Gathering Place
Baking as a family takes time—but the togetherness brings sweet rewards.
Baking with family is time well spent.
The old kitchen table rattles as Molly kneads and folds, turns and presses, flips and flops the soft mound of dough in a dusting of flour. She pats it into a perfect circle and smiles. Brushing the flour from her hands, Molly moves on to prep the bread pans. She knows how to grease and flour them just so, tapping the pans from end to end to form a coating, letting the excess flour fall.
It doesn’t seem so long ago that this same girl was 3 years old, tugging on my shirt and asking, “Mommy, I help?” I knew it would take me twice as long, but I tied aprons on my kids when they were tall enough to stand on chairs and peer into the big mixing bowls on the kitchen counter.
I measured and they poured. They stuck their little fingers in the bowl when they thought
I didn’t see and talked my ear off, making me lose my place in the recipe. They each held a big spoon in their tiny hands and stirred five whole circles before surrendering the task back to my stronger arms. The process took longer, but many sweet conversations took place while we made delicious treats.
I admit I sometimes lost patience and sent the cherubs on their way. Cookies burned while I was busy wiping sticky fingers, and the muffins weren’t always light and fluffy. Yet each time we gathered at the counter, I shared my love and gave them the gift of time, slowness and care.
These days, my kids are doing it all. They make chocolate chip cookies, brownies and gingersnaps, to name a few. Molly, in particular, has grown fond of baking bread. Eating it, too. She follows a simple, well-loved, handwritten recipe that’s big enough to produce just two loaves. She adores the whole process, from measuring and mixing straight through to lifting the golden loaves from the oven.
They stuck their little fingers in the bowl when they thought I didn’t see.
My husband and I secretly discussed getting Molly a bread machine for her next birthday. She could pour in the ingredients, press a few buttons and walk away! We thought we were geniuses for a whole five minutes. That’s how long it took us to realize what we would be taking away from her. She loves the feeling of the flour in her hands and the smooth stretch of dough when she’s kneading it. One of her favorite parts is punching the dough down after it has risen, all puffy, in a giant bowl resting over the warm air vent.
She knows she needs about half a day to get through the process, and she willingly sets aside the time. We decided to let her take that time, and we enjoy the end result when she offers slices of fresh, warm bread. Pass the butter, please.