My mother made bread in my childhood. From scratch. Using yeast, water, sugar, shortening, salt and flour. I suspect it was to save money.
My father has taken up bread making in his retirement. From scratch. Apparently his first efforts fell a bit flat. He’s learned to knead the dough more than he thought was needed. He’ll tell you all about the science of it if you ask.
Mom says Dad makes bread like his mother did – by feel. There was a recipe in the beginning. Some experimentation. Another recipe. More experimentation. Some research. Now he adds an egg and sour cream. The dough makes great cinnamon rolls; though it’s a bit unorthodox for dinner rolls.
Bread baking. For the necessity of feeding the body. For the joy of feeding the spirit.