Yesterday, I learned how to make sourdough bread. The best part was spending 4 hours with two of my favorite people. There was me, the teacher and head bread connoisseur and my partner in crime who was as green at this as me. We had a ball. I can’t help but think this morning how much we’ve lost over time by not making bread together. This, of course, is a tiny, isolated example but it goes much wider. Bread, and making it daily, used to be a part of life and family ritual. Do we even have family rituals anymore? Do we even have time to tend to dough? To stop every hour and fold it and smell it? To put on another pot of coffee to SIT at the table and talk with friends while we wait? Do we even sit at the table anymore?