During a conversation with a friend, I found myself listing the small pleasures of city life.
I grew up in the city and have spent most of my life in Singapore, a compact nation of five million that feels very much like a vast, bustling metropolis. I’ve become accustomed to the sounds and rhythms that come with urban living: the background hum of traffic, snatches of conversation, the glow of skyscrapers, and the steady flow of people, vehicles and occasionally animals. These details—so ordinary to city dwellers—are oddly comforting to me.
I used to say with certainty that I loved living in cities, whether it was Singapore, Buenos Aires, or somewhere else, and that my pulse quickened whenever the landscape shifted from countryside to skyline. The small, quirky elements that make a city feel like a city are part of who I am. Deep down, I suspect I will always be a city girl at heart.
Still, the thing I struggle with most about big-city life is the constant rush.
There’s little time to wait, to stand in line, or to linger in the in-between moments. Everything seems to move from a start to a finish without pauses. I often catch myself sprinting through tasks—checking off lists only to make new ones immediately. Distractions pile up: the next show to binge, another e-book to start, a class to join, a new hobby to try. My mind slips from one item to the next, and I feel like a bullet train hurtling from station to station with no layovers.
When the pace becomes too much, I retreat to the kitchen.
Cooking and baking quiet my thoughts and force me to slow down. They teach patience—the willingness to let time and ingredients do their work. For me, baking bread is one of the clearest lessons in patience. Homemade bread always brings back memories of family trips to Australia and New Zealand when I was a child. A warm loaf is comfort, ritual, and slow, satisfying chemistry rolled into one.
The process—the meeting of warm water and yeast, the addition of salt, sugar and flour, the dough rising and being punched down—never fails to amaze me. The first few times I made bread I kept peeking under the tea towel like a child waiting on a gift. Over time I learned to resist the urge to constantly check and to let the dough rest and grow on its own schedule.
Each time I bake, I practice being patient.
I adjust the texture as I mix—adding a dash of water if it’s too dry or a little flour if it’s too sticky—then knead until the dough turns smooth. I cover it and walk away, often settling down with a book while it rises. When I return and lift the cloth, the dough has doubled and puffed into a soft, pale balloon. It’s a small, repeated miracle.
This batch I made into oat-topped dinner rolls. After dividing the dough into twelve even pieces, I arranged them close together in a baking pan so they could support each other as they rose. I brushed the tops with melted butter until they gleamed, sprinkled on quick-cooking oats, and then slid the tray into the oven. The result was fluffy, tender rolls with a hint of sweetness—a simple, honest treat.
There’s no showmanship, no rush—just plain, good bread made with patience and a little love.
EASY OAT BREAD ROLLS (Makes 12)
Adapted from Easy Recipes, Your Guide to Simple Recipes
Ingredients:
1) 1 cup warm water
2) 1 package active dry yeast (10 g)
3) 1/4 cup sugar (optional, for a slightly sweet roll)
4) 1 teaspoon salt
5) 3 tablespoons softened butter
6) 1 egg, beaten
7) 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
8) 1 cup quick-cooking oats
9) 20 g butter, melted (for brushing)
Steps:
1) Combine warm water and yeast in a large bowl. Stir and let sit for a few minutes until foam appears.
2) Add sugar (if using), salt, softened butter and the beaten egg. Mix until combined.
3) Gradually add the flour and mix until a soft dough forms. If the dough is very sticky, add flour a tablespoon at a time until manageable.
4) Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic, a few minutes.
5) Place the kneaded dough in a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap or a damp cloth, and let rise in a warm place for about 45 minutes, or until doubled in size.
6) Punch down the dough, flatten it gently, and divide into 12 even pieces.
7) Shape each piece into a ball and place them side by side in a greased baking pan so they touch.
8) Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F).
9) Let the rolls rise for another 30 minutes. Brush the tops with melted butter and sprinkle with oats.
10) Bake for about 20 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown. Cool slightly before serving.
These easy oat bread rolls are perfect for a quiet weekend morning or an unhurried dinner—simple, warm, and made to be savored.