I knead the dough mercilessly, relentlessly. Father said the work a man does with his hands is what cleanses his soul of sin. I am generally inclined to disagree with the old man, but he knew his sins, so there must be something to that.
I work the dough until all my sins have passed into it. Then I shape it into a loaf, placing it in the oven to bake. Later, I melt some butter to make a glaze; later still I give it to my dinner guests. They devour it, sin and all, with smiles on their faces.