July smelled of bread

This month, there were scents in the air that reminded us of something we hadn’t thought about for a long time.

It smelled of summer, of warm earth and of fruit so sweet that it needs nothing else.

But this year, I thought of one more scent.

July smells of bread.

It is at the end of July that the harvest is in full swing, the fields change colour, the grain ripens, and there is something simple yet very important about this whole summer landscape. It is then that you can really see just how much work and history lies behind something as seemingly simple as a slice of bread.

And I think that’s exactly what this July reminded me of – the food we see on our plates has its own story.

What exactly is seasonality?

July was the height of summer at the Stary Młyn Pierogarnia restaurants. Blueberries appeared on the tables, and with them all the best aspects of seasonal flavours – nostalgia, simplicity and the fact that dishes featuring blueberries need no advertising, because we look forward to them all year round.

Seasonality is more than just the daily choice of produce that is currently in season. It is the rhythm of nature and the cycle we have known for generations.

Strawberries = June

Blueberries = July

Tomatoes = August

Chanterelles = the end of summer.

And then all these flavours disappear, leaving us to wait another year for them.

That is precisely why food has such a powerful ability to bring people together.

After all, it is not just different flavours that come together at the table. Stories, memories, generations and experiences come together too. What is simply a slice of bread to one person may be a memory of the family home, a holiday at the grandparents’ or a Sunday breakfast for another.

And whilst we’re on the subject of bread…

In Polish tradition, it holds far greater significance than one might think.

For farmers, it has been a symbol of a bountiful harvest for centuries, and for hosts, a symbol of hospitality. It was the result of hard work: first in the fields, then in the bakery. That is why bread has become one of the most important symbols of the harvest festival – a celebration that gives thanks for the harvest.

And this perspective resonates with me the most, because when you go to a restaurant, it’s easy to get used to the idea that food is simply there. In restaurants, we order ingredients, prepare dishes, put together menus, take photos and post about them on social media.

And yet behind every product lies someone’s labour, someone’s patch of field, someone’s hands, someone’s idea and time.

At Stary Młyn Pierogarnia, we also have our own daily morning ritual

It’s a ritual centred around bread. We bake it on the premises, and every day it finds its way onto our guests’ tables as an appetiser or a side dish.

In one section of the restaurant, you can also take loaves of freshly baked bread home with you.

It may seem like a small thing, but I believe it is precisely these little details that give a place its character.

A restaurant is not just about the menu and the décor – it is made up of the smells, the sounds, the way the food is served, the people who welcome guests, and the things that appear on the table even before the ordered dish has left the kitchen.

Jedzenie może być powodem, żeby się zatrzymać

Polecam sobie przypomnieć w tym miesiącu, że warto być wdzięcznym – za to, że możemy usiąść przy pełnym stole, mamy wybór, możemy dzielić się jedzeniem z innymi. Za to, że jedzenie nie musi być tylko sposobem na zaspokojenie głodu, ale może być pretekstem do spotkania, rozmowy, świętowania i bycia razem.

Sierpień jest dobrym momentem, żeby się na chwilę zatrzymać i to zauważyć.

Lato jeszcze trwa. Na straganach piętrzą się owoce i warzywa, pola dają swoje plony, a wieczory są nadal długie, choć gdzieś w powietrzu zaczyna już być czuć, że lato powoli zmierza ku końcowi.

Dlatego korzystajmy, jedzmy sezonowo, kupujmy lokalnie, jeśli mamy taką możliwość.

I przede wszystkim doceniajmy, że możemy usiąść przy pełnym stole.

Czasem zwyczajna kromka chleba potrafi przypomnieć nam, jak wiele rzeczy musiało wydarzyć się wcześniej, żeby mogła na nim wylądować.