Coming Home

It is Saturday night, and I am happy to be home baking. I'm trying a yeast dough, which never quite works for me the way it is supposed to, but is never all that bad, either.  I don't know enough to say which part I'm getting wrong. The yeast is supposed to be room temperature and the water lukewarm, so it's possible I'm usually not letting my yeast warm up enough after taking it out of the fridge, but often the problem is just that the yeast is old. Anyway, I will tell you how it turns out.

Being in the kitchen often feels to me like returning to or reconnecting with myself, and I definitely was not myself today. A co-worker had encouraged me to come to an event with the Society for Creative Anachronism, and I thought it would be a cool thing to try. She lent me an outfit of medieval clothing, which was fun. It was all linen, and involved a lace-up front and an apron. Luckily it wasn't hot out today, as there were a lot of layers!

We'll pretend I'm incognito in the scarf and safety goggles, since this is supposed to be an anonymous blog.

There were a few things that surprised me. One is that it did not feel like people were reenacting the Middle Ages. It was more like modern people enjoying learning about the Middle Ages. Despite the period-appropriate names (which were mostly things like Elizabeth, Alison, and Michael anyway) and clothing, nobody walked around saying G'day or pretended they didn't know what a phone was or anything like that. There were plastic buckets, blow torches, Tupperware and many other modern tools. It felt more like a high school fair where people could demonstrate what they'd learned.

The second surprise was just how mellow the event was. I don't know what I expected: more of a crowd, maybe, or more jousting and ceremony. It felt more like people who liked weaving were sitting with their friends and weaving, and people who enjoyed glass beading were sitting with their friends making glass beads. I think it's the sort of thing I'd find fun if I were friends with the people or were more serious about any of the activities. But nobody seemed to be having the kind of conversations you have with close friends. It felt very quiet, except for the people who were explaining their crafts to me.

I got to learn about and experience many interesting crafts, though. I spun a small ball of yarn, made a glass bead, and poured a plaster mold that could be used to make ceramic plates. I got to watch weaving, jam-making, and calligraphy. I held a (dull) sword for about a minute.

But there's a lot up in the air in my life right now, and it wasn't quite the right time for me to spend the day around people I didn't fit in with, not fully understanding the etiquette of the group, doing a lot of tasks that I don't know how to do and wasn't very good at. The day just felt like more uncertainty, I guess.

It's hard to say why baking would help with this unmoored feeling, especially since I'm pretty sure this yeast dough is not going to turn out right. But it doesn't matter so much. I feel connected to something very basic - the flour, the big leaves of chard, all these ingredients come from the earth. And after the dough rises (or rises as much as it's going to) I will be able to immerse myself in the dish I'm preparing - the act of rolling out the dough, the smell of food in the oven, the thought processes of judging whether my dough is too wet and whether I've chopped enough onion. The task focuses a lot of my senses and also anchors me physically in my small kitchen, one of my favorite places in my home (or in any home). I am somewhere I know I belong.

 The dough rose, but not as much as it was supposed to. But it still made enough for 24 burekas.

They aren't the most photogenic food, but they taste good.

They are filled with chard, onions, walnuts, tahini, and tomato paste.