My mother used to say the baking gene skipped generations in the maternal line in our family. She was no slouch in the kitchen and I never saw anyone turn down one of her cookies. But she did not love getting her hands in the bread dough the way I do, nor do I remember her making any cakes beyond the cake mix specials for family birthdays. According to Mom, her mother was the lover of flour and baking , and true to her prediction, I came by this love of baking. I have my grandmother’s wooden spoons in the jar on my kitchen counter. On days when the air feels right and my sourdough starter is ready to go, the spoons come out of the jar and I call upon the spirit of my Mormor to guide my next bread-baking adventure.

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