'til We Eat Again-a teaser

May 4, 1994
Laguna Hills, CA

One day after school, a woman from church was teaching a group of us 9-10 year-old girls how to make white bread. I was so amazed that such simple ingredients like flour, water, oil, and salt could produce something so heavenly. It was messy and we were all coated in a layer of flour by the time we were done kneading, but I’ll never forget the smell of freshly bread. I mean, really, is there anything better in the world than fresh bread, right from the oven?
I’ll give you time to think about that.

Keep thinking.

Not coming up with anything, right?

That’s because fresh bread is the best thing in the entire world. Taking this into account, you might imagine my elation when I realized I now had the skills to make this on my own and to woo my family with it. I went home and immediately started on my second loaf of bread for the day.

My mom was gone for the afternoon, so this was the perfect time to showcase my new skills and surprise my mom with the lovely aroma right when she walked through the front door. I was so thoughtful!

I carefully measured all the ingredients, tested the water for the right temperature so I wouldn’t kill the yeast, kneaded the dough, let it rise, and before I knew it I had just baked a beautiful loaf of bread. Mom came home an hour later and wow, was she impressed.

She asked, “Where did you learn how to do this?”

“Sister Barrett taught me today!”
Mom tasted the bread.

“Mmmmm, this is so good! Show me what recipe you used.”

I pulled out the folded up recipe from earlier that day and showed mom. She mentioned that it was just like a recipe that she had used before, except that my recipe called for olive oil.

“We don’t have any olive oil. So, what did you use instead?” she asked.

“Yes, we do! It’s right over here in the fridge!” I exclaim, so proud of myself.

I launch over to the fridge and pull out a bottle of olive oil that I have noticed in the same spot of the door for years. I show my mom. She turns white. This was not exactly the reaction I had been anticipating. At the time, my dad was the Bishop of our congregation at church. and being a bearer of the Priesthood, had oil that had been consecrated for healing the sick. I had used this oil to make my bread—which is about the equivalent of if I had used Holy Water to make Crystal Light.

Oops.

Holy Bread, for sure.