Mom's Fresh Baked Bread

I’d like to pay a lil’ tribute to my mom. A few years back my mom went home to be with the Lord. She was the greatest cook. As a small child living in the country, I rode the bus. The bus stop was several blocks away from our home. To this day I have fond memories of stepping off the bus and smelling fresh baked bread coming straight out of mom's kitchen. Me and my lil' dog (who always met me at the bus stop) would take off running for the aroma. Bursting through the door, there they were, five or six loaves draped in tea towels cooling down. Mom would say, "Wash your hands first before you touch my bread." While washing, it was dad's job to do the slicing...oh such thick ones too. I always asked for the heel...it was the best. Holding that heel in the palm of my hand, I would lather it up with fresh butter, and it simply melted right into the hot bread. Finally, getting it to my mouth was the best part…Mmmmmmm! I would also give lil' pinches to my lil' dog Gidget. Ahhhhh...those were the days...mom's fresh baked hot bread. Mom had a great collection of cook books, but most of her cookin' was done from scratch...as is mine.

-Terry Ploeckelmann
9-2005