was because she was tired of fighting me for the kitchen when bread was involved. I took over baking cinnamon rolls, as well. Cinnamon rolls are sacred in my family. We all use grandma's recipe which has a brown sugar glaze, rather than cream cheese icing. I've never been more proud than the day my oldest sister said my cinnamon rolls were just like grandma's. So even though I didn't get to spend my days in her kitchen, I like to think that she now spends a few in mine. Helping make my treats turn out just like hers.