OCT 2024 - From Scratch

I was one of four graduate students who drove to Kona, Hawaii, after our PhD seminar in Hilo, ready to relax after a challenging weeklong seminar. The inn was set among lush vegetation—coffee bushes, various fruit trees, herbs, flowers—a visual and aural feast. I luxuriated in my private room, welcomed with fresh mango and pineapple juice by the innkeeper, A. a woman in her late 40’s like me. We talked about how she’d come to Hawaii, the two of us easily sharing stories of our lives.

At dinner, A. left the room smiling, but looked grim when she returned. When the two of us were alone I asked what was wrong. “The baker’s oven is down and he can’t deliver fresh rolls and bread for breakfast. I know people will understand, but I take pride in my food and it’s upsetting not to be able to serve a complete breakfast.”

“Do you have yeast?” She nodded. “Flour?” Nod. “Honey?” Nod. “Well, I can make rolls and bread if you want.”

“How? I don’t have a big mixer or a bowl large enough to mix the dough.”

“Do you have a good-sized carton? We can line it with aluminum foil and grease it so the dough won’t stick? If so, and you’re willing to help, we could start around 6 tomorrow morning and the rolls should be ready by 8. We can top some of them with cinnamon and sugar.” 

“Are you sure? You’re a guest . . .”

I interrupted her. “It’ll be fun.” 

She shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve never made rolls or bread. I don’t even bake cakes or cookies.”

“Not to worry. Let’s find a box that’s big enough to mix the dough in and line it with aluminum foil. One less thing to do tomorrow morning.” 

“How will you know what to do? I don’t have any recipe books.”

“My bread started tasting good when I stopped using recipes.” She looked so upset I said, “If you’d rather me not do this I understand.” 

I could hear someone calling for her. She shook her head. “Hell, let’s do it. Forget the bread. Rolls are more than good enough. See you at six tomorrow.” She turned and left. I looked around the kitchen and found a large bowl I could use to begin making the rolls before putting the mess in the box.

In the morning she greeted me with coffee grown in her garden. Just what I needed to get going. She watched nervously as I mixed the yeast with warm water, added honey, salt and enough flour to form a ball. I put the dough in the carton and added more water and flour, tasting as I went, to make sure there was enough salt. When I had what I thought was enough dough, I put a towel over the box and put the box near the heater. 

Periodically I checked to see how much the dough had risen. When I could poke holes in it that didn’t fill up I put the dough on a greased, foil-covered counter. “Okay, here’s the fun part,” I told her. “Make little balls and then use your fingers to crease the middle. We can butter the top and put cinnamon and sugar on top of some, sesame seeds on some, and leave the rest plain. 

Fortunately, she had a big oven with lots of shelves but not many baking pans so we lined the shelves with greased aluminum foil and put the rolls on the shelves. “You were right,” she said, looking much more relaxed. “This is fun.” Privately I hoped people would like them.

As the rolls baked, the smells attracted guests who’d come for early morning coffee. One woman commented she didn’t know A. could bake. “I can’t,” she admitted. “It’s Nancy’s show.” She took one of the cinnamon rolls, buttered it, broke it into three pieces and gave one to the woman, one to me, and ate the rest. I held my breath, waiting to see what they thought. “Yum,” she grinned. “You can bake rolls for me any time.” The woman nodded, reaching for another roll.

By the time all the rolls were out of the oven and set in baskets on the tables, people were helping themselves. “Hot rolls,” said a few. “What a treat.” 

After breakfast A. came up to me and said, “No charge for your room.” 

Have you been in a situation where an ordinary skill solved an unexpected problem? What was that like?

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October monthly stories