Choosing Faith Over Fear in the Kitchen
Back to the Classroom at 65
I never imagined I would find myself back in the classroom at 65.
And yet, here I am.
Not sitting at a desk with notebooks and pencils, but standing in my kitchen with flour on my hands, a starter on the counter, and pages of notes scattered around me like a student preparing for an exam.
This week has felt like studying.
Studying the process.
Studying the timing.
Studying the rhythm of something much bigger than a single loaf.
As I prepare for my first farmers market, I find myself learning in a new way. Not from textbooks, but from other bakers who have walked this path before me. People who have shared their knowledge generously, offering guidance on everything from feeding a starter to managing a full bake schedule.
And I’ve realized something.
This is not just about learning how to bake more bread.
It is about learning how to trust a process at a new scale.
Learning the Rhythm
There is a rhythm to baking for a market that feels very different from baking for my kitchen or my neighbors.
I am learning to think in days instead of hours.
Feed the starter heavily one to two days before mixing, so it is strong and ready.
Mix the dough and allow it to rise slowly.
Shape the loaves and place them into baskets.
Then comes the part that feels almost counterintuitive at first.
Wait.
Let the dough rest in the refrigerator for twelve to twenty-four hours. A cold, quiet pause that develops flavor and gives structure, while also giving the baker space to breathe.
Then, on baking day, the loaves go straight from the cold into the heat of the oven.
No rushing.
No overthinking.
Just trust in what has already been prepared.
It feels familiar.
Very much like life.
From One Loaf to Many
Until now, most of my baking has been one loaf at a time. A slower, more intimate rhythm.
Now I am learning to think in batches.
Mixing multiple loaves in one container.
Shaping with intention so each loaf is consistent.
Using a dough scraper not just as a tool, but as a way of creating steadiness and uniformity.
There is something humbling about this part.
It is no longer just about creating one beautiful loaf. It is about showing up with consistency, with care, and with enough to serve a community.
And yet, the heart of it remains the same.
Flour.
Water.
Salt.
Time.
The Practical Meets the Personal
There are so many practical details I am learning.
How long to let bread cool before packaging so the crust stays crisp.
How to bag each loaf so it can breathe.
How to create labels that help someone take that loaf home and know exactly how to enjoy it.
How many loaves to bake.
And this one made me pause.
Every experienced baker seems to say the same thing.
Do not bake too many your first day.
It is better to sell out than to carry bread home.
There is wisdom in that.
Not just for baking, but for life.
We are not meant to overextend ourselves in the beginning. We are meant to grow into what we are building, one step at a time.
Trusting What Is Being Built
As I sit here, preparing for May 9th, I can feel both excitement and uncertainty.
There are still questions.
There are still things I do not know.
But I am learning to be at peace with that.
Because every step of this journey has shown me something.
When I stay present, when I do the work in front of me, when I trust the process instead of trying to control every outcome, things unfold the way they are meant to.
This week, my kitchen has become my classroom.
The lessons are not just about dough and ovens and timing.
They are about patience.
About restraint.
About trust.
About understanding that growth does not happen all at once.
It happens slowly.
Quietly.
Just like sourdough.
And just like faith.
So here I am, back in the classroom at 65.
Learning.
Listening.
Preparing.
And trusting that when the time comes, I will be ready to open my table and share what I have been given.
Warmly,
Kathy
Art of The Crumb