Dough or Die

“Yeast of Eden’s Bread for Life program has been a resounding success. The inaugural cohort of women—one from Eritrea, one from Canada, one from Mexico, and one from Germany, have learned the basics of baking bread from the bread shop’s founder and head baker, Olaya Solis. Born of tradition, the bread baked at Yeast of Eden follows the long rise, farm-to-table, every-loaf-by-hand philosophy, and those are exactly the principles Ms. Solis has taught to her first set of Bread for Life students.

“As part of our new show, entitled America’s Best Bakeries, I had the pleasure of meeting the Bread for Life cohorts and seeing firsthand the impact this program and this establishment has and will continue to have on their lives.”

As Tae stopped filming, the women in the bread shop’s kitchen applauded. Mack had asked to come back to film. He wanted to feature additional footage on the cable station’s online platform. “Additional content for our viewers,” he said.

Claire was up. She was the quietest of the four women, and it showed. She looked down at her countertop rather than up at her audience—us—but once she got going, she seemed to forget that Tae was filming at all.

“Bannock,” she said in her soft voice, “was called the bread of First Nations. Meaning the Squamish and Lil’wat Nations. There is no yeast in it. Only baking powder.”

“It was originally made with cornmeal and flour that was made from ground-up turnip bulbs, then cooked like Esmé’s Mexican bread over an open fire or in a pit.”

Claire nodded. “The Scottish made it, but with oats, and it was more like scones. When the Europeans introduced flour to our continent, bannock got better, but not by much. Nobody actually wanted it. But now? It has become . . . erm . . . glamorized,” Claire said, warming up to her topic. “In Canada now, you can find it in farm-to-table bistros and bakeries. It’s gotten fancy.”

She took us through the making of the bread, warning us not to overwork the dough. “It must be light. Airy. It is different than the yeast breads we’ve made.” We formed our lumpy rounds of dough and pushed our trays into Olaya’s commercial ovens.

“You have all done it,” Olaya said. Tae was still filming as Maggie came into the kitchen. She ushered in Meg, Kevin in tow. I waved at them all. Maggie grinned . . . at Tae.

Meg’s smile was tempered by the reality of what her mother had done, but she had her son back, and that was amazing. I felt for her, but at the same time, I was thrilled that she’d been reunited with Kevin.

“You are incredible women,” Olaya continued, her gaze taking in Meg. She gave her a nod, including her in the collective group. “Whatever you do from here on out, share your love of baking, of bread, and give of yourself to empower others.”