I didn’t make our traditional lamb and roasted potatoes this year for our Easter dinner. There was just the two of us and I couldn’t justify so much food. Don’t get me wrong. I made a great dinner. We ate very well here on the Cut Off, but, lamb was rather expensive this year and you can’t really make just a little bit of a leg of lamb. I just couldn’t let the day pass without something Greek. I had picked up some yeast earlier in the week with hopes of rising to the occasion. Since we were planning a low-key day and I had plenty of time, Greek Easter bread was on the menu.
Right after church, out came the bowls and measuring cups, the flour and sugar and eggs and the butter and sesame seeds. Tom came up from the bowels of the
basement with my Yia Yia’s big, round bread pan and our quiet afternoon was soon whirring and stirring and kneading about with a cloud of flour dust as proof that bread making was at hand. Before long, the dough rose to perfection to the rim of the buttered and covered bowl. I punched it down and turned it around with the satisfaction that comes with making bread, then I filled the pan and covered the dough for one more rising. When well risen on this our holy day, I painted the dough ever-so-gently with an egg wash and sprinkled it liberally with sesame seeds. How I wished I had dyed the traditional red eggs of Greek Easter to place one in the center.
Once in the oven, this bread reached biblical proportions. It grew and grew, inside and outside and over the sides of the pan. Our afternoon was filled with yeasty scents emanating from the oven and our taste buds groaned in anticipation of freshly made bread with our Easter dinner. We could hardly wait for it to finish baking. I will tell you that this loaf’s 
resurrection was so full of purpose that it wrapped itself around the rim of the pan and covered it like an Easter bonnet. It was no small accomplishment to free it from the pan, in one piece, where it sat on a rack to cool.
It was still slightly warm and soft when I sliced it for dinner; its heavenly scent arising to greet me as I placed slices gently into the bread basket. I no longer remember what else we ate; only the delectable Greek Easter bread!
Mmmmmm . . .this experiment worked well, Pavlov, my mouth is watering (and I ALREADY had been craving Greek food before this post).
Christos aneste.
Haha! It was very, very good, Katy. My best yet. Now, close your jaw and stop drooling.
Alithos anesti.
Now I just want to run off and bake bread. It is so cathartic, isn’t it, because one simply cannot hurry bread. One must wait for its time. The smells are out of this world, too. Thank you Penny: a really wonderful reminder of what cooking should be all about.
It is cathartic, Kate, all that kneading and waiting and then the whoosh that comes when first punching it down. Great for working out aggression. It also teaches patience, of which I in constant practice. So kind of you to say and you are welcome.
Oh my mouth is watering! My Mum always made her bread and oh the smells.. and Mo made our bread in a bread maker and we would wake to the delicious aroma. Your Greek bread is wonderful and a truly wonderful resurrection celebration. Happy Easter Penny and Tom.
Those aromas bring us right back to mum and home, don’t they Joan. We used a bread maker for awhile and those scents while waking up were wonderful. Really such a simple pleasure that made a meal a celebration. Thank you, Joan.
Oh my…I could smell the sweet, yeasty fragrance right here int he cottage.
I pray that you enjoyed your delicious loaf immensely
Be blessed in His love,
maria
We are enjoying it still, Maria. It makes the best toast and I gave away a few big chunks as well. I wish I could share some with all of you.
Oh, Penny, it looks so good. I can almost smell it baking from here. I’m sure Tom the nest builder appreciated it.
It was – still is as it will be toast for breakfast again. After all that nest building, Tom greatly appreciated it, and didn’t even chide me for not sharing my pistachio nuts! tee hee
Oh yum, yum! I could smell your biblical bread all the way from the US to NZ. Breadmaking is such a sensuous, satisfying activity.
What a great way to describe breadmaking, Juliet. It is, indeed, and the aromas and tastes are so universal, aren’t they?
Now I know why I don’t bake- its the patience thing- I must not have it. I do have a bread machine and have used it a few times using real ingredients, not the box stuff. They don’t look as nice as yours, but smells good. Yours makes me want to tear off a big chunk of crust and slather on some butter-heaven on earth…
Bread making certainly takes patience, Sharon. Mix, knead, rise, punch, rise . . . like a boxing match and, unlike cooking, you do need to follow exact measurements. Ah, but you are such a great cook, why worry, especially when you can use a bread machine? I wish I could give you a chunk, but, we have pretty much finished it off. All that’s left is enough for croutons.
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