The Mindful Baker

Somewhere along the way, we managed to make wellbeing stressful. Which, when you think about it, is quite an achievement. Mindfulness was supposed to help us stop striving quite so much. It was supposed to teach us to notice our lives rather than constantly judge them. To breathe. To pay attention. To accept that not every moment needs improving, measuring, optimising or turning into a personal development project. And then we got hold of it. Now we have mindfulness apps. Med

We have become deeply suspicious of anything that takes time. If a business has not taken off within a year, we assume the idea must be wrong. If a fitness plan has not transformed our body within six weeks, we lose interest. If a child is not reading, sleeping, speaking or behaving according to some imaginary timetable, we worry that something has gone awry. We plant a garden in spring and feel vaguely cheated when it does not resemble Chelsea Flower Show by June. We have be

There’s something slightly ironic about the fact that sourdough becomes wildly popular every winter. The clocks go back. It gets dark at 4pm. Everyone suddenly remembers they own an oven. Social media fills with people posting photos of vaguely circular loaves that look somewhere between artisan bread and a geological event. And thousands of people decide this is finally the year they’re going to “master sourdough.” Which is brilliant. Except winter is actually one of the har

Let’s start with the image. You’ve got a lump of sourdough sitting there, looking like it’s just found out its mortgage has gone up, its dog’s run away, and someone’s just told it gluten is bad for you. It’s slumped. Deflated. Slightly offended by life. If dough could sigh, this one would be doing it loudly. And yet… this is exactly where the magic starts. Not when everything looks perfect. Not when the dough is smooth, tight, and Instagram-ready. But right here, in the messy