Micro-Bakeries Offer Bread That's Truly Fresh

A CRACKLING CRUST and a moist crumb. A deep, earthy, wheaty flavor. The ineffable complexity of natural fermentation, its whiff of alcohol, its merest hint of natural sugar. True artisanal bread, made with wholesome ingredients and passionate craftsmanship and available fresh, locally, is easily one of life's great pleasures. Yet even amid the nationwide embrace of all that is authentic and healthful in food, it's been hard to come by. We can read about famed bread makers in Berkeley, Calif., or New York City, but what good does that do for the rest of the country? Most bread doesn't ship well. And the best bakeries rarely franchise

Yet quietly, just in the last year or two, there's been a subtle revolution in American bread. Around the country, in Phoenix and New Orleans, Tulsa and Portland, Asheville and Austin, and cities throughout Ohio, Connecticut and Utah, tiny bakeries are cropping up. The bakers are self-taught: Most of them got started by reading books by master bakers like Peter Reinhart or Nancy Silverton, and gleaning tips online. They sell at farmers' markets, on local food websites or to nearby shops and restaurants. Many operate out of their residences, under new laws that allow them to sell food made in home kitchens.

 

Mark Stambler, 60, who hand-kneads whole-grain bâtards (shorter, wider baguettes) and sourdough rye boules at his home in L.A., exemplifies how these microbakers are putting pressure on legislators to greenlight this homespun mode of production. A few years ago, the non-profit consultant began selling the naturally fermented breads—made with freshly milled flour and baked in his backyard oven—to a few local shops. Two years ago, the health department caught on and shut him down. He lobbied for a change in the law, in the process helping to form Los Angeles Bread Bakers, a meet-up group for serious amateurs, and successfully shepherded California's first Cottage Food law into being in January of this year.

Such laws are now on the books in more than 30 states—about twice the number there were five years ago, according to the Sustainable Economies Law Center, a non-profit legal-aid and advocacy group. The laws vary widely in detail, but nearly always allow bread baking in a home kitchen that passes inspection. "Now, it's back to business," Mr. Stambler said.

In addition to the changing legal landscape, microbakers are aided by the proliferation of farmers' markets and by new websites such as Good Eggs, an online local-food grocer where Mr. Stambler now sells his bread. Started two years ago in San Francisco, the site expanded this year into New York, New Orleans and L.A.

 

Social media is also juicing the movement. Jason Raducha, 29, launched a Kickstarter campaign last year to seek funds for a home bakery. The former IT consultant raised just over $20,000, which allowed him to commission the 10,000-pound, mobile, wood-fired bread oven now parked in his garage in Phoenix. Like many microbakers, he markets his Noble Bread via a Facebook page, with images of crusty, golden loaves as they emerge from the oven and alerts regarding which farmers' market the bread is heading to that day. "I'm up all night, I bake, I put the bread in the customer's hand," Mr. Raducha said of his new life. "I'm the happiest I've ever been."

Microbakers are encouraging the next step in American bread, too, by seeking out unique strains of grain and doing the milling themselves, using processes that allow oils in the grain to permeate the flour with flavor and aroma. David Bauer, whose bakery, Farm & Sparrow, is attached to his home in the Asheville, N.C., area, grows seed plots of heritage grain—Turkey Red wheat, Wren's Abruzzi rye—then gives the seeds to local farmers to grow for him. "We mill our own flour no more than 24 hours before we make the bread," Mr. Bauer said. Fresh milling is catching on: Newly opened Tabor Bread in Portland, Ore., and Josey Baker Bread in San Francisco have also invested in mills.

 

Some bakers are graduating to larger businesses with wider reach. Five years ago, Graison S. Gill, 25, "got to New Orleans on the Greyhound bus with 20 dollars on me." He read up on baking in the public library, then began selling his experiments at the farmers' market. Realizing there was more to learn, he enrolled in the San Francisco Baking Institute in 2011 and apprenticed with great Bay Area bakers. Today, Mr. Gill is back in town making 1,000 handmade loaves a week; his crusty bread is so full of character it would pair well with a rich wine—with or without cheese. He just hired two new bakers in anticipation of a busy fall.

"There is a great need and desire down here for the style of bread that I'm doing," he said. "It's part of a bigger trend." The same could be said of practically everywhere—which is why microbakers, like their handcrafted breads, will only continue to rise.