“Lil touched my arm to get my attention. “Now that the oats and honey mix is cool we can add it to our dough mixture and knead it.” I shook the maple daydreams away and tipped the contents of the bowl she passed me into our dough mix. Lil said, “Time to get your hands dirty.” We broke the mixture into two and kneaded it. We were making honey, oatmeal bread rolls for the breakfast crowd. The town was lucky to have the café, everything baked from scratch, the menu endlessly rotating. “So what happ...ens next?” I grabbed a pad and pencil. I had started taking notes of the recipes we cooked together. Lil kneaded like an expert. Her dough was already together and smooth, whereas mine was still a globby mess. “We let it rest for an hour in a warm spot and the dough will rise and double.” I tried to copy Lil, the way she rolled the dough into itself with her nimble fingers. I looked almost like a surgeon with my blue latex gloves on. My hands were still a blistered, calloused mess after farmwork.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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