One of my favourite things about homeschool is the freedom it gives us to slow down, dig deeper, and truly experience what we are learning. Instead of just reading about history, we can taste it, smell it, and sometimes even wrinkle our noses at it. That was very much the case when we decided to try making a prairie loaf as part of our Little House on the Prairie Unit Study.
Making a Prairie Loaf During Our Little House on the Prairie Unit Study
If you’ve read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s books, you’ll know that food plays a surprisingly large role in the stories. From salt pork and cornbread to maple syrup and hard-earned treats, meals were simple, filling, and closely tied to the rhythms of pioneer life. One thing the Ingalls family didn’t have, however, was the convenience of shop-bought dried yeast — something most of us take completely for granted today.
Instead, families like Laura’s relied on wild yeast to leaven their bread, producing what we now call sourdough. So, armed with flour, water, curious children, and perhaps a slightly questionable sense of adventure, we decided to give it a go ourselves.
Bread Before Packets and Supermarkets
Before the invention of commercial yeast, bread making depended on what nature provided. Wild yeast — a single-celled fungus — floats invisibly in the air all around us. When flour and water are mixed together and left exposed (but protected), these yeasts settle into the mixture, feed on the starches in the flour, and begin to ferment.
This is how prairie loaves were traditionally made, and it’s exactly how Laura Ingalls’ family would have done it. As part of our Little House on the Prairie Unit Study, this felt like a perfect hands-on activity that combined history, science, and practical life skills — all rolled into one slightly smelly jar on the kitchen counter.
The Science Behind Making a Prairie Loaf
Homeschooling gives us the opportunity to pause and explore why things work, not just how. Making a prairie loaf turned out to be a wonderful practical science lesson.
When wild yeast lands in the flour-and-water mixture, it begins to break down the starches in the wheat flour into sugars. As the yeast feeds on these sugars, it produces carbon dioxide and alcohol. This process is known as fermentation, and it’s what allows bread to rise.
The basic chemical reaction looks like this:
C₆H₁₂O₆ (glucose) → 2 C₂H₅OH (ethanol) + 2 CO₂ (carbon dioxide)
The carbon dioxide gets trapped inside the dough, creating the tiny air pockets we see in bread. Gluten — formed from two proteins called gliadin and glutenin — plays a key role here. When dough is kneaded, these proteins form long, stretchy chains that trap the gas and allow the bread to rise.
It’s one thing to read about this in a textbook. It’s quite another to watch bubbles forming in a jar on your own kitchen counter while your children peer in with fascination (and occasional suspicion).
Thomas has also made a ladder from bits and pieces we had around our home. Click here if you’d like to read how he did this! and if you’d like to see how he made some hooks to hang the girls’ nightdresses on in our own little house, click here.
Creating Our Sourdough Starter
To begin making a prairie loaf, we first needed a sourdough starter — the living culture that keeps the yeast alive.
We mixed:
- 2 cups of flour
- 2 cups of water
After giving it a good stir, we covered the container with a loosely woven knitted cloth (C10’s handiwork) and placed it in a warm spot in the kitchen. The cloth allowed air — and therefore yeast — to enter, while keeping insects and dust out.
Yeast is present in the air all year round, so we hoped that some discerning little yeast cells would find their way into our mixture and decide to settle down.
To our surprise, small bubbles appeared almost immediately. By the next day, the mixture was actively fermenting and had developed a frothy head. It was alive!
Why It Didn’t Turn Into a Science Horror Story
At this point, I’ll admit I was keeping a close eye on it. The mixture didn’t smell good, but it also didn’t look mouldy or dangerous — and there are two reassuring reasons for that:
- Wheat starch isn’t very friendly to most bacteria
- The alcohol produced by the yeast creates an environment that discourages harmful bacteria
In other words, the yeast was busy defending its territory.
Each day, we “fed” the starter by discarding half of it and adding another cup of flour and a cup of water. Whenever a liquid layer (known as hooch) appeared on top, we stirred it back in.
By day three, the kitchen had developed what I can only describe as a robust aroma. The children were deeply unimpressed. Gary remained blissfully unaware, assuming it was just another homeschool experiment.
Living With a Jar of Fermentation
By day four, the smell had intensified. Strong, bready, alcohol-like — and frankly a bit yucky. The children were not convinced that this was ever going to turn into something edible. Pegs on noses were considered.
Technically, the starter should mature for about five days before being used, eventually becoming a thick, yellowish liquid. We made it to day four.
That smell was everywhere.
So, 24 hours short of the ideal, we decided it was time to bake.
Making the Actual Prairie Loaf
I’ve been making bread for years, and I rarely measure anything. So instead of following a formal recipe, I simply mixed about one cup of the sourdough starter into flour until it formed a workable dough. In hindsight, it was probably far too much starter — but at that point, my priority was removing the bubbling mass from the kitchen.
I rubbed in some lard (rather than butter), staying true to the Little House on the Prairie Unit Study, as that’s what Laura’s family would have used.
After kneading the dough, we shaped a small loaf and set it aside to rise — outside, for everyone’s peace of mind.
To my surprise, it rose quite well. Hope returned.
Baking and Bracing Ourselves
Once risen, we baked the loaf at 200°C for around 15–20 minutes. This is my tried-and-true “lazy person’s” bread method, and it’s served me well over the years.
The smell while baking was… not encouraging. Definitely too much starter.
But when it came out of the oven, it looked beautiful. Golden, crusty, and every bit like a proper loaf of bread.
You’d think that would inspire confidence.
It did not.
Tasting History
Very few of the children volunteered to try it. I displayed what I hoped was convincing enthusiasm and reminded them that this was for educational purposes.
We served the bread hot, with maple syrup — another lovely tie-in to our Little House on the Prairie Unit Study.
And then… it vanished.
Our Verdict
Personally, I wasn’t overly keen. The sourdough had a strong acidic flavour, which was expected, and the texture was much like our usual wholemeal bread. The smell, thankfully, mellowed once baked.
The children, however, absolutely loved it. They went back for more, clearly pleased with both the taste and the accomplishment of having made it themselves.
Gary never got to try any — the loaf was gone before I could save him a slice. I suspect he may not be too disappointed.
If you have little children, there are Little House Books for Younger Readers which have beautiful illustrations with a very shortened version of the regular Little House books.
Why This Matters in Our Homeschool
This experience reminded me why understand homeschooling in this way. Making a prairie loaf wasn’t just a cooking project — it was history, chemistry, biology, and life skills all wrapped into one memorable activity.
As part of our Little House on the Prairie Unit Study, it helped the children understand pioneer life in a tangible way. They didn’t just read about how Laura’s family lived — they lived a small part of it themselves.
And honestly? Even with the smell, I’d do it again.
For more activities please do visit my MEGA Little House on the Prairie Unit Study page, which contains all ten weeks of our summer building our own Little House on the Prairie!
Discover more from ANGELICSCALLIWAGS
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.