The Art of Baking Bread with Children

It is autumn, sunlight glances in at the windows as I walk into the kitchen, recipe in hand. My heart filled with anticipation as my small son races ahead of me to gather the essential ingredients; we are going to make bread says Alison Jones

First, we search for a vessel big enough to hold our experiences and workings, it will need to be a large container as we are messy workers and don’t always get it right. We settle on the cool ceramic of the mason cash bowl, alike to the one my mother has; I think my grandmother had one too; it is a kitchen classic and our cauldron of sorts for today. 

Hands cleansed of the everyday presences of paint, unidentifiable sticky residues and general dust and dirt, sanctified by soap and water, we call the ingredients together. My small son rummages hopefully in the cupboard and the spirits of what we need come to us, bringing their gifts. 

I glance at the clock, being thankful for the spirit of time and the gift of this moment for us to be here, now, in the sunlit kitchen having this experience. The moments of our births have constellated to allow this to be, and for this I am grateful. We will use the gift of time in another way as we combine water and yeast, and allow the magic to begin.

We feel the spirit of place too, we are focused being present, here in the process of what we are doing, rooted in the hearth of our home, in our street, in our community, in our city; the particular part of the surface of the earth which we call home.