When my oldest daughter started kindergarten, I signed up to be a classroom parent. The school was small, public and in ethnically diverse Jersey City, which meant my daughter shared crayons with kids whose families came from all over the world. When it came time to plan the holiday party, the principal requested that it celebrate the season, but without any specific religious or cultural overtones. No Santa. No menorahs. Just joy.
We could’ve just thrown a “Frozen”-themed bash, and the kids would have been thrilled, but I wanted to do something with a bit more substance. (And frankly, I’d had enough of Anna and Elsa.) I’m embarrassed to admit that it took the internet to remind me of the obvious choice: Winter Solstice, the first day of winter and the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere.
Known as Saturnalia to the ancient Romans and Dong Zhi to the Chinese, “the return of the sun” has been celebrated by people from all over the world since ancient times. Many modern-day Christmas rituals, like decorating trees and burning yule logs, are derived from Winter Solstice traditions.
But I couldn’t walk into a roomful of five-year olds blathering on about primordial solstice rituals. I needed a lighthearted and more engaging way to introduce the idea. Pinterest led me to “Sun Bread” by Elisa Kleven (Puffin Books, 2001), a lushly illustrated children’s book about a plucky but lonely canine baker who finds herself in the midst of a dreary winter and resolves to bake her way out of it.
Bare trees shook like chilly bones.
Children grumbled in their homes.
Birds and beasts all wished the sun
Would show its golden face again.
The baker makes her “own small sun inside,” a golden loaf in the shape of the sun. The warmth of the baking bread, and the act of sharing it, lures her animal friends out of their homes — and into hers — to celebrate.
Bread so brilliant, bright and sunny.
Summer seemed to fill their tummies.
Bread so fluffy and so fine,
They felt themselves begin to shine …
The animals’ dancing and joy awakens the real sun:
It burst out through the lumpy clouds
And streamed down on the startled crowd.
“The sun is here!” They gave a cheer.
The animals share their bread with the sun by tossing pieces into the sky. In turn, the sun melts away the snow, feeding the plants and giving rise to flowers, rainbows and eventually, beautifully, spring.
Recipe: Sun Bread
At the end of the book, there is a recipe for the sun bread that I made and brought to the party — a sun-shaped loaf with swirls for rays and a smiling face shaped out of bits of dough. While my daughter and her classmates nibbled on butter-slathered bits, I read the book aloud. We talked about the first day of winter and what we were looking forward to during the holiday break — sledding, skating, snowman-building — then we made lanterns out of colored tissue paper and battery-powered votive candles for them to put on their windowsill at bedtime to represent the sun on the longest night. We also played the “Frozen” soundtrack.
That daughter is now 12, and give or take a missed year or two, we’ve made that bread every solstice since. With Ms. Kleven’s permission and encouragement, I’ve tweaked the recipe a bit — I cut the yeast in half, added salt and reduced the baking temperature — which yields a softer, squishier and more flavorful interior with a less crunchy exterior.
The post The Winter Solstice Is Upon Us. Here Comes the Sun Bread. appeared first on New York Times.
