Breads and Baked Goods

Freshly baked bread is one of my favorite smells. I love to go to the bakery, even if I don’t need to buy anything. I simply walk around, blissfully staring at the big loaves coated with lots of flour. I listen to the sound of the crust, when the ladies behind the counter give customers their favorite bread, and I imagine its crunchiness and flavor. Nothing comforts me like a slice of freshly baked sourdough bread, lavishly buttered. That’s the taste of my home.

So when I moved out of my childhood home to study at the University of Warsaw, I missed the bread, or rather the warmth and harmony that is associated with it. In the first few months, I felt emptiness, longing, and loneliness. Of course, in Warsaw, you can buy bread anywhere, but the loaves didn’t have the taste that I remembered from home. And at that time, I wasn’t able to bake it myself. The kitchen in my new apartment was very small and the oven didn’t work properly. Then, after some time, in one of the bakeries at the other end of the city, I discovered the perfect loaf. I went back to this bakery every Monday evening, bringing home a loaf of whole wheat sourdough bread. I would slice it, leaving bread crumbs all over the kitchen counter, and then eat it with lots of butter. I started to feel the familiar tastes of home that I missed so much.