Growing up there is one smell that I remember most about our home. It is fresh baked bread. It's not that my mom made bread every week or all the time, but it was just such a memorable time each time it was made. My mom would work away in the kitchen making the bread and the smell would soon permeate the house. I loved that smell! Then it was watching the golden brown bread come out of the oven and set on the cutting board. Then it was agony waiting for the bread to cool enough for us to cut it and start eating it. Because you know there is nothing better that warm, fresh bread, melting with butter. I think we always had at least one loaf gone within an hour of her baking. Luckily she always made at least 4 loaves. Even now when I make bread I can't wait to have that hot, fresh slice of bread with butter.
1 year ago