Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s painting ,“The Peasant Wedding” (1567), depicts a rambunctious, old world, small town celebration. Uproarious laughter and boisterous shouting, the banging of empty ale mugs on heavy wooden tables, the giggle of children munching on treats, spill out from the painting. It’s a snapshot of a typical village scene from medieval times and one of my favorites. When the flash, zap and zing of technology sends shockwaves through my system and ramps me to the point of overload, I’m tempted to think that maybe they didn’t have it so bad. Maybe their chaos was somehow “healthier” than ours today. But, I know better. The daily labor was intense and family survival depended upon everyone doing their part. Being a peasant wife wasn’t always a pleasant life.
Even so, nostalgia paints a dreamy picture. The slow-go mode gets me into a barefoot frame of mind and frees me to fancy that I’m an artisan of sorts. There’s an authenticity in simple things that brings healing and renewal. The smell of fresh baked bread, a glass of homemade wine, offers a calming bond with the soul of humanity and fosters a communion with the people of the past.
In learning about breads, I became intrigued with the magic of yeast and this led me to wine making. One of my sons helped me get started and after a few batches, I was hooked. Mostly I stick to wine kits, but I’ve made banana wine, honey wine (aka mead) and dandelion wine from scratch. “Mom’s White Label” ornaments every bottle and hosts the name and a snippet of information about the saint of the day. It seems especially fitting when these saints are from “back in the day.”
Old-world breads. Artistically beautiful. Scratch baked. Tasty. If you are so inclined, gobble up some good books on the art of bread making: The New Artisan Bread in Five Minutes A Day; Baking Artisan Bread:10 Expert Formulas for Baking Better Bread at Home; and, (of course) The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Easy Artisan Bread.
Fresh from the oven ciabatta, served with a side of olive oil, paired with a glass of homemade wine, offers a moment to pause. There’s a wholesomeness, a wholeness, a holiness, that comes with stepping back and slowing down. Late in the day at home happy hours become mini holy hours, reminiscent of peasant like family celebrations. Bread and wine – the two naturally – and supernaturally – just go together. For a little while, all seems right with the world. Cheers!
