Fresh from the Oven

I'm not hungry, or at least I wasn't hungry, until today's domestic daydream. My mouth is watering at the memory of a smell, the fresh-from-the-oven-made-at-home bread smell. If I wasn't at the office reading Illinois contempt of court case law, I would be home working on a yeasty concoction that would fill the entire house with that smell.

Back in my newly married days, I took on my mom's recipe for Apple Streusel Bread, which is when I took this picture. (I was so proud it looked like hers that I had to send it to her). As kids we called it the "apple ladder loaf" because of the criss-cross pattern on top. Mmmmm . . . the smell this makes.

In my dreams, I have time to make the dough from scratch, knead it and let it rise. But my mom was always practical. This beautiful bread starts with sweet dough from the freezer section at the grocery store. My little domestic heart was satisfied with peeling and cutting the apples to make the filling. The smell, my friend, is not diminshed with a little help from the local Jewel.