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Chapter Three. Potato Water Yeast.

Beth was not going to cry. She was not. There were so many other worse things to cry about than this. But as Beth looked down into the glass jar of failure, crying was all she wanted to do.

The book was open on the counter and she looked over the recipe again. How did it come out so wrong? What did she do that was so wrong to mess it up? It had been easy and straightforward and Beth had actually felt confident as she worked through the steps. She had made the yeast, had gone to bed and had actually dreamt about the bread she would be able to bake today. She hadn't eaten bread in so long and she honestly had never thought she'd be able to again. Instant yeast in the packets was only good for so long and eventually, it would be both impossible and useless to use.

But then she began thinking. It didn't have to be impossible. What did people do all of those years ago when they didn't have access to a store and were on their own for weeks and months? What did the freaking pilgrims do? They had eaten breads and definitely didn't have instant yeast. That was how Beth needed to think now. How did the pilgrims or cooks in the dark ages do all of these things? How did people in the Bible bake breads? JESUS ate bread, for goodness sake, without instant yeast being around.

On one of the two couches in the family room, Daryl began to stir and within a few seconds of that, he was sitting up and wide awake. Beth always envied him for that. Even after all of this time and how much her life had changed, she still wasn't a morning person.

She watched him for a moment as he stood up and stretched. Ever since those two men had come into their house and one of them had tried to force himself on her, resulting in Daryl killing both of them, he hadn't slept with his boots off. For a while – before that – he had and Beth hoped that they could both reach that point again where they felt comfortable enough to relax. Just a little.

Beth's head was tilted down, to the book, and she discreetly wiped at her cheeks so he wouldn't see the few tears that had managed to escape. When Daryl stepped into the kitchen and stopped on the other side of the counter where she stood, she felt like it would be okay to lift her head. But when she did and Daryl took one look at her, she knew that he knew she had been crying.

"We can't have bread today. Something went wrong with the yeast," she told him in as steady a voice as possible.

"Alrigh'," he gave a nod. "You need me to do anythin'?"

She exhaled a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

He gave her a look then and she was actually becoming familiar with that look. He gave it to her anytime she apologized; like she was crazy for saying that to him.

"I know how much you were looking forward to having bread today."

"You were lookin' forward to it, too," he reminded her. "But it's alrigh' if it can't be done. We've lived this long without it."

"No," Beth shook her head. "I want to try this. I just have to figure out what I did wrong."

"What do you need me to do?"

She smiled. "You want potatoes for breakfast again?"

"'course," he gave a nod and she still smiled.

The people of the St. George subdivision had not let them down. Beth and Daryl walked through every backyard and saw that more than one house had been attempting to grow their own vegetable gardens and being neglected for so long had killed some of them off but others had grown wild, reseeding themselves and continuing to grow.

Beth transported only a few of the plants into their backyard while leaving the rest. She would let them grow were they were since they had done so well right where they were and hopefully, rain would be plentiful for the growing season and she and Daryl could have vegetables for the winter and more crops next year.

They had actually found a few potatoes with Beth taking a couple so the others could remain, growing and sprouting more potatoes.

"'m gonna hit the bucket and do a perimeter patrol," Daryl let her know as she began gathering the supplies to try this again. "You call me in if you need anythin'." Beth nodded and she began reading over the recipe one more time. "Hey." Daryl reached over and covered her hand with his. Beth's eyes flew up to look to his face. "If this don't work, it's not the end of the world, Beth."

Beth couldn't help but smile at that – almost laugh – and Daryl smiled a little, too.

"I know," she nodded.

Daryl gave her hand a squeeze and Beth felt a tightening in her stomach that seemed to be happening more and more while around this man.

But Beth couldn't think about that right now. She had to focus on this because while she knew she and Daryl could survive without bread, that didn't mean that she wanted them to. She thought of the pilgrims and the people living on the prairies. They had done it so Beth was going to learn to do it, too.

First, wash and peel one large potato. She made sure she saved the potato peels because there were things she could do with those, too, she had learned instead of just throwing them away. Then, cubing the potato, she placed it in a pan, added water and boiled it as if preparing mashed potatoes. She boiled and cooked, covered, until the potato was soft.

She smiled as Jack, the fox, affectionally moved in and out, around her ankles, as she worked.

Once the potato was fully cooked, she set the potato cubes aside for Daryl to eat and then rested the pan on a potholder on the counter, cooling the water down. She thought that was where she had made the mistake the night before. She hadn't let the water cool down enough and that had made the yeast completely rancid. She would be sure to not make the same mistake twice. They did not have endless supplies for her to keep messing up.

The water cooled and Beth measured the flour and sugar into a jar, stirring and making sure it was combined. This time, she made certain the water was cool before adding that. She gently stirred it all together until it was smooth. The book said it would look almost like wallpaper paste and looking through the glass, Beth thought that that was exactly what it looked like.

They had found a pack of coffee filters – quite easily actually because that seemed to be one thing that other people hadn't wanted for themselves. Beth took one now and fastened it to the top of the jar with a rubber band. It needed to be protected but still able to breathe. She then carried it to the mantle above the fireplace – a warm place for it to grow. Unlike a sourdough starter that took days, they called this a true yeast recipe and it would be ready in about eight hours or so. Also, if this yeast worked, two tablespoons of potato yeast was equal to one tablespoon of store-bought yeast so she would be able to make more than one loaf of bread from this jar of potato water yeast.

If God was looking down on them, maybe Beth and Daryl would be able to have bread for breakfast tomorrow.

…

"Fuck me."

Beth smothered a giggle behind her hand but Daryl hardly even noticed as he chewed slowly, savoring it. He wanted to rip into it like an animal because he was eating fucking bread, but he forced himself to be a human being and not choke to death.

This time, the yeast had formed its bubbles and risen, expanding inside of the jar as it was supposed to and Beth spooned out the amount she needed. Daryl hadn't meant to stay in the kitchen and watch but he hadn't been able to help himself. There was plenty of other things to do but Beth was in their kitchen, at the counter, mixing bread dough. She was making bread.

She had formed the dough into a round shape and rested it overnight. The next morning, she then had carefully put it into the Dutch oven they had found in the house next door, setting it on the rack over the flames of the fire Daryl had built up out in the backyard. She hadn't been sure how long it would take but she kept a very close eye on it and once it seemed cooked and golden brown enough, she pulled it off the rack. Daryl leaned over the top of it as she lifted the lid so they could both get a look at it for the first time at the same time.

"'s beautiful," Daryl said before he even really realized it.

With a laugh, Beth carried the Dutch oven back into the kitchen. She gently turned it over, relieved that the loaf easily fell out. She set it on a cooling rack and looked down at it. It really did look beautiful. It looked brown and cooked and she couldn't really believe that she was actually looking down at a loaf of bread that she had baked.

"I saw my mom and grandma do this," she explained. She picked up the loaf and holding it to her ear, she gently knocked on the bottom of it. "It sounds like it should…"

She didn't know though. Had she really been able to bake a loaf of bread? After everything that had happened – both to her and Daryl and to the world – had she actually been able to do this?

"Do you… can you try it for me?" She asked nervously.

"Yeah," he answered immediately – eager – and she smiled, turning to grab a knife.

The crust sounded crunchy as she cut through it and she cut the bread so she could give Daryl an inside slice. It looked baked. It smelled bake. It was still warm as she handed Daryl that first slice and held her breath as he brought it to his mouth.

And when those two words left him after his first bite – "Fuck me" – Beth breathed again. She cut herself a slice and took a bite, slowly chewing it. It was just a loaf of plain white bread and yet, it was one of the most amazing things she had ever eaten. She had baked it. She and Daryl were eating an actual loaf of bread and it was because of her.

She didn't know if Carol or Maggie could have done this.

She watched Daryl as he finished one slice and reached to cut himself another one.

For the second time that day, Beth felt tears in her eyes and she wanted to cry.

…

Thank you so, so much for reading and please take a moment to leave a comment! (This potato water yeast recipe is a very old recipe that I found in one of my cookbooks that I have always wanted to try myself.)