Huichica Schoolhouse
For nearly sixty years, the old two-room schoolhouse was much more than a building to me and my family. It was the place where we gathered, celebrated, ate, played, laughed, learned, and sometimes said goodbye.
For three generations, the Schoolhouse was at the heart of our family life.
THE BEGINNING · 1911
A little schoolhouse in Vineburg
Its story began long before it became ours.
Built in 1911 in Vineburg, California, the Huichica Schoolhouse served the children of the surrounding farming community. Among those children were my grandfather, Edmund Bacher Jr., and his two older brothers.
Years later, my father, Joseph Bacher, would attend the same schoolhouse until 1957, when he transferred to the Catholic school in town.
For decades, it was simply the neighborhood schoolhouse. But in 1965, its future became uncertain.
THE $250 SCHOOLHOUSE · 1965
One bid changed everything.
The City of Sonoma was making improvements to Highway 12, and the old schoolhouse stood directly in the path of the new highway. No longer in use as a school, the building was put up for auction.
My grandfather, Edmund, wasn't about to let it disappear.
He placed the only bid: $250.
And with that, the little schoolhouse began its second life.
It was moved to my grandfather's property, which sat alongside the newly improved highway, and there it remains. What had once been a place where local farm children gathered to learn became something entirely different: a gathering place for the Bacher family.
THE FAMILY SCHOOLHOUSE · 1965–2024
Where everyone gathered.
For almost six decades, the Schoolhouse witnessed the milestones of three generations.
Christmases, Easters, Thanksgivings, birthdays, graduations, baby showers, and weddings were celebrated within its walls. It was the place we went when there was something important to celebrate, but also simply when there was nowhere else we'd rather be together.
I spent many summers rummaging through old boxes, drawing on the original chalkboards, and hiding under tables while watching my grandmother and great-grandmother speak in Italian and can the fruits and vegetables my grandfather grew. As a child, I also lived there for a time while my parents built their own house just down the road.
There were tables set out for anyone who needed a meal and a door that was always open to someone who needed a place to go, especially at Christmas.
The rooms echoed with laughter, conversation, and the occasional heated competition around the pool and ping-pong tables. Some games were friendly. Others were decidedly not.
Every Christmas Eve, the kitchen came alive with the traditions of our Italian family, including the Feast of the Seven Fishes. Christmas, as a child, was Christmas Eve at the Schoolhouse. As a large Italian and Swiss family, holidays were loud and warm, and anyone was welcome.
The Schoolhouse wasn't just where we ate dinner. It was where generations of our family learned what it meant to carry traditions forward.
My brother remembers those Christmas Eves this way:
“It was pure excitement the morning of Christmas Eve, knowing how it would unfold over at the Schoolhouse. The gathering of all our friends and family, the board games, table games, card games. The huge heater in the corner above the bar rattling and chugging out warm air, filling the space. The card table set up next to the tree filled with pies and cookies. Way more pies and cookies than we could possibly handle in one evening.”
The building itself may have been old, and its original history may remain largely unknown even to the people who live in the area today. But to our family, the Schoolhouse has a history that could never be measured by dates, records, or architectural significance.
Its history was us.
From 1965 until 2024, generation after generation walked through those doors. Children grew up, families grew larger, marriages began, babies were welcomed, and loved ones were remembered. My own children, a fourth generation, have their own small memories of the Schoolhouse.
The walls held decades of stories. Some that everyone remembers, some that only one person remembers, and some that have probably been lost to time.
That is what makes the Schoolhouse so special.
It wasn't simply a place where our family gathered.
It was part of our family.
A NEW CHAPTER · 2026
From the Schoolhouse to Snoqualmie
For me, the center of the Schoolhouse was my grandmother.
I spent much of my childhood at her house, with free rein of the Schoolhouse and the Bacher ranch that surrounded it. I watched her and my great-grandmother in the kitchen, preserving what my grandfather grew and preparing food that would eventually find its way to a table surrounded by family.
My grandmother became my connection to food. That connection eventually led me to culinary school and, years later, to creating Schoolhouse Bake Shop.
The Schoolhouse taught me that food was about more than what was on the table. It was about the people gathered around it. It was how traditions were shared, how people were welcomed, and how ordinary days became memories.
Schoolhouse Bake Shop is a new chapter in that story.
From our home in Snoqualmie, Washington, I hope to carry forward a little of what the Schoolhouse gave our family for generations: something homemade on the table, a reason to gather, and traditions worth passing along.
Welcome to Schoolhouse Bake Shop.
