Need Bread to Live

During language class, Jeff and I try to find mnemonic devises to help us remember the Cebuano vocabulary that we are learning. Jeff came up with a really clever one for the Cebuano word for rice. The word is kanon. Now, if you are speaking Biblical Greek, kanon doesn't mean rice. It means "a rule." So, how does knowing the definition in Greek help and what is the mnemonic device? In Filipino culture, it is basically a rule that you have to have kanon, or rice, at every meal. Rice is so essential that here in the Philippines it is eaten at every meal, without fail.

And now you get to learn a little about me. Rice is to the Filipino culture, what bread is to me. Bread is essential. What's a meal without bread? I have memories revolving entirely around bread. I've been known to dream about bread. I may or may not have cried tears of joy and awe when I first experienced Central Market, simply because of the freshly baked breads. It's not just eating bread that I love. I love baking bread. I love smelling it while it bakes. I love cutting into it too early, while it is still supposed to be cooling and seeing the steam burst forth the moment the knife breaks through the crust. I love schmearing it with butter and drizzling it with honey. I could go on, but I'll spare you from feeling like you are intruding on a private moment.

Anyways, you can imagine my sinking heart when I walked into our house here in the Philippines for the first time, and realized we have no oven. No oven, no baking. No baking, no bread...at least not the type of bread that I know and love. Forget culture shock! Life without bread is like life without smiles. And life where the only option is a sweet, slightly rubbery bread impostor is like life with only fake smiles. Okay, okay...maybe I am over-exaggerating. Lots of people in the States live without bread and (somehow) they are doing just fine. But when your life is being shaken about and then turned upside down like a cup of Yahtzee dice, sometimes having that one familiar comfort from home is the difference between a good and bad transition. And for me, it seems, bread has fallen into the category of familiar comforts that I am having a hard time living without.

But no longer! After 3 months, thanks to sweet friends who sent us some money with specific instructions on what to spend it on, we finally have an oven. Granted, it is a glorified toaster over, but it is an oven all the same. So I whipped up a sourdough starter and made my first two loaves of bread here in the Philippines. I cut into it too early, while it was supposed to be cooling and watched the steam escape as the knife broke through the crust. The girls and I had toast and jam for breakfast, peanut butter sandwiches on homemade bread for lunch, and each had a slice of bread with our dinner that day. (Jeff would have joined in, but he was out of town.) It was a very welcome day full of familiar foods and everyone went to bed feeling thankful.