There was a single period in my life when I completely lost interest in cooking and baking. It was right after my youngest sister, Inbar, passed away at age 27. When she died, my love of baking left with her. My beautiful sister loved and appreciated food, just like all the people in my family, but she was the only one who took her passion seriously and professionally (that was before I became a culinary producer). After she moved to New York, met Michael, married him, and gave birth to Ben-ben (Benjamin), got diagnosed with leukemia, underwent treatment, and achieved remission, she attended the Culinary Institute of New York and became a pastry chef.

During her studies, our townhouse in Brooklyn looked and smelled like a bakery. Since she kept a kosher house, my sister would drop off her daily creations at ours. She was so proud of herself when she showed up with a sourdough loaf or a perfect brioche that she had made with her own hands. My sister was happiest when she was around children, family, and food. She was so enthusiastic and optimistic about everything, and never lost her sense of humor, even when she was connected to endless cables and tubes and looked like a computer. I remember the glow on her beautiful face when she told me how to make a real, proper, traditional loaf of bread.

Then—two months before Michael completed the work on their new Baltic Art Café—the cancer came back. About a year after she died, I slowly started to enjoy baking again. I started to bake her wholesome, honest bread—bread that made me sad and long for her but at the same time gave me solace. Inbar’s bread. Every loaf of bread I bake, I dedicate in my heart to her. Over the years it has become my weekly routine, a private memorial ceremony to keep her alive.

Everyone needs to make bread at least once in their lifetime. Not necessarily for fun or for the goodness of it, but for the sense of self-sufficiency and independence. Think about it: we humans created bread. It’s the most humble and basic staple, yet the most satisfying, life-saving food. My grandparents never threw bread in the trash. They kissed it, thanked it, and placed it on the ground for the birds. My grandmother-in-law used to say that without bread, she wouldn’t have survived the Holocaust.

Once you become comfortable with this basic bread recipe, making other breads such as pita, challah, and bagels. The process is simple and easy but requires some patience and time—mostly hands-off time. You don’t need to keep the dough company while it’s rising and baking.