Laxmi B.
Photography by Emma Kraus
If you’re reading this, I think you might be surprised by how much a loaf of bread can teach you about life.
Why is it that baking feels so cathartic to some? Many might argue that the repetitive motion washes away the worries of your day. Mixing. Kneading. Scoring. All simple actions that allow your mind to just. shut. off.
While that is quite a convincing claim, I would suggest that the act of baking reignites the mind instead of shutting it off. For me, baking Mom’s Zucchini Bread was the reminder that I needed to be an active participant in my own life. Only then, would I reap the sweet benefits to come.
The zucchini. To some, this vegetable might seem no more ordinary than its green counterparts, broccoli and peas. To me, this vegetable is much more – a vessel that has absorbed the water and nutrients and life around it. Full of potential, yet without a distinct flavor of its own.
The first time that I made this recipe was not the first time that I had struggled to get more fulfillment of life beyond the daily mundanities. I am an introvert by nature, more than happy to enjoy the cocoon of my small family, close friends, and few meaningful activities in my life. But while I was content in my own solitude sometimes, other times, I felt like this misunderstood vegetable, the zucchini, constantly absorbing the energies of those around me, but unable to feel like I could contribute energy of my own.
In this recipe, the zucchini is shredded and drained of its water, a passive participant in the seemingly similar operation that life inflicts on so many people (like myself) who, in the past, did not have the energy to fight it.
What I have learned from this recipe is that the zucchini, despite its apparent insipidity, can in fact hold its own as the star of zucchini bread, it just needs some encouragement from the ingredients around it. Flour, eggs, sugar, and walnuts might seem just as commonplace, but actively combining these ingredients with the zucchini, working the batter evenly, and waiting the full, agonizing sixty minutes it takes to bake in the oven allows each ingredient to transform into something that is beyond what they are individually capable of.
The biggest change that prevented me from becoming a more active participant in my own life was learning that it is more than okay to ask for help when you need it. Asking for help does not mean that you are weak or incapable. And asking for help, for other introverts like myself, may come in the form of taking breaks for yourself when you need one. Lastly, things never come together in life until they are ready to do so. Taking a peak at an open oven will not make the zucchini bread bake faster. And your bread (and life) will be all the more sweet if you let it take all the time it needs to develop.
If you’re still reading this, thank you for baking (and breaking) bread with me. I hope that you will look at your future baking adventures as a way to indulge in yourself and the journey that is your life.
Laxmi B., Boston University
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