On Sunday I went to a Samba Workshop with live drums. 
There’s nothing like live music to get your creative energy pumping. The teacher was passionate about her country and its culture, Brazil, and was using dance and the music to explain different aspects of the history and culture. For example, that Brazilian music is a mix of Portuguese, African and Indigenous origin and samba is the dance that originated from the slaves, hence it is an expression of freedom. 
It’s beautiful to see facets of the past continued with passion today. It’s how we learn about other cultures as well as keep them alive. 
Petal fall in the park
So Sunday evening I set about making bread. It’s a nice thing to do in the weekend, because it takes time, time to knead, time to rise, time to mould. Its like art. Maybe my Irish heritage has given me a passion for bread, particularly the eating of it!!
I mixed the 1 kg of flour with the first packet of yeast 
and warm water and left this to rise. It went crazy. Then I had to add another 500g of flour, another sachet of yeast with salt and water to the first mixture. 
Talk about a lot of bread dough.
As we were going out at 6.30 for a family dinner, to Sal Rose, our local Italian restaurant, 
I decided at 5.50pm, that I had enough time to make the loaf and I would save the other half in the fridge over night to make the poppy-seed rolls the next day. I kneaded and shaped the loaf to rise while we were out, and baked it when I got home.
The next day I made the rolls,
the dough was still risen in the fridge so all good. This is a lot of bread!!!
With autumn upon us, rising the individual rolls took a bit longer, but nothing a little bit of sunshine couldn’t fix.
I love fresh white bread, with butter.
Such a sin.
