Yeast

Yeast is such an amazing organism. I always find a sense of awe when I work with it. Traditionally no metal tools are used in the mixing of yeast. It seems to share some properties with more elemental beings and cold metal upsets it, so wooden spoons and spatulas are much preferred. It is also a creature that grows at the same ideal temperature as us. Once in contact with fluid at blood temperature it thrives.

Knowing this brings a new relationship to the process of creating dough: Flour, a pinch of salt (with a little over the left shoulder “for luck”), the warmth frothing creature yeast in it’s liquid bath, and energy as supplied by the cook – forceful rolling waves of motion that transform these materials into a strong plastic substance that rebounds after touch. These are the ingredients with only the final one required- that of patience. Having formed and shaped this new substance one must wait for it to reach its full potential.

Approached from this time honoured perspective the production of the essential food that is bread resembles a ritual enactment of life’s unfolding. The push from behind, knocks on the head, the both gentle and brutal blows delivered to a newly moulded form, have a transformative effect on us too as we are shaped and perfected by life’s events.

The uses for the resulting dough are limited only by the extent of the cook’s creativity: pizza or loaf, knotted roll, plaited, savoury or sweet? A process such as this we each encounter daily as we choose our thoughts, select from a range of optional behaviours and manipulate our world to create new forms.

There is a playfulness about bread making that we would do well to emulate in our lives outside the kitchen. The joy of the child rolling his play-dough sausage, modelling little creatures, playing with great lightness of heart but in complete engagement with his activity. No other thought intrudes upon his Great Game and no distractions are permitted to penetrate his awareness.

Yeast flakes are in the pantry too. Long beloved of vegan eaters they are used at home principally as a flavouring and condiment. Apart from the mild, almost nutty flavour, their medicinal benefits are legion. This rich source of B group vitamins gives a supportive boost to our body’s own balance of yeast-like micro organisms on which some medications such as antibiotics may have an adverse effect.

The brewer rests his livelihood on his yeast. I too rest my future bounty on it with the regular scrupulous attention to the ginger beer plant on the windowsill, imagining the scorched summer days ahead when the batch will be enjoyed from tall glasses in which cubes of ice crack and clatter on an effervescent ginger sea.

Here is the last bit of Chapter 3 - any comments or editing suggestions would be greatly valued. Thanks

The next time Rhona met Charlie for a walk he was full of news. Six months previously he had bought a pair of ex-state duplex houses in Point Chevalier and converted one of these into a glass blower’s studio, renovating the second to live in. His partner Paul had left his secure teaching job then, to work as a full time as an artist craftsman. Now there were sufficient pieces ready to exhibit his work. Rhona had only met Paul a few times. She found him a reserved person. It was hard for her to visualize that softly spoken man involved in such an elemental craft. She told Charlie as much.

He laughed “Paul hides himself well, like you do Rhona. Anyway” he continued, “A friend of his, Philip Kerby, has offered him space at his Parnell gallery. Will you help him set up?”

As they turned into the grounds of the local cemetery Rhona asked. “Are you sure this Mr Kerby won’t mind me being involved?”

Charlie nudged her playfully on to the grass. “Don’t worry there was no objection when I floated the idea. You’ll like him I think.” They walked behind the chapel and as Rhona hadn’t said anything further Charlie went on. “Philip is always perfectly groomed. Sandy-brown hair cut short- he’s a snappy dresser in the old money sort of way. Straight though. Paul tells me he’s a confirmed bachelor. He certainly defends his private time and I, for one, don’t blame him. He would be a good contact for you.”

They had nearly completed their circuit and were emerging into Gowing Drive with Rhona still mulling over this information so Charlie said “What do you say?”

Rhona shrugged. “It’s years since I did anything like that. It’s a whole different market now surely. I don’t know if I could do it.” Rhona knew there was no way out of this. It was a token protest.

“All you have to do is come up with an idea. Tell Paul what it is and what you need and he will see to the rest. You help him set it up the day before and modify it the morning after for a two week exhibit. That’s it. Oh, and you have to come to the opening night - that’s compulsory.”

 Rhona could see he had thought of everything. It had always been easier to go along with Charlie than resist. They agreed that she would visit on Sunday to talk to Paul. They were nearly back at the shops when Charlie asked “How did the drawing go this week?”

Rhona could hear the defensive tone in her own voice as she answered. “Oh I tried, but - I met that man again.”

Charlie grunted and said “That’s a weird coincidence. I don’t believe in them”

Rhona had her head down, her auburn hair hiding her face. “No. There was a terrible misunderstanding over it. He thought I was interested but -I couldn’t – you know why not.”

Charlie stopped in his tracks, scowling at her.  He said briskly “No I don’t know why not. Everything you do for that man of yours could easily be done by a housekeeper and the rest his secretary does for him.”

They weren’t so chatty after that. Before she left him Rhona said “I’ll do it Charlie. The opening I mean. I don’t know about the rest. I have Gracie to think of and I don’t like deceiving people.”

“Fair enough,” Charlie’s speech was uncharacteristically sharp. “But I ask you this: Who are you deceiving right now Rhona?”

Charlie made no reference to that conversation when he collected her on Sunday. Visiting Paul’s studio was a delight. As soon as Rhona saw the jewel colours and the arresting shapes of the vases, bottles and platters a scheme began to form in her mind. She could envisage displays arranged against dark forest colours- something primitive- a canvas printed backdrop and spot lighting in a dimmed room. His work had a distinctive note and she wanted the viewer to hear it.

Paul approved. The only question was the big backdrop. Rhona confessed she could probably help him out there too. She had taken wide lens photos at the Domain last summer for Gracie’s school project. One or two of those images she thought would enlarge well to banner size. So there it was – a simple design with strong local context. Done.