[‘The Basket of Bread’ (1914), Raoul Dufy] I may just have a thing about bread. I consume it, and it consumes me. Barely a day goes by without eating some sort of bread. I make my own, I buy it, and it’s one of the best entrées into exploring different places and food cultures. ‘Best bakery in xxx’ is probably one of my top five Google searches.
I love your posts, Jane, and this one is an absolute gem. It evoked wonderful memories and made me hungry for a big slab of homemade bread and maybe a currant scones. Your accompanying images are perfect too.
Thank you Jane for your generous posts and lovely insights. I always learn something beautiful from you and look forward to reading your post as an antidote to the disturbing daily news. Many thanks
Another splendid post. And a note in the diary for that exhibition. The best slice of bread I ever ate was handed to me by my rather formidable and childless aunt. It was thick squishy white bread spread with blackberry jelly and clotted cream. She had a thatched cottage and two Siamese cats and it is a seminal childhood memory just now revived by your post.
Thank you so much! You brought me back to my grand-parent’s house, and the so good memories of a warm piece of bread, fresh butter melting on the top and the smile of my grandma delighted by our happiness.
I can now slice my bread elegantly as I’ve just invested in a marvellous Japanese bread knife from Kitchen Provisions online. They have fab stuff. My bread knife was £38 and worth every penny. I remember my primary teacher also buttered the bread then cut it…I’ve wanted to do that for half a century. At home we only ever had Sunblest.
My sister and I used to spend time with a farming family in the Staffordshire Moorlands the 1970s.
The lady of the house would come in from milking, her nylon polo neck jumper still covered with straw/Lord know what else, and energetically saw (towards her chest) slices of bread off a large white loaf. She used a much sharpened steel knife for the purpose.
My sister and I used to laugh so much about the difference in hygiene standards between that house and ours. But we were never ill from eating there.
Thank you for opening my eyes to the paintings of Isobel Codrington. Why have I never heard of her? Bread features in several of her paintings. I particularly love her landscapes and her etchings of trees which are exquisite.
Thank you for a lovely post! I added a white loaf of bread to my baking rotation during the pandemic, and now it is a weekly regular. We haven’t had a loaf of store-bought bread in a long while. I also bake ciabatta loaves which are stored in the freezer for easy access. However, the baguette pans are waiting on the shelf waiting for me to gather the courage to try them out.
Oh what a lovely post! Warm and comforting like the subject itself. One of my favourite artists in Dufy to open, and the Picasso photo always makes me smile; I have it in a montage of b/w photos at home. My Nana always cut bread for afternoon tea like that, buttering it first, then into the thinnest dainty slices. My attempts were always doorstops! Thankyou for the nostalgia
Lovely piece, Jane. Yesterday I thanked my neighbour for teaching me how to prune my fruit trees with a still warm loaf of my bread and a jar of Staud's Austrian apricot conserve.
As a child we moved house, a lot! Pretty much the first thing we discovered was what the local bread was called… baps, bread cakes, bread buns even tea cakes (bread, no currants). Image my joy when I moved to my current home and discovered the local delicacy was called a scuffler! They are triangular and what a marvellous name. We came 20 miles down the road from Sheffield to just outside Doncaster. Sheffield has never heard of scufflers!
Trying to remember which book has the description of someone cutting bread against their body, with alternate thin slices for the grown-ups and thick slices for the children. Can anyone help? I agree about not writing off Chorleywood - and more particularly the Scottish white pan loaf in its tartan waxed wrapper to this day https://macdonaldbutchers.co.uk/product/mothers-pride-loaf/ . And so much a part of Scottish life that it has its own expression - to be pan loaf is to be affected or pretentious, mostly in relation to putting on a posh voice.
I love your posts, Jane, and this one is an absolute gem. It evoked wonderful memories and made me hungry for a big slab of homemade bread and maybe a currant scones. Your accompanying images are perfect too.
Thank you Jane for your generous posts and lovely insights. I always learn something beautiful from you and look forward to reading your post as an antidote to the disturbing daily news. Many thanks
Another splendid post. And a note in the diary for that exhibition. The best slice of bread I ever ate was handed to me by my rather formidable and childless aunt. It was thick squishy white bread spread with blackberry jelly and clotted cream. She had a thatched cottage and two Siamese cats and it is a seminal childhood memory just now revived by your post.
Thank you for another lovely post. It reminded me that my Nana always buttered the loaf and the sliced it towards her! Happy days.
Thank you so much! You brought me back to my grand-parent’s house, and the so good memories of a warm piece of bread, fresh butter melting on the top and the smile of my grandma delighted by our happiness.
I can now slice my bread elegantly as I’ve just invested in a marvellous Japanese bread knife from Kitchen Provisions online. They have fab stuff. My bread knife was £38 and worth every penny. I remember my primary teacher also buttered the bread then cut it…I’ve wanted to do that for half a century. At home we only ever had Sunblest.
My sister and I used to spend time with a farming family in the Staffordshire Moorlands the 1970s.
The lady of the house would come in from milking, her nylon polo neck jumper still covered with straw/Lord know what else, and energetically saw (towards her chest) slices of bread off a large white loaf. She used a much sharpened steel knife for the purpose.
My sister and I used to laugh so much about the difference in hygiene standards between that house and ours. But we were never ill from eating there.
Thank you for opening my eyes to the paintings of Isobel Codrington. Why have I never heard of her? Bread features in several of her paintings. I particularly love her landscapes and her etchings of trees which are exquisite.
Picasso's mischievous bread-play reminds me of Charlie Chaplin's brilliant bit, the "bread dance" in The Gold Rush: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sgPArQJUsCY
Thank you for a lovely post! I added a white loaf of bread to my baking rotation during the pandemic, and now it is a weekly regular. We haven’t had a loaf of store-bought bread in a long while. I also bake ciabatta loaves which are stored in the freezer for easy access. However, the baguette pans are waiting on the shelf waiting for me to gather the courage to try them out.
Great post again today. I have a postcard of Picasso with the bread fingers above my desk and it makes me smile each day.
Happy Sunday too, off to have a chunk of bread with fresh jam with my elevenses coffee!
Oh what a lovely post! Warm and comforting like the subject itself. One of my favourite artists in Dufy to open, and the Picasso photo always makes me smile; I have it in a montage of b/w photos at home. My Nana always cut bread for afternoon tea like that, buttering it first, then into the thinnest dainty slices. My attempts were always doorstops! Thankyou for the nostalgia
Lovely piece, Jane. Yesterday I thanked my neighbour for teaching me how to prune my fruit trees with a still warm loaf of my bread and a jar of Staud's Austrian apricot conserve.
As a child we moved house, a lot! Pretty much the first thing we discovered was what the local bread was called… baps, bread cakes, bread buns even tea cakes (bread, no currants). Image my joy when I moved to my current home and discovered the local delicacy was called a scuffler! They are triangular and what a marvellous name. We came 20 miles down the road from Sheffield to just outside Doncaster. Sheffield has never heard of scufflers!
Trying to remember which book has the description of someone cutting bread against their body, with alternate thin slices for the grown-ups and thick slices for the children. Can anyone help? I agree about not writing off Chorleywood - and more particularly the Scottish white pan loaf in its tartan waxed wrapper to this day https://macdonaldbutchers.co.uk/product/mothers-pride-loaf/ . And so much a part of Scottish life that it has its own expression - to be pan loaf is to be affected or pretentious, mostly in relation to putting on a posh voice.