This morning my mother was telling a story about her childhood and how at that time her mother – my grandmother – kneaded the dough for five loaves of bread and one cake. To which my father immediately replied, “You have to knead it until the ceiling drips.”
I heard this phrase many times while kneading. According to my memories, I heard this from my mother when I was 6-7 years old, when I was happily trying to knead next to her. I didn’t understand this phrase for years.
