Never-ending Fry Bread Dough
Bread Feed the Masses
Recipe to feed for fifty pieces that could feed seventy-five people, if stretched, only one piece each of fry bread: Take one large plastic bowl, with lid; five-pounds of flour, two-yeast packages, some sugar, powdered milk, and enough water to make up a good batch of soft bread dough, cover and set side and until it doubles in size. Except this same recipe continued to feed fifty times fifty and just keep giving enough dough to feed several hundred. Yes, five pounds of flour and water created fry-bread dough, which just kept on giving-and-giving and giving more.
If you have ever meditated, received a vision or created some thought-form visualization then maybe you might understand how I prayed this day.
This day standing in the sun, spirit-heart expresses a beautiful vision, filled with sacred, bright, crystal, spiritual beauty. Yes, the pray, my heart formulated prior to leaving for the gathering in Tehachapi and before I received the ear of blue-corn.
Once camp was set-up it was time came to prepare a bowl of fry bread dough, before it was time for the sacred evening blessings of the ceremonial ground. My spirit-heart envisions all that came to this gathering or our camp in need of fry bread, the number did not matter, this bowl would always have enough to feed all in need. I asked that no one be allowed to go away hungry, for the bread was needed to nourish mind, body, spirit, and stomachs.
I had not doubt this could happen, since I was asking this for the masses and not for personal gain. Grandmother M taught me the power of sacred prayers and on a number of occasions; I had observed this happen when she was cooking to feed masses and food was short. In addition, to what a few priest told me about the healing power Grandmother M put into the food she cooked. Her teachings became my motivation to pray over the fry bread the way she taught me.
In my vision, I saw long lines of people coming for fry bread, the bowl continues to supply fry bread dough, and people continue to receive with movement of sun and moon moving across the sky changing from day to night several times. Fry bread continues to be available for all with their plates out receiving shining fry bread, shining with a sacred light.
Left the bowl on top of our station wagon in the sun with the lid sealed tight, when I returned a couple of hours later, five pounds of flour had blown the lid off the bowl and covered the roof of our station and down across the front window shield, and a dough fall on our front car doors. My heart sunk, when I first returned to our campsite, seeing the wild growth of dough; which left me wondering and offering up another prayer for this to feed the masses. The Sacred Ones had accepted part of the dough, their gift and my sacred offering. When I punched down the dough there appeared just a little over half a bowl and a voice standing directly beside me says fear, what you seek—will BE.
We only supplied our campsite and two others, with fry bread. The next morning, a friend was going around to numerous camps to see if we had anything to help feed the elders, besides money and then money would help purchase supplies to continue with the eight meals for the rest of the weekend to feed the elders and their families. I handed her my fry-bread dough, which had risen to a full bowl over night, without additional flour.
Over the next three-days it is hard to say how many pieces of fry-bread that bowl offered up, except to say it would normally that three or four bowls for dough to feed the amount of people they feed at each feeding. The people cooking the fry-bread assumed one of the cooks was adding more flour to dough and said nothing until the last feed on the last day. They were trying to cook all the dough up, before they handed the bowl back to me, but that refused to happen and they started questing who had added more flour to the bowl of dough. You can imagine their surprise when they discovered no one added flour to the bowl the entire weekend; which is when they discovered all the flour they purchased was still inside the cook wagon.
Around that time Grandfather WhiteCloud, medicine man, came up and asked for five pieces of fry bread. They took the dough from the bowl and began to prepare the fry-bread. A couple of the women started to tell him about the dough, and how every time they thought they were almost to the bottom of the bowl they looked back and the bowl was full. Grandfather stood there chuckling at the women and took them each time they turned their back the bowl resupplied fry-bread dough. This I know because I was standing off to the side listening to the women talk and I was chuckling, too.
About an hour later three-woman with their hands on the bowl, very ceremoniously arrived and presented me with the fry-bread dough and bowl bad. The woman had dubbed it the never-ending bowl of fried-bread dough. They were honored I had given them the bowl to the feed the masses and they had the opportunity to realize the Sacred Love of the Elders was still with the people. Needless, to say, this was not the end of the fry bread dough, its story continues.