Every week, I make a loaf of bread for my family. Nothing crazy, just a country loaf I’ve been making since before I had children. King Arthur Flour–always.

If you’ve been around a while, you know I owned my own bakery and I’ve branched out my baking in many different ways over the years.

But one thing remains consistent: our weekly loaf.

Why I keep It Simple

I never fell into the sourdough wormhole. Not because I don’t like sourdough, I just seemed to drift elsewhere. Sourdough didn’t quite feel like it was mine. Making a sandwich loaf was somehow much simpler and more peaceful to me than the care sourdough took.

The consistency of a weekly loaf is so much more than just feeding my family. When I first got into eating healthier, I thought I had to preach about it because it felt like I had been living in the dark my whole life.

Do you know what’s in your food?
Do you know what they put on the shelves?

None of that really matters unless it’s something you care about and can sustain. When I had children, I knew that the way I ate and prepared food was something I would carry into their lives. I wanted them to appreciate the effort that went into feeding them, and understand how to nourish their bodies and have a great and healthy love of food.

Making Bread with my Children

Since they were old enough to sit next to the mixer and help add ingredients, I had my two kiddos with me making messes and learning how to make bread.

Making our weekly loaf turned into moments. Simple moments. A lot of messes. And the loaf wasn’t just the bread itself, but what it turned into.

Learning to make eggs at the stovetop to eat with toast. Packed picnic sandwiches. Learning to create something with their hands that fed others and the joy that comes from that. Sitting at markets watching people buy mom’s bread until it sold out. Wanting something specific and knowing we could make it ourselves.

As time shifted and the children grew, our routines changed, too. Soon, eggs became something we collected from our chickens outside, claiming eggs by the bird’s name (“I want two Chikas!”). Dinner’s became more hands-on, and other loaves of bread made their way into the mix.

The one thing that always remained was the simple country loaf on the counter. Each week, we ate every last slice, no matter how many other recipes we may have had time to make.

When I was growing up, I had no idea where my food came from. I had no knowledge and no interest. It wasn’t until I was into adulthood I started caring more about my health and my relationship with food in general. I’m learning alongside my children in many ways. And maybe that’s a really great way to learn.

Real Life

While a loaf will take a few hours from start to finish, the hands-on work is minimal. It’s something you can squeeze in between tasks. Between naps. Between work calls. While the coffee is brewing. Any moment you can think of that offers you 5-10 minutes.

• Mixing ingredients (10 minutes)
• Punching and shaping the loaf (5 minutes)

It fits into real life without asking too much.

When the weekdays become exhausting and meal planning seems impossible, having that steady and consistent loaf is like a breath of relief. The smell of the buttery loaf baking in the oven is the scent of our home. It means we get to share in something together.

Something simple. Something imperfect. Something that’s ours.