19/04/2026
I keep my bread standing on its end, on my island inside a glass dome.
Most people think that’s odd.
But it takes me straight back to my aunty’s kitchen, where her sandwich loaf was always cut upright, sliced slowly with a flat knife, as if it had all the time in the world.
And perhaps that’s the point.
We’ve rushed food so much that we’ve lost the rhythm of it.
Bread used to be central. Visible. Made properly. Shared without thinking.
Now it’s often plastic-wrapped and forgotten.
So I bake.
A simple sandwich loaf for the week. A sourdough for the weekend.
Nothing complicated. Just flour, water, time and a bit of patience.
This week’s Heart & Thyme letter is all about that rhythm, and the small kitchen memories that never really leave us.
With both recipes included. Check out at
heartthyme.substack.com.