This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago.
I was sweating from the heat and being too close to the dirt oven for comfort. I was a never see come see at that moment. The breezes carried the rising smoke away from us. I was here to experience the well known dirt oven baking. Dirt ovens are remnants of the good old days. I surmise that these things become popular as we long for the good old days. It is a way of experiencing life of long ago today. My mom knows about the dirt oven. The oven is made of clay. Wood is burned inside the oven. There is a small door to the front. The burnt wood becomes like coals. A stick is then used to clean the oven after the wood burns. Then the baking begins. The breads are covered with fig leaves and left to bake. In the olden days people had to be creative with having less technology and less convenience.
The baker wiped his hands on his apron, smiled, and said that a dirt oven teaches patience more than baking. He explained that the fire must burn itself out before it can do its real work, just like people. As a boy, he used to watch his grandmother tend the oven while the village gathered, and she would tell him that bread tastes better when it is made slowly and shared freely. He said modern ovens are faster, but they do not carry memory, smoke, or story. When he finally lifted the bread from the oven, he nodded with quiet pride and said that every loaf holds a piece of the old days, and as long as people are willing to wait, those days will never truly disappear.
My friend Chatty loves how the bread tastes. He describes the smoky, earthy taste that modern ovens just cannot imitate. The bread is moist and deeply flavorful. I know. Who would think plain old bread could be flavourful? Maybe it is mind over matter or maybe it really is the oven. Dirt ovens bring about the community spirit typical of the good old days. It was a gathering and sharing of the joy of good food. My friend Chatty describes dirt ovens as an act of cultural resistance. We remember who we are and where we come from. They connect food, land, ancestry, and community in one go. I noticed an inscription on the handle of the paddle used to retrieve the items. It says "Good old days". Somehow the G, o and d letters were less faded than the rest. That spells God.
Comments