No one else knows, as they eat the bread,
what’s been slipped into it,
how in with the flour, the yeast, the salt,
a stubborn devotion has slipped in.
It hides in an inner cupboard. Even the baker
doesn’t have the key. But when
she would rather not be loving—
because she is tired, because
she feels wronged, because she’s distracted—
that’s when the cupboard opens itself
and mixes into her the kind of devotion
that cannot be manufactured, the kind
of devotion that rises up not out of duty
but from some mysterious, infinite source
that guides her hands as they knead
the soft dough. It infuses her with a longing
to be big-hearted, a longing to love, even when love
feels unreasonable. She can smell it
as it fills the whole house with its generous
scent. Even now, as they sit and eat the bread,
it astonishes her, how ferocious
this drive to nourish, to love.
They pass the butter, the jam. She smiles
as they eat it together, slice after slice.
You so perfectly capture what I couldn’t express till I read “Like Water For Chocolate.” Only then did I realize what the cook, the baker (and now, I realize, the gardener) puts into her food. That book changed my relationship to food. I bless the seeds I plant, hold many of them in my mouth as I prepare their place in the soil, as my way of introducing them to the family they will nurture. I pay attention to my mood as I chop, saute, mix. To sing, to dance, to feel joy while cooking (or gardening or starting seeds or surely even while shopping) is essential. I thank you and Laura Esquivel for this realization. I’m still learning so much about this.
Hi Laura, thank you. I remember that movie well, and I also know this from the gardener’s view … and there is something in it that is so far beyond me–some grace I could never lay claim to… some energy much more generous than I that is doing the blessing! Much of the time, I am aware of my own good intentions. sometimes, like the last few days, I am well aware that my own fussiness gets shoved out of the way by something nourishing, patient, good. love to you in this season of planting, xoxo
Lovely. Just lovely.
thank you … oh thank goodness for grace taking over!
Beautiful and true. I used to bake bread years ago but with mixed results. Now, because the physical effort involved is beyond me due to having chronic illness, my husband does it and produces perfectly edible loaves! It’s a labour of love as it nourishes us body and soul. The fragrance alone seems to fill the house. And its especially good when eaten with his home-made soup as well… 😉💜
here’s to fine husbands, and to the scent of bread–I agree, just the scent is such a gift.