The Only Way to Make Bread

In the opening pages of The Only Way to Make Bread, a steady line of people and their pets are streaming into a spacious kitchen. It’s a kitchen party, with young and old getting ready to visit, bake, and enjoy freshly baked bread. The counter or table is cleared, and the baking begins. Most dedicated bakers have favourite equipment, and author Cristina Quintero’s favourite bowl is “bright blue with a milky-white inside”. Depending on the recipe and one’s food culture, flour can range in colour and texture; all-purpose and bread flour common in most North American kitchens is “soft and white like fresh snow”, but flour can also be light brown or yellow, and be “scratchy. . powdery fine or coarse and heavy”. Salt adds flavour and sugar feeds yeast-based doughs so that they will rise. Liquid – water or milk – is necessary to hydrate the dough, and the addition of an egg (or two or three . . .) adds richness of flavour, colour, and boosts the yeast’s rising power. Then, there are the possible add-ins: herbs, fruit, cheese, seeds, or some type of cooked filling around which the risen dough can be wrapped.

No bread machines are used by these bakers! “Get out your best wooden spoon or use your hands and knead it all together until you can’t tell where this starts and that ends.” After the dough has been thoroughly mixed and kneaded, it needs a rest. At this point in the process, the doughs are all different; some stay rather wet and loose, some get bubbly, and some increase dramatically, while others stay small. On the pages depicting the resting dough, the bakers take some time out; a dog curls up for a nap, one little girl does her homework, toddlers play, and a couple of kids monitor the rising doughs (including a jar of sourdough starter.)

But once properly rested, the dough is ready for shaping. Like the flour with which it was made, the dough’s texture can vary from “soft, loose and shaggy . . . [to] bouncy and firm like fresh playdough”. Bread comes in all sorts of shapes. Formed into long strips, the dough becomes a braid; sometimes it changes from a small ball into a flat round, the shape of a puck; and, sometimes, it is rolled into the symmetrical globes which become dinner rolls. Bread isn’t always baked in an oven; sometimes it is fried, sometimes it is steamed, and sometimes grilled or cooked over an open fire.

Anyone who has baked bread knows that you can’t just keep it for yourself: “you absolutely must find someone to share it with. Because bread must always be broken together.” The smell of freshly baked bread is irresistible, and, after baking, a parade of different breads is carried out of the kitchen into a backyard. It’s a neighbourhood picnic, with kids and dogs playing, parents and grandparents helping to serve, and everyone is inhaling the intoxicating aroma of all those different-looking and different-tasting breads arranged on the picnic tables. “All bread is delicious . . . and there is only one way to make it: your way.” The secret ingredient to all good bread is love, and anyone who makes bread does so with love, knowing that they love to share the gift of their skill and time in the kitchen.

The next-to-final pages present a two-page spread featuring a variety of breads from many different cultures. Along with a picture of each bread is a short note about the culture from which it comes, what it contains, when it is eaten, and some interesting facts about the bread and possible regional variations. The breads are all favourites of the author and illustrator’s friends and family, and their recommendations make you want to find a good recipe for Challah, Focaccia, Shokupan, Hardo, Tô, Puri, Bao, Campfire Bannock, and good old Canadian Dinner Buns. There’s nothing “white bread” about the latter when you enjoy a freshly baked bun slathered with butter.

The last two pages of the book offer recipes for breads from both the author and illustrator’s cultures. Cristina Quintero is first-generation Canadian Colombian, and she provides a recipe for Arepas, a staple bread in Latin America. The illustrator, Sarah Gonzales, is Filipino-Canadian, and she offers her tita’s (aunty’s) recipe for Pandesal, a yeasted bread roll often stuffed with fillings traditional for Filipino cooking. I am of neither Italian nor Jewish heritage, but I frequently bake both Challah and Focaccia, and love them both. As a proud Ukrainian Canadian, bread-baking is a culinary gift of my heritage, and I enjoy learning about and baking breads from other cultures.

The Only Way to Make Bread is as appealing as a warm, freshly baked loaf of bread. Sarah Gonzales’ illustrations are rendered in soft pencil crayon-like drawings, and, on the front and back covers, she shows the joy of baking, with kids stirring and pouring ingredients while others pull apart hot-cross buns and tear chunks out of a crusty artisanal loaf. Throughout the story, we see plenty of smiles on the faces of everyone in this kitchen community. The kids learn to mix, knead, roll, and shape bread dough from the grown-ups who take charge of frying, baking, or steaming the bread. The dogs are happy, and even the cat doesn’t look grumpy!

Though Tundra Books suggests a readership of ages 3 through 7 for The Only Way to Make Bread, I think that preschoolers might not be highly involved in the actual process of bread making. As the story is read to them, they’d enjoy seeing other little folks in the kitchen, and kids aged 5 to 7 can certainly see themselves stirring mixes, poking dimples into a focaccia-in-progress, and helping to carry bread to the table. How can early years teachers use this book? This is a book about culinary diversity and cultural sharing. It reminds us that, although we are all individuals from different cultures, we all love bread. Even those who choose to eat gluten-free still want to have bread. Bread making is a very tactile experience, and little kids love to poke, knead, and squish. This book also encourages kids to be kitchen helpers for the adults in their lives, whether they are parents, grandparents, aunties or uncles. And, if the adults only get their bread from the grocery store, it’s time for them to find a simple recipe, put on an apron, buy some flour and yeast, and get baking! It’s the only way to learn how to make bread.