I first started making bread in 2012. And I was terrible at it. My loaves, crafted lovingly with impatient, fumbling hands, resembled browned, misshapen hockey pucks. I didn't know about the importance of a good crumb then, and either I didn't know how sub-par they were or I didn't care, I was just excited to learn.
Cut to now, this week, and I have made two loaves of bread that when I sliced into them, I almost wanted to cry a little.
Tonight is the longest night of the year, and I felt it. My body cramped and blood stained already faded stains of my underwear. Things just felt wrong all day, like I was half awake in a dream and I wasn’t able to do any of the things I needed to do to be alright. But it turns out, things are all right.
My name is Julia, and ever since I can remember, I've been making sense of my world through food. Whether it's a family gathering, sharing a meal with friends, finding peace with my mind and body or falling in love, food has always been my north star. This little corner of the internet is a place where I can follow my fork and share my journey of life through food.