Week two of quarantine. The commissary ran out of flour.
FLOUR. The thing I bought on Mom's advice three weeks ago. The thing that sits in my pantry, twenty pounds of it, while every other military wife on base is posting on social media: 'Where can I find flour?' 'Does anyone have flour?' 'I'll trade toilet paper for flour.'
Mom was right. Mom is always right. The woman who said 'buy flour' before anyone knew this was coming, who said 'stock up on canned goods' before the shelves emptied, who has been preparing for crises since 1992 when she married a Navy man and learned that preparedness isn't paranoia — it's survival.
I shared my flour. Not all of it — I'm not a saint, I'm a military wife with a pantry to protect — but I split a five-pound bag between Soo-Jin and a neighbor named Daniela who has three kids and was in tears on the phone because she wanted to make bread and there was no flour anywhere.
Bread. Everyone wants to make bread during a pandemic. The world shut down and humanity's collective response was: I should learn to bake bread. There's something beautiful about that — the instinct to create, to transform, to turn flour and water and yeast into something warm and alive.
I wrote a blog post: 'Pandemic Bread: The Simplest Recipe You'll Ever Need.' Mom's basic bread recipe — flour, yeast, water, salt, a little honey. No kneading (because not everyone has the counter space or the patience). Just mix, rise, bake. A bread that even deployment wives and pandemic novices can make.
Thirty thousand views. The most-viewed post I've ever written. Thirty thousand people want to make bread.
Caleb helped. He stood on his step stool and 'mixed' (stirred enthusiastically, spilling flour everywhere, eating raw dough when I wasn't looking). The bread came out imperfect — slightly flat, slightly dense — but it was BREAD. I made bread. From flour I bought because my mother told me to.
Mom called. 'How's the flour holding up?'
'I shared some. With Soo-Jin and a neighbor.'
Silence. Then: 'Good. You share. That's what you do. When you have enough, you share.'
When you have enough, you share. The military wife credo. The Donna Abernathy philosophy. The entire purpose of a recipe binder.
The bread is warm. The flour is shared. The world is closed but the kitchen is open.
Open for business. Open for thirty thousand people who need to make bread.
Dinner at 1800. Soup and bread. The oldest meal in human history, now the newest.
That imperfect, slightly flat loaf Caleb helped me make — the one he stirred with wild enthusiasm and ate raw off the spoon — was just the beginning. Once I knew thirty thousand people were looking for a bread they could actually pull off, I kept coming back to this Cream Cheese Bread: it’s the recipe I reach for when I want something that feels a little more generous than a basic loaf, something soft and rich that rewards even a first-time baker. Mom’s philosophy was share what you have, and this bread — tender, slightly sweet, forgiving — is exactly worth sharing.
Cream Cheese Bread
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min (plus 1 hr 30 min rise) | Servings: 12 slices
Ingredients
- 2 1/4 tsp active dry yeast (1 standard packet)
- 3/4 cup warm water (110°F)
- 1 tbsp honey
- 8 oz cream cheese, softened
- 2 tbsp unsalted butter, softened
- 1 tsp salt
- 1 egg, room temperature
- 3 to 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
- 1 tbsp milk (for egg wash)
Instructions
- Activate the yeast. In a small bowl, combine warm water, honey, and yeast. Stir gently and let sit 5–10 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast may be expired — start over with a fresh packet.
- Mix the dough. In a large bowl, beat together the softened cream cheese, butter, and salt until smooth. Add the egg and mix well. Pour in the yeast mixture and stir to combine. Add flour 1/2 cup at a time, stirring until a soft, slightly sticky dough forms (you may not need the full 3 1/2 cups).
- Knead. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 6–8 minutes until smooth and elastic. The dough should spring back when poked. Alternatively, use a stand mixer with a dough hook on medium for 5 minutes.
- First rise. Place dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
- Shape the loaf. Punch down the dough. Shape it into a smooth log and place in a greased 9x5-inch loaf pan. Cover and let rise again for 30 minutes, until the dough crowns just above the rim of the pan.
- Preheat and egg wash. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Whisk together the egg and milk, then gently brush over the top of the risen loaf for a golden finish.
- Bake. Bake for 30–35 minutes until deep golden brown on top. The loaf should sound hollow when tapped on the bottom. If the top is browning too fast, tent loosely with foil after 20 minutes.
- Cool. Remove from the pan and cool on a wire rack for at least 15 minutes before slicing. (We know. It’s hard to wait.)
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 215 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 30g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 240mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 209 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.