Bread & Butter

My name is Katherine Turner, but you can call me Kate. I am 18 years old and a middling baker. I own a bakery with my friend Cecily Bond, but I call her Cece. Every day I wake up before dawn and walk to my bakery. This end-of-winter morning is just like the rest. The clouds are floating above the sky, drifting with the wind. The grass and trees are swaying from side to side, up and down. The sky is getting lighter as the sun starts to appear. I live five minutes away from my bakery which is very convenient for me. When I get to my bakery, I open the door and put on my apron and pull out a few candles, light them right away and place them eat different tables around the room. Cece isn’t there yet, just like every morning, but when she gets here, the room feels like  thousand more lights have appeared in the room, making everyone feel comfy and cozy. I start cleaning pots and pans that were left dirty the day before. After I’m done cleaning my pots and pans, I start mixing yeast and flour together, then I add water, and eggs to make wheat bread. When the dough is ready, I cover it with a bowl and leave it to rest on the counter. Then I start making another batch of wheat bread and let that rest just like the one before. When the first dough has risen all the way, I uncover it and start kneading the dough. Then I cut it in half and shape the two halves into circles. I make a slit in the middle of both dough circles and place them in the bread oven with my long handled, wooden paddle. I use my paddle to turn, and take out the bread from the bread oven so my hands don’t get too close to the fire and burn. After I’m done baking about a dozen big and small loaves of bread, I start making the filling for a savory pie with carrots, peas, spinach, and sausage.

I remember when my bakery first opened. The sky was surrounded with clouds, blocking the sun. The temperature was crisp, cold enough for a fire, maybe too cold to not have one. I’m bundled in what feels like a dozen coats, but I can still feel the cool air whispering in my ears, my face bright red from the cool atmosphere. It opened on a Friday when it had just started to get cold, right before  Cece was wiping down all of the pots and pans when I walked in. The aroma in the air smelled like bread dough and the warmth of the air made me feel cozy and like I had owned a bakery for years. I felt comfortable, almost like I was supposed to be here. I have wanted a bakery for years and years, and now I get to own one, and own it with a life long friend. I see two loaves of white and brown bread were already resting on the countertop, rising to it’s full size. I hung up my bag and coat and put on my apron as fast as I could because I knew there would be a lot of people scooping out our new restaurant. As I walked more into the room, I spotted where the bread was rising. It needed a few more minutes to rise so I started working on some more bread dough for rye bread. Once I was done mixing the ingredient for the rye bread, Cece was working on some filling for a few lemon pies, so I started kneading the bread dough and cut all of the dough rolls into quarters and put them in the bread oven. After the sun was up and making it’s way through the sky, the store was open and packed full of people, also considering our bakery wasn’t too big. Cecily and I had to make a dozen bread loaves, five lemon pies, five meat pies, a couple dozen ginger snaps, and a ton of other food. We made a good amount of money that day, but not every day after that has brought us that much business, but I love owning a bakery, even though it’s very stressful sometimes.