Really beautiful story with an inspiring and important message. If you read this be sure to Google the bakery afterwards and see how far it has come!

Both Al and Kitty are effusive about Aggie and Albert, Kitty’s patient siblings, who had to put up with their kitchen being turned into a professional bakery for a couple of years. Kitty has even named one of the Orange Bakery’s sourdough loaves after her brother. “We think he likes the fact that it’s called The Albert,” says Katie, their mum. Then she giggles: “He doesn’t really, actually.” Kitty is clearly very focussed and determined and before long their small home was filled with an industrial oven and other bread making paraphernalia with flour dust everywhere. Within a year of so Kitty and Al had opened The Orange Bakery in their village of Watlington near Oxford and one day Al realised that he was no longer a teacher but a baker.

Reviews

When I first took this book out of the library I tried some recipes and made the decision not to buy shop bought bread anymore. I make bread every day now. I made my own sourdough starter and made a loaf that tasted better than any bread I had previously eaten. I really wanted this book and managed to find a copy that wasn't too expensive. I felt disappointed that the book was half filled with 'the journey' and I didn't want this part but bought it for the recipes. The book explores the slow movement from Kitty deciding she wanted to bake a loaf of bread - to wanting to make more, and therefore being allowed to use neighbouring ovens - to giving bread away because she was making so much, leading to a subscription service, then a pop-up, and then an actual real bakery and high street shop. Well, I say slow, but it all happened over about 2 years and that's just incredible. Kitty and Al each narrate their own memories of the time when Kitty began to suffer overwhelming mental health challenges and left school. Her parents and siblings all tried to support her recovery but Kitty was very withdrawn and anxious. Her father, Al, engaged Kitty briefly in a range of activities and when bread-making was introduced, something ignited in her and she began slowly to recover. Reading the two narratives side by side in the book is very moving and although not all readers of Breadsong will be interested in this part of the book, I thought it could be very helpful to people who may find themselves in a position of such emotional distress that they stop functioning. It gives hope to carers too. I have several times come across people who have opened bakeries, who have written about their mental health struggles and how baking bread was the therapeutic act that opened their path to recovery. Kitty describes with such clarity how, once she had established her sourdough starter named Ferdinand, she simply had to turn up to feed it and take care of it, eventually taking to sleeping in the kitchen with it. This provided a simple structure to her day, a scaffolding on which she could build as her recovery progressed. Breadsong is not only a book about human suffering and recovery and the place of bread making in this process, but it is also a tribute to the support of Kitty’s family, especially her father who accompanied her on this journey. Much of the book is about baking and a career change but family life is described - the importance of Christmas, family dogs, meeting other families such as a wonderful family living in Copenhagen.

I really enjoyed Breadsong, though it certainly highlights a very particular kind of Britishness. I feel like things would have played out very differently in other parts of the country, without the opportunities encountered here. That said, this is a really uplifting and inspiring read - it was wonderful to see the village rally round the family, and to hear about a young girl discovering and developing her passion. It made me want to reach for my bread flour and immediately start experimenting! We are,” agrees Kitty, who has inherited her father’s vivid red hair and blue eyes. “We’re called the Tiny Taits.” To make the glaze, warm the water and marmalade or jam in a medium saucepan over a medium heat. Generously brush the glaze over the buns. You can hold on to any spare for later use as it will keep for several days.Serving suggestion Cut thinly, toasted and spread with a scraping of horseradish sauce, some smoked salmon and a couple of thinly sliced cornichons. It is a cookbook with the power to make you cry – or it did to me. The difficulties Kitty and her family went through, the difficulties of mental and physical health, financial worries – but bizarrely, it was the power that bread has over people that made me emotional. If you’re not a baker then you may not realise what I mean by that. I bake (unprofessionally), although not as much as I used to thanks to a Neurological condition I have developed, but I still try to when I can. Baking has always been my way of dealing with fierce emotions. When I lost my dad, I baked an absurd amount of cakes and biscuits for the hospice staff; I bake (and eat) when I’m stressed, when I’m sat, when I’m bored, when I’m happy. It’s just my moment to completely forget about everything else and the joy you get seeing someone enjoy what you’ve made is priceless. And to see that written down on paper was what made me cry. I think it’s a testament to the recipe writing that the first one I chose to make was The Comfort Loaf – a white bread with marmite in. Considering I cannot stand marmite – like, I dislike it with a passion – this is quite the credit. Marmite is still not my thing – and I did have issues getting the bread out of the tin (my mistake) – just the smell of it coming out of the oven made me smile.