A ring of dough

Sandra laughed. “What could possibly go wrong in making bread?”

I grew up on a farm pretty much in the middle of nowhere. One of the things I learned well was the value of self-sufficiency. And when I was leaving for two years to serve a mission in New York, my mother insisted that I spend time learning to cook the main foods we usually ate.

When I got to New York, I spent a lot of helping struggling families. Much of their struggle was financial, and self-sufficiency skills can help a person save money.

When the ladies of the church congregation learned that I made home-made bread, they asked if I would do a demonstration for all who were interested. I felt awkward teaching women how to cook and said so. That was when Sandra, the president of the women, assured me it would be okay. She also promised to provide all of the ingredients that I needed.

Sandra told me the group wouldn’t be too big. “There will probably be about a half dozen women there, and we are going to also invite their husbands to enjoy the fresh home-made bread. We’ll also allow the women to invite friends, but I doubt more than one or two extras will come.”

When I arrived at the church the night of the demonstration, two tables were set up for people to sit at and eat, and another two were there for us to knead the bread. Sandra had all of the needed supplies in the kitchen. But as the time for the demonstration approached, we were in for a surprise as the hall started to fill. More tables were set up, and by the time the demonstration was to start, more than fifty women were there with almost an equal number of men.

Sandra sent her assistant to the store for more supplies and bread pans. We decided one loaf of bread could feed about four people, so we would need more than twenty-five loaves. The women organized in groups of two, and together they did all of the things I showed them while their husbands hungrily watched. The women mixed the dough and kneaded it. They seemed to enjoy punching and rolling the dough. We put it into the pans, and then we moved the pans to the kitchen to let the bread rise while some women provided some musical entertainment.

Once the entertainment was over, the loaves had risen and were tall and beautiful. It was time to start running them through the ovens. That was the moment when one of the ladies realized she was missing her wedding ring. It was obvious it had to be in one of the loves. But they were all in identical pans. Hoping to save as many loaves as possible, the women went through the loaves one at a time. As fate would have it, the ring was in the very last loaf.

The loaves were put back in the pans, but they never rise well a second time. The entertainment did a half-hearted second rendition of the same music, and then the half-risen loaves were put into the four ovens. When they came out, people ate with gusto, but I knew the loaves were heavy and flat.

One old man said to me, “They were good and all, don’t get me wrong. But I think we’ll stick to store-bought bread.”

As the man walked away, Sandra, who had heard what he had said, came up and put her hand on my arm. “This is my fault. I guess I now understand what can go wrong.”

Then she smiled and said, “I guess we’ll just have to do it again. But next time, we’ll have everyone remove their wedding rings first.”