there are no words.

For some things, there are no words. Which is to say, words just don’t do them justice. How could they?

My mother once took my sister and about a dozen of her pre-teen friends to a miniature golf course. Forget the mini golf for a minute and imagine that minivan ride. She once took a few of my friends to a school field trip destination and had to listen to us belting out a Pointer Sisters song, at the top of our pitchy voices, over and over again. To this day, I bet she still feels that misery hearing the words, “I’m so excited”. But I digress.

Mini golf.

It was my sister’s birthday and my mother, despite raising two girls (with all the lovely challenges that included), was nothing if not eternal mother of the year. Seriously, when I think back on it, she should have a wall of trophies. She loaded up this group of girls, drove them to a park full of mini windmills, flamboyant dragons, and bridges over tiny waterways. You know, the kind of place that is the overall size of a big parking lot, but takes seemingly endless hours to walk through? Especially with a group of overly squeeling, sugar-fueled girls.

As I’m writing this, I’m realizing there are so many similarities between that and a coffee infused trip to Costco as an adult. Huh.

I can’t remember how many trap-door-ending plastic turf paths she walked this group of girls through, chasing rogue balls and waiting for repeated tries to beat the windmill blades. However, golf was cut short. The thing about being young is, you sometimes have a dangerous combination of ambitious ideas and being totally unaware of your surroundings. That day, it resulted in one girl taking a PGA worthy backswing… right into my Mother’s nose.

I’ve heard my mother say, on more than one occasion, that no good deed goes unpunished. Life happens, and sometimes it hurts. Over the course of our lives, we all try to give so much for those we care about. But a mother’s love? That’s beyond measure. This probably crazy, but never failing to give us an amazing childhood woman, continues to go above and beyond. Year after year, memory after memory, purple heart deserving parenting. Persevering through all the turmoiled periods of raising us and helping us turn into (mostly functional) full grown people.

It's true. How incredibly fortunate are we that a mother’s love is greater than the pain of broken body parts? There aren’t many loves in life that stand by you through your absolute worst, forsaking sleep and worrying endlessly from birth to youthful indiscretions through trying to navigate adulthood. No matter how many scars the journey and effort brings, none of us would be everything we are without it.

For what it’s worth, I’ve never noticed a single scar on my Mom. In my view they never stood out. But everyday I look at a picture of her and I doing dishes, when I had to stand on a step stool to reach the sink, and remember the endless good memories. The incredible things she did, and does, in caring. And I think about how lucky I am. This woman loves us so much, she would probably still ride in a car with me shrieking, “I’m so excited, and I just can’t hide it”. The great part of being raised by a mother who is always caring is, it sticks. So, I probably won’t.

Probably.

Happy Mother’s Day week to all the great moms out there. We would be recklessly throwing golf clubs through our lives without you, and we love you for being the always good in our course.

After the last pastry of the week is baked.

Moments after Mr. Amazing flipped the closed sign on the door this afternoon, I was falling asleep where I stood. I almost wish he had taken a video of it, because it had to have been worth a good laugh. Me, standing over the lamination table, covered in a day's worth of flour with cleaning rag in hand, barely realizing I had nodded off. I was standing up by sheer luck.

I'm quite sure there are a zillion cartoon moments depicting someone in that very state, falling into a big mess. Sometimes, behind the scenes, its slap stick comedy over here. Especially by Saturday afternoons. The great news is, there is absolutely nothing like the sleep we get after a week of pushing our boundaries baking.

As I'm wrapping up this long day and closing the 1871 kitchen for the week, I just want to take a moment to thank you all. I didn't get a chance to warn you that our reservation board (and our equipment capacity and time in the day) was overfilled. We watched the board stack up this week, at an unprecedented rate, and decided we were going to do everything we possibly could to keep up. After all, how do you really know how much two people making small batch bread and pastries, by hand, can really do? You try.

Days like this make us better and stronger, and we love them.

By the time we did our counts and baking schedule last night, we were well over 200 pieces of pastry reserved for Saturday alone. Add bread and our commitment to at least double the reserved quantities for the cases and, well, you can do that math (or watch the comedy of the baker falling asleep standing up).

While we didn't quite meet our ambitions (there are still two small batches of dough I didn't get into lamination, sitting with unfulfilled destinies in the cooler), we gave it everything we had. We came astonishingly close to our regular time schedule for bakes, filled reservations as quickly as we could, and sold goodies to wonderful walk-in smiles faster than we could fill trays. When our time and efforts were spent, we were down to crumbs by 11:00 am. We're so very sorry that we still sold out early.

We did learn a lot today, as we do most, about how to grow faster and stronger without compromising our quality promises to you. We still won't waver on the quality of our small batch processes, or baking fresh every day. Instead, we will celebrate our growth and work to overcome the found limitations. Day after day, we will be ever more grateful for your support and smiles.

I think you're all making me a better baker than I ever imagined possible ❤.

We may be exhausted, but we're the happiest exhausted people in the world, and feeling so very thankful for every one of you.

Thank you for being part of our incredible week, and our bakery dream.

We bloom where we grow.

Or, maybe in our case, we proof where we’re shaped. That’s the funny thing about life’s journey. We all go through so many of the same types of experiences, from dreaming to feeling overwhelmingly challenged, just in different gardens (or, kitchens).

A few days ago I was chatting with the incredible founder of Pots of Peace, as she was helping me finalize the locations of each and every beautiful new landscape plant making 1871 more lively.  I’m one of those people who just loves a story. I adore hearing about the adventures, trials and graces that have led people to the place they are. Like so many small businesses, it turns out hers is born from passion, inspired by hope, and driven by faith.

The whole conversation began when she stopped arranging flowers and seemingly randomly asked if I drank coffee. I assumed we were about to talk about an incredible new brew, bean or roaster, as she had likely seen the bags of coffee in The Bakery. Instead, I was caught with an unexpected chuckle when realizing she wanted to know where my energy came from. As someone who actually doesn’t drink coffee, that thought hadn’t crossed my mind.  And as someone who always feels exhausted (and is terrified I’m sporting the bags to show it), I found the whole question incredibly funny. Kind of like when my husband is occasionally carded buying a beer at his well-over-21-year-old age (sorry, love).

For a while after, we forgot about the all-important flower placements and shared stories of our budding dreams (sometimes called small businesses, at least ours would be if it ran like any other).  We talked about the circumstances that arose, paving a path neither of us could ignore. We chatted about the excitement, and sometimes fear and questioning, that following your dreams creates. And, while I found my purpose in dough and she in a garden, it was wonderful to share similarities and find support with someone else being guided by a purpose, never knowing what tomorrow would bring, but trusting in faith. About an hour later when we realized we chatted so long that we ran out of time to plant a single plant, she asked me one more question, “how did you get here, starting a bakery?”  

In what feels like the longest and shortest year of my life, I think I lost sight of how I ended up here. Standing in the former dining room of a 152 year old historic house, filling cases with bread and pastry, and quietly celebrating every time someone walks in our front door. I think I had lost sight of many things in the chaos, trials, and sleepless nights created in my crazy dream. This woman, who came here to transform our landscaping, ended up having a stunning impact on me, and my dreams, probably when I needed it most. When I was exhausted, feeling more than a little overwhelmed, and questioning our path. All just by asking one question.

I have loved bread from the moment I had my very first bite. I mean, seriously, if there was bread nearby, I would fill up on it and never be able to finish my dinner. A reality that drove my mother crazy.  I don’t recall a single night growing up where she didn’t fill our dinner plates with a perfectly healthy, balanced (and assumingly delicious, I woudn’t know- I was eating bread) homemade meal. All to end in telling me that I couldn’t leave the table if I didn’t finish the meat and veggies on my plate. I think she actually feared, quite regularly, that I was going to stunt my growth from malnutrition. Who could live on bread alone?  To be fair, I am only 5’2” on a good day. But I still blame my lack of height and reach solely on her genetics.

So, I suppose it would be obvious that someday I would love baking bread. And, even in my occasional quiet thoughts, dream of opening a bakery. However, for many years, I took any path but that. Each path, being a long story in it’s own right but, somehow, still led me to a day when my husband and I were standing in the foyer of an old house. A house we bought site unseen. On faith. I am still not sure we knew why we did it. But there we were, exactly where we were supposed to be. At least that’s how it felt when it’s old walls embraced us and opened doors we never expected. The rest, well it’s a path that we had no choice but to follow. 

Mr. Amazing and I still have full time day jobs. Yes, everyday I threaten to quit mine while thinking about how wonderful life could be. I imagine spending all day shaping bread and pastry. However, the reality is, we never decided to open a bakery. Much less plan for it. Almost a year and a half ago my day job was slow and, as a perpetually self-employed person, I don’t do idle well. So, I asked Mr. Amazing if I should bake a tart and offer it to people for Thanksgiving.  In the vein of many famous last words, he said, “sure”.  So, I made a pumpkin and mascarpone custard and filled a homemade butter tart crust. Then I did my very best to fumble through photographing it and posted it on a brand-spanking new Facebook page I named 1871 Bakehouse. 1871 was Mr. Amazing’s idea, a tribute to the house we loved more every day. In a little research of lifestyles from all those years ago, a bakehouse seemed like everything I wanted for this house and community.  For reasons I am still dumbfounded to comprehend, a very kind woman messaged and ordered a pumpkin tart for her Thanksgiving table.  Making that tart, terrified of anything and everything that could go wrong, I tried to convince myself this was a one-time thing. Something to keep me busy in a new place, during one of our first holiday seasons without family. However, as I dipped my tasting spoon into the custard, every fear left my mind. Every terrified emotion I had turned to joy. I could not wait to share the tart. I was ecstatic to hand this woman, so willing to take a holiday table risk on someone she had never met, something I made just for her.

As it turned out, she came down with the flu the morning of Thanksgiving. A few days later she messaged again and told me that she sent the tart with her daughter, to a friend’s Thanksgiving, while she spent the day in bed. She was worried it would go to waste. But, sometimes, our lives take a path we could never understand without a little hindsight.

That pumpkin tart ended up on the dessert plate of someone who was never a fan of pumpkin, and it somehow delighted her. Enough so, that she shared it with another friend. A few days later a local shop messaged the 1871 Bakehouse and asked if I would like to do a pop up for Small Business Saturday. I cannot emphasize this next part enough; I had no idea what a pop up was. Not a clue.  The very nice message from Synergy Herbal Works explained, and even offered to let us use their table. So, Mr. Amazing and I stayed up all night, baking to the best of our ability. Which, if I’m being honest, was pretty unimpressive in quantity. I was, at best, a good home baker with a crazy notion that everything had to be baked that morning. A feat I was definitely not prepared for. I had so many butterflies in my stomach as we set our few baked goods on the lovely white tablecloth, hoping someone would want to buy a baked good. Then something unimaginable happened. A woman walked into the shop, turned the corner towards us, and stopped in her tracks. Her face lit up, and I could actually feel her excitement. I could never have seen her words coming (and will never, ever forget), “1871! I can’t believe you’re here! I saw your Facebook pictures and couldn’t figure out how to find your desserts! They look amazing!” All I could think, over and over again, was, how does this woman know our week old, not-a-real-bakery name???

For days, weeks, months and now, almost a year and a half, the little community of Sparta keeps coming. We never advertise, but you find us. We opened in the foyer of an old house, setting a few loaves and pastries on a table, and you came to our porch. Even though it was weird and confusing, at first. Then one day that little table wasn’t big enough, and we looked at each other and realized, we were growing.  We pushed my great grandmother’s holiday dinner table into another room and Mr. Amazing built make-shift cases, that I did my very best to fill. Falling short almost daily. Despite every odd and unforeseen challenge, here we are. Still baking. Still growing.

Yes, I love baking (and definitely eating) bread and pastry. But this little dream, which became The Bakery at 1871, didn’t get here because of that. The Bakery at 1871, and my quiet dream, is here because of you all. Every new person who takes a risk on reserving an item because we’ve sold out (again). Every returning person who comes by weekly and tells a friend. Every person who walks in our door and says, “I’m so glad you’re here”.  The amazing community of Sparta is building The Bakery at 1871, bit by bit. One new friend at a time.

So, for every one of you, Mr. Amazing and I will keep going to our day jobs so we can buy more equipment and build out a beautiful new bakery. We will spend sleepless nights dreaming of new breads and pastries to fill menus (even when our undereye bags become suitcases).  We will wake up, every day, thrilled to bake as much as we possibly can -always fresh that morning. And we will never stop quietly celebrating every time one of you walks in our door.

This Bakery, Sparta’s bakery, is the journey we are meant to be on. In the house meant to be shared. In a community full of amazing people and small businesses who never fail to support each other. A community that welcomes, and helps sow the seeds that grow, more and more dreams. And, sometimes, when we get lost or forget our purpose, the people in our community show up and know just what to ask. Even when they may have no idea how vital they are at that moment.

Every one of us has a story. A purpose. And meaning we may never fully know in each other. While we will continue to bake bread in this old house, we know it’s so much more than that. We feel it every day. We want to be part of this community, and help more dreams grow. That’s our real promise to you, in gratitude for everything you’ve all done for us.

Just in case you’re thinking about doing a little gardening, planting spring flowers, or want a wonderful workshop to do with your kids, we highly recommend Zakiya Roberts with Pots of Peace. She has so many inspiring plans for the future, down a path I have no doubt was made for her. Trials and found purposes included.

Thank you for sharing in this old house and my tireless passion for bread. Thank you for being part of our bakery dream.

Happy menu monday!

I think the laundry basket is a gauge for how well our lives are running.

Not our careers or relationships necessarily (unless, of course, you’ve let your spouse run out of clean underwear again), but the general day-to-day effectiveness of all those little things that makes life flow.  Lately my very tall gauge of daily life flow is, well, overflowing into some kind of alarming territory. If my basket had an annoying buzzer, you might be able to hear it shrieking from your own home.

Despite walking by it regularly and thinking to myself, today I swear I’m going to load the washing machine, I’ve decided it’s okay to be human. To have a seemingly ever-growing pile of laundry covered with flour (and many other human flaws). At least for a little while. I do promise to pull my daily life together before we reach an underwear emergency.

But for now, I’m going to accept that life is a balancing act I may not always juggle with grace, and just do my best. Today, I’m going to measure improvement by getting The Bakery menu posted. On time <insert little celebration dance here>.

First, let’s talk about our (yes, Mr. Amazing is full of passion for this one too) new obsession with salted honey.  Naturally sweet organic honey and flakes of sea salt is a magical combination that just makes good things better. It was, in fact, Mr. Amazing’s discovery on his salted honey & almond scones, and I’ve stolen his brilliance for glazing our buttery, flaky croissants (and many more things coming). We’re launching straight away with it this week, on Wednesday. 

The fancy blueberry muffin makes a comeback this week, piped with a ribbon of cream cheese and sprinkled with a gently sweetened oat crumble. Why should your blueberry muffin be ordinary?

I’m so very excited to see ripe red strawberries coming into their seasonal, natural sweetness. This week’s cruffin is buttery layers of flaky dough wrapped around nutty pistachio cream and fresh organic strawberries. We’re also running them in a danish, glazed in a dreamy dark chocolate balsamic. Fresh, sweet, decadent and a bit sultry.

The herb & butter croissant returns Friday. We laminate sharp parmesan and herbs into layers of our flaky croissant, for just a hint of savory. It’s amazing on it’s own, or holding your favorite sandwich fixings. Or, even along side your dinner. Who am I kidding, they never make it that far.

Behind the scenes at 1871 I am having a love affair with filling croissants. You should see the amazing things coming (you will, actually, as each week’s menu rolls out). The first one launches this week with sweet, tart lemon curd and airy toasted meringue. An homage to the best of winter citrus meeting the bright, fresh flavors of spring.

I find it hard to believe I haven’t mentioned how much I love brie yet. I mean, it’s been over a year, and I don’t feel like I’ve adequately shared my adoration of many, many cheeses. On Saturday, we’re making our danish with whipped brie and honey drizzled walnuts. It balances sweet, savory and nutty in a way that makes my cheese-loving heart sing.

Mr. Amazing’s love of perfectly sauteed mushrooms also fills a danish this Saturday, with shards of nutty parmesan and a sprinkle of tarragon. He’s only made it for the menu once before, and it left with happy faces faster than he could fill the case.

Finally, Saturday is kouign amann day. Layers and layers and layers of dough and butter, in a decadently simple spiral that makes it’s own caramel glaze. Original and drizzled with our salted caramel & fresh organic blackberries.

So, let’s start this spring week strong, with all kinds of delicious things. And maybe a load of laundry. Maybe.

I found a stolen moment, and I am so grateful ❤

I'm cleaning the crumbs from today's cases and thinking about the returning smiles and new faces we met today. It's a year in, and I still can't believe we get to do this. It never fails to make me a little giddy. Sure there are trying days, crying days, and crazy days. But they just make the triumphant days and sweet moments feel even more amazing.

We find ourselves so incredibly blessed to be a tiny part of your day.

Today there was one lone scone in the case when I cleared the trays. The funny part about running a bakery is that it feels like there is rarely time to sit down and eat a pastry. Well, that, and we somehow never, ever have bread. So, I stole this moment and sat down. On a real chair. Which, I think, qualifies this as a real break. I put my scone on a small white plate I picked up at a dime store a few months ago, because it was from the same set my Mom had when we were growing up. Seeing it always makes me smile, like a little bit of home in my cupboard. And I took a rare bite of completed, plated pastry for the first time in as long as I can remember.

To be fair, Mr. Amazing made the scones today. Mr. "I'm not a baker" took my basic scone and did something truly inspired. It looks humble with its gently yellow crumb, and just-crispy-enough brown edges. The toasted almonds rustically tumbled on top make you think it’s a simple scone, dressed up for a casual night out. You know, like your favorite pair of blue jeans with diamond earrings. But none of this visual comfort prepared me for what happened when I put it in my mouth. This understated crumb was hiding a tender, moist almost cake-like ribbon of almond bliss. That crispy edged top was brushed with the simple sheen and sweetness of honey. And those almond slices were sharing the stage with flakes of sea salt. Pure, simple flavors done so very well. Undoubtedly my favorite kind of food. This scone may look like blue jeans, but it was made for a dance.

I don’t know that I’ve ever shared this embarrassing little note about myself, but I always do a little dance in the kitchen when flavors sing.

I haven’t told him yet, but he is going to have to run these again tomorrow. And maybe start calling himself a baker.

The Bakery at 1871 Menu 

Friday, April 5th

original artisan sourdough loaf

roasted garlic & parm artisan sourdough loaf

apple & shallot artisan sourdough loaf

lemon & poppy butter scone

salted honey & almond scone

toasted almond & fresh strawberry bun

chocolate layer cake with blackberry basil cream

almond frangipane croissant

See you soon!

Let's talk about the elephant in The Bakery.

When Mr. Amazing and I started this adventure we never, ever expected what it has become. Not in a million years.  We hoped, but had no idea our community would be so incredibly supportive of our bread and pastry. Every single day you walk through our doors is our dream coming true. We are thrilled and humbled, to say the least.

Over the past year your support and inspiration has made me a better, stronger baker. Without question. You have inspired us to explore more and more things a bakery could be, and more and more of the baker I want to be. You have made The Bakery at 1871 the incredible place it is becoming, and inspired everything that is in the works. It is all you, from the menu to the new space. And we are so very grateful you are our reason and inspiration.

However, we didn't see this elephant coming.

Each week, despite our complete lack of advertising budget and efforts, more and more people learn about us and walk through our doors. We are pushing our time and equipment well beyond their capacities, routinely. Often doubling and tripling our quantities to try and keep up. At the end of the day, right now, this Bakery is just two people struggling to give our dream everything we have. Day by day.

We, alone, run every aspect of this tiny business. From daily operations and baking, to future planning. Which is, to say, struggling to figure out how to move forward in the best way possible.  All while Mr. Amazing (who now bakes, runs front of house, and constructs the new bakery space) has a very full day job. Every moment of this craziness is what I spent 30 years dreaming about.  And it’s all provided by the willingness and strength of the most incredible man carrying me through.

That all means, no matter how hard we try, we have limitations and hurdles.

We made a promise to each other and our dream, to hold strong to our values and ideas for The Bakery.  Which means we do things differently. In a world where our values and principles are no longer the norm, we can understand many of the questions we get, operating as we do. However, we believe those things are amazing and make this bakery, and our bread and pastry, everything it is. Well worth the limitations and hurdles they sometimes create.

Nonetheless, the elephant is sometimes hard to look past.

We have a plan, and a limited budget. That’s the reality of building a small business from nothing. We don’t always have the budget to hire desperately needed help. Or buy equipment that would make things easier and faster. Mr. Amazing and I are The Bakery’s everything. It’s also the reality of growing with strength, slowly and responsibly. While some business make decisions to over leverage, finance large purchases and growth with weighty payments and interest, build on the backs of other people’s generosity and goodwill, and grow as quickly as possible; we know that can lead to weakness and failure. Businesses, like old houses and marriages, need a strong foundation. There isn’t much profit in a bakery, especially when starting out. More than anything, we want to be here for a long, long time sharing amazing bread and pastry, and being part of a strong community. One that we hope will continue to grow and build small businesses. Support more hopes and dreams, and continue to be an incredible place to call home.  So, our means and resources are limited. We have to be creative. We have to learn to be more and more efficient. And, sometimes, we have to accept that there aren’t 25 hours in a day (or 48, like we often need), and hope that our community understands. We also know that this strong growth means we will be here, providing more and more, for the little town we love. Tomorrow and for many years to come.

We bake in small, hand-crafted batches. Especially while we’re still working in the old B&B kitchen. No massive floor mixers, no rows of convection ovens, and no automated or powered dough sheeters. Our baked goods are created and rolled by our hands, in our small kitchen, with very little equipment. This limits the quantities we can make. We certainly couldn’t fill big store shelves, even if we wanted to. It means that it’s possible, especially on busy days, that people could walk in and find empty cases.  However, our process also means we get to spend hours and hours every day, hands on, honing our baking and knowledge. Feeling the dough, improving our skill, and getting better. We understand every small part of the ingredients and baking process because we’re passionate about it. Hands on, like bakers used to.  Never believing that a recipe can be perfected or relied upon over skill, or that it is possible that any one of our products could ever be their best. We believe that is what makes a great baker, and makes truly artisan bread and pastry.  

We believe the very best baked goods are baked that morning. We will never, ever sell a loaf or pastry that wasn’t made that day. Some things in life and cooking can be reasonably made in advance and served with a semblance of quality. Bread and pastry are not those things.  If not eaten the same day, a croissant’s lively flaky texture will turn into a moist bread-like chew. A loaf of freshly made preservative free bread will begin losing the crackle in its blistered crust within several hours. Even soft, pillowy buttercream will develop a hard exterior shell of stale sugar that completely changes the cake experience. Are they safe and still good? Sure. At least most of the time. Kind of. But if you’re buying something with your hard-earned money, you should get what you’re paying for. In taste, texture and life span. Bread and pastry should live it’s life in your hands and delighting your taste buds, not on our bakery shelf. You deserve better. This promise is one we have held strong to, no matter how difficult it has been. One of the biggest hurdles we’ve had upholding this promise, is time. In order to provide the quality, we have to bake only what will sell that day. If it’s in our case when we close, it’s a loss for our small bakery. When it occasionally happens, we donate what’s left that afternoon. However, losses of any kind necessarily increase the cost of doing business and we never, ever want to have to pass that onto our customers. Instead, we do our best to estimate the quantities needed that day. While you may not be able to walk into The Bakery near the end of the day and find well stocked varieties and quantities, we do promise the baked goods you get will always be freshly baked with unmatched quality. And, inherently, the best value.

We use the highest quality ingredients, bar none. Organic, seasonal, fresh, small batch, artisan crafted, and honestly good. Even when it blows the budget.  Sometimes these ingredients are hard to source, and often limited. If an ingredient doesn’t meet our standards, or isn’t available in the amounts we need, we don’t make it or we limit the quantities we produce. We would rather you are able to rely on our quality, than serve you anything other than our best.

It's true. The Bakery at 1871 doesn’t produce an abundance for the sake of stocking shelves or convenience. That concept lies squarely in the world of mass production and it’s derived notion of paramount convenience. It produces poorly or machine run goods, often riddled with compromised quality, even when well dressed in artisan clothes. It isn’t the artisan way. It isn’t our way. So, while we wish we could produce a Bakery always full of your favorites, at any time of day, we know we all pay for that in a thousand forgotten ways. Frankly, when it comes down to it, we would rather apologize for a little inconvenience than poor quality.

The Bakery at 1871 is undoubtedly sitting in view of a very weighty elephant, trying to move it with very little leverage and a small dolly.  Maybe even one with rickety wheels. You know the kind on shopping carts that continually try to pull you out of a straight path? However, all of that is okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. Because the strength we’re building every day makes more than character. It makes great bakeries. And no matter how many wheels try to pull us of course, or throw elephants in our way, we can see through it to everything we will become. All with many, many thanks to you.

sometimes life gets away from you.

Rob and I took the last couple of weeks off to try and catch up on some rest and tackle a few lingering unfinished projects at 1871. In a 153 year old house, there is always something that needs tending to. Many somethings, most times. Preserving and caring for this historical property is so very important to us. We take great responsibility in making sure it will be here 153 years from now.

Once we stopped spending twenty hours a day in the kitchen, we had a moment to look around and realize how many projects had begun piling up. So, we got to work. For the last two weeks we have been busting our butts to work through a lengthy to-do list. Despite our efforts, we haven't reached the end. We've decided its best to do everything we can to mend these loose ends and make sure 1871 is being taken care of.

We are going to reopen The Bakery, next week, Wednesday, January 17th. We're very sorry for the inconvenience, and can't wait to see you all again.

*NOTE* If you have placed a reservation for this week, we are still filling them. We will contact each of you to confirm, but your reservation will still be made with all the usual love and care.

eat good.

Today we took a bit of time off to find and enjoy all the amazing things in our area, especially in our never-ending hunt for truly good and honest food. We’ve been up to Walnut Street Market a couple of times, but today we bumped into the owner, Jim, and had one of the best food conversations we’ve had in a long, long time.

Did you know he is an amazing chef? When someone spends their life sourcing and preparing food, with genuine care, all I want to do is stop and listen. I’m so glad we did.

After retiring, he and his wife opened Walnut Street Market as a way to give back to the community and help truly support our local farmers and artisans. Every sourced crop, loaf, or product in his store starts the same way, with his personal inspection of the vendor’s farm or kitchen. As Jim explained, his priority is transparency. He wants to be able to tell you, without question, the quality and care of every single item in Walnut Street Market. As we found out, that’s no bull. My husband is always quick to laugh at how many questions I ask. After our first date he may have mentioned it was a little over-the-top, but I prefer to call it inquisitive (and maybe due diligence, especially in dating and food). So, I can say without pause, I’m not sure I’ve ever met a person so well informed on so many aspects of food. Moreover, passionate about his life’s work and purpose. Like many of us in this industry, his time is scarce. So it is even more admirable that he returns 80% of the sale price to his producers, and spends the other 20% on store overhead (if only I could figure out how to run 1871 with such low overhead). While he has an operating farm (Stockton Farms in Gainsboro-check it out) and does sell his products there with the other vendors, he takes nothing in profit or payment for owning and operating the Market. He treats himself as any other vendor, truly living the struggles and rewards of responsible farming. He is actually walking in the farmer’s shoes. That means not only does he genuinely care about supporting local farmers and the food industry, he doesn’t have to increase the price of goods to cover his profit. As someone who feels like they’re always fighting with rising food prices, this makes me do a little happy dance. Jim said a few times, it’s not about him. Its about all of us. Farmers and food-eaters alike.

Now, in regards to locally sourced, the reality is that not all the ingredients we need can be grown in Tennessee. While over 90% of the products in the market are made right here, some just cannot be. Flour, for instance.

Did you know that only one wheat grain grows well here? Sadly, it’s not the most widely used or even versatile. It’s the grain used to make pastry flour. As a baker, I can honestly say, it’s the least used and least appreciated flour in my freezer full of grains. Tennessee is really a horrible place for growing most flour grains. Ask any real farmer. The wheat grains that routinely produce our favorite breads and (yes) pastry, grow well to the north and west of us. It seems Jim discovered this, too. As I turned a corner in the Market, I discovered a very familiar craft brown and orange bag sitting on his shelf. Hello, old friend. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was that, when he had to source ingredients from beyond our area, he didn’t settle on an easy-to-find, mass produced, nutrient stripped, steel milled flour. And, true to his statement of transparency, he didn’t repackage it to hide the milling type and source. Instead, he did his research and stocked his shelves with Janie’s Mill. An honest small batch, stone ground flour, produced in a mill that only uses organic grains. Small batch, family farmed, and highest quality grains and milling. The kind of mill where you can actually call and talk to the owner. How many products can you still say that about?

I walked the entire market, a few times over, and checked the product labels. I’m a big believer in listen, hope things are true, but always verify. At every section I got more excited and loaded my basket with meat, veggies, and even freeze-dried goodies – all of which were transparently labeled with the farmer, baker or artisan’s information. Low and behold, almost all locally sourced, verified standards, and honestly explained processing. The transparency and local sourcing was a real thing! My cart was so heavy, I had to call in husband muscle long before getting to the register. And, quite frankly, for the first time in a long time, I can’t wait to start making dinner.

I couldn’t possibly write this without sharing the information on all the ingredients soon-to-be making our life delicious. And the amazing local farmer’s that made our dinner possible. Shout out to some truly wonderful local vendors (over 80 of them in total at the Walnut Street Market):

Good Soil Farmstead (Cookeville, TN) –beautiful turkey and stunningly green lettuce

Villa Acres Farm (Sparta, TN)- vibrantly orange and crisp baby carrots

Stockton Farms (Gainsboro, TN)- seasoned pork sausage and the beef filet I’m so eager to cook tonight

Anderson Farms (Alpine, TN)- ground beef and short ribs to help me make my husband’s all time favorite meal

Grump Werx (Cookeville, TN)- amazingly flavorful sweet potato chips that are my favorite new snack

I’m pretty sure I would have bought everything in the store, pocketbook permitting. There is an incredible number of vendor’s worth noting and enjoying products from. Lucky for me, Walnut Street Market has an easy to find, categorized list on their website (many thank you’s to them for their transparency. We love knowing what we’re putting in our food): https://www.walnutstreetmarket.com/vendors.

I suspect we’ll be seeing more and more of them popping up in all the goodness of 1871’s bread and pastry.

I know, this sounds like a paid advertisement. I get weirdly excited about finding and sharing good food. However, 1871 has no affiliation, partnership, or promotional benefit with Walnut Street Market. Just a shared love of supporting farmers and eating good food.

A new year’s wish.

Several years ago we were meandering through a shop, and stumbled on this small cardboard square holding starry tissue paper and a little gold pencil. It read “wish paper” on the front with a simple description, “a whimsical kit to make wishes come true”.  It was an absurd price for a cardboard square of tissue paper but, for some reason, I couldn’t leave without it. I threw it in a drawer for months, occasionally stumbling on it again, and trying to remember to break it free at the next best occasion.

When New Years Eve rolled around that year, I had spent the prior week thinking about the perfect wish. One wish that was open-ended enough to embrace whatever the new year would bring, and could also find genuine happiness. I know, that seems a bit silly. However, that particular year, I had uprooted my entire life on little other than faith and hope. For the kind of happiness that, I dreamed, would come from good. So that year, I decided my wish would be for three little words… enjoy every minute. No matter what the next year would bring, whatever changes rolled through or mundane chores carried on. Whatever good or bad life brought, I vowed to find the good in the smallest things and appreciate them.

I think I really started living that year. For the first time. And there started our tradition of a New Years wish. Every December 31st at 11:59 pm we gather our wish paper, commit our dreams to writing with a little gold pencil, and send our hopes for the new year flickering into the endless, starry night sky.

I can’t say I believe that little squares of tissue paper hold any real magic properties. However, I do believe that committing to our hopes and sending our dreams into the world, in any number of ways and actions, proves that there is magic in human spirit. Magic that always begins with just a little flicker of hope.  And, more than anything, that we are all magically capable of amazing things.

Over the past year, in living our dream, we have opened our doors and our lives in amazing new ways. We can’t tell you how thrilled we are that each of you has walked through and shared a bit of time with us. Becoming more and more like friends and family. It has been the most unexpected and wonderful surprise of 2023. As I’m sitting here, once again trying to find the right wish to scribble on a piece of starry tissue paper tonight, I hope you’re all doing a little of the same.

Rob and I hope the new year brings you tons of goodness, hope, and the magic flicker of your dreams coming true.

We wish you the merriest of holidays

We just want to take a moment to thank you for what has been one of the best years of our lives. Through all the craziness, the lessons learned, and the incredible joys, one thing stands true. We love being a small part of your lives. It is our true happiness to bring you just a bit of us in every bread, bagel and pastry. And through every moment, we've become more passionate and grateful to be here, living this crazy bakery dream. Not a minute of which, would be possible without each of you.

Rob and I want to wish you the merriest of holidays, and the hope that all of your dreams come true as we begin a new year.

We're going to take a bit of time to rest and begin some very big plans for Sparta's little bakery. And while we very much need to do both, if I'm being honest, we can’t wait to see you again Tuesday, January 9th.

Have you eaten, darling?

When I was a teenager I went with my family to visit my great grandparents. It was about this time of year, with the first view of holiday decorations popping up and Christmas music just hitting the radio stations. I was still young enough to get very excited about Christmas gifts piled around a glittering, pine smelling tree. However, moving further away from family had given my teenage perspective a nudge. And my idea of what to put on a wish list was changing along with it.

My great grandmother, Nana, was a formidable character. As a young girl, she seemed nothing less than a force of nature. She had an opinion or two, and never minded sharing them. After all, she had already lived an astonishing life. Two world wars, the roaring 20s, the Great Depression, falling and staying in love for a lifetime, the cultural changes of the 1960s, starting a business when few women did, losing a child, and the growth of a nation and it’s values for over 100 years. I’d say she earned every opinion, and I still respect them. However, it was crystal clear, even when I was a child, that her opinions were deeply rooted in caring and love. And damn if that woman wouldn’t move mountains for those she cared about. Despite all she had seen and done, there is one thing I remember about her most. Without fail, every time anyone walked in her door, she would ask the same question… “Have you eaten, darling?”

Maybe it was, in part, the fun and excitement of big family dinners. Or being surrounded by that kind of love. But Nana was an amazing cook. And, that year, what I wanted most was to always have just a bit of that. So, when she asked what I wanted for Christmas, I had only one answer. I wanted her to share her favorite recipes. I wanted to learn to be the kind of cook she was, and share that much love in food.

It turns out, Nana never wrote down a recipe. I could see the concern run across her face in frown lines. She realized she didn’t have them to give. So, she simply answered that she would try to jot some down. It was a concept I hadn’t considered, but it stuck with me all these years. It, in itself, was a gift that eventually made me the cook I am.

Over decades I’ve learned that cooking and baking is so much greater than following a recipe. After all, a recipe can never be perfected and shouldn’t be adhered to like the strong word of Nana’s advice. Concepts, ideas, inspiration and dishes are explored and evolved every single day we live. They continually grow with us, embodying our adventures and experiences. Cooking and baking are about understanding a process, but adding a bit of yourself and the care you have for the people you’re sharing food with.  They are about celebrating life’s good times, and providing comfort in bad. Or, sometimes, just savoring a small everyday moment. They are not meant to be bound by measured ingredients or a particular process. They are about caring, and sharing, ourselves. like a memory of that moment in our lives.

It's always this time of year, in the midst of the crazy holiday season, that I like to stop and remember all that is truly valuable in this nutty world. I open the little recipe book my great grandmother, grandmother and mother pieced together for me that Christmas, and read the aging pen marks from their handwritten recipes. I feel their love in every scribbled and stained card. I smile at the idea of taking their history and adding a bit of myself to share with friends and family. And, as I step into the kitchen and start mixing ingredients, I can still hear Nana asking, “have you eaten, darling?”

Thank you, so much, for being part of our lives and bakery dream at 1871. We wish you the happiest holiday season, and hope you’re surrounded by love and caring this Christmas and all year long.

Happy season of gratitude, Sparta.

Last night, as my husband and I were planning our timing schedule for this massive season finale Sparta Green Market bake, the topic strayed onto how many bagels, pastries, and loaves of bread we've baked in this kitchen.  And how rapidly and dramatically things have changed over the past (very short feeling) year. The dizzying highs, the gut punching lows, and all the "how in the world are we going to do this?" moments in between. Although we have lived it, every day, somehow it’s still astonishing to think about the average 20-hour day. Or not going to sleep at all for three days on big events. The impossible juggling of our quickly fading former careers and all-around lives. But it's also amazingly gratifying and fulfilling to know, deep down, that we have given this dream our absolute everything. We’ve been so blessed to watch it flourish into something that has filled our lives with such happiness and community. Yes, calling this journey hard may be the understatement of the century. But, looking back at it, we would do it all over- again and again- in a heartbeat. Because this isn't just our business. This little former B&B kitchen may have gone from a humble place where I made dinner for my husband, to a commercial-looking space filled with huge mixers and deck ovens, but it’s still our heart. And being able to hand you a warm loaf of bread or the best freshly baked pastry is what the heart of our kitchen is all about.

We are some of the luckiest people in the world for being able to live this dream, and share it with you every day. While we know the ambition and fight to bring our dreams to fruition has only just begun, we go into this season, and next year, being grateful for every moment of growth to come. We can’t wait to share our hard work, and all of what’s coming, with you.

Happy season of gratitude, Sparta. We love being your little bread and pastry bakery.

it has taken us far too long to get around to this question (or two).

We get asked a lot of really great questions,

and we love it.

So, let’s talk about it.

It’s a twofer question kind of day. As more and more new faces come through our doors daily, we’re hearing two questions a lot. And they definitely deserve an answer.

First (and just before someone new arrives)…

”Where are you? I can’t find you.”

The short answer is, we’re at 127 N. Main St. However, we’re not where most people expect to find us.

We are only a couple of blocks from the square in the heart of Sparta, but we aren’t in the usual commercial type space. In August of 2021 my husband and I fell in love with an old, historic house. From the moment we walked in, we knew we wanted to share the house and it’s history with all of you. We feel very strongly that history and beauty like this is too amazing to keep to ourselves. That was the moment we realized our entire lives were about to spontaneously change forever.

These old walls, commissioned in 1871 by an attorney (and built largely by his client in lieu of his legal bill) have sheltered many of Sparta’s citizens and visitors in the past 152 years. From Civil War General George Dibrell all the way to Miss Eula Mae’s Bed & Breakfast guests. Those first days, standing in it’s hand hewn beams and richly stained quarter sawn oak, all installed with square head nails, we were inspired to take a leap. To follow a dream I’ve quietly had for decades. At that moment, suddenly, everything made sense. This beautiful house, meant to be shared, was the perfect setting to share our passions and dreams. The perfect way to help this beautiful house begin it’s new part of Sparta’s story. And maybe the reason we somehow ended up here, now.

That is how the Bakery at 1871 came to be in an old white house, set back on N. Main St. in Sparta. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. To us, this beautiful welcoming house is the perfect place to enjoy this moment in history with our friends and neighbors. And maybe have a pastry.

second (and just after someone new arrives)… 

“How did I not know about you before?”

About the time we opened our doors to this adventure, a quote came across my morning feed. It said simply, “make a good product and you’ll tell everyone. Make a great product and they’ll tell you.”

Our little bakery started out as just my husband and I, in an old B&B kitchen, making do. To a large extent, nine months later, we are still making do as we grow very slowly. On purpose. We try desperately, every day, to be proud of every single bread and pastry that leaves our kitchen. We set impossible standards for ourselves and, even when it drives us mad, we remain committed to them. Things like using the highest quality and organic ingredients, practicing an artisanal small batch process, and baking fresh every morning. Those standards are our promise to you. Months later, we believe in those standards more than ever before. We also know that great things need to be built on a strong foundation if they have any hope of lasting. Like the massive old growth wood beams holding this house for the last 152 years, we are building this little bakery dream slow and strong. Our high cost of ingredients and very long work days don’t leave room for a flashy marketing budget. At least not responsibly, a baseline we deem as essential as the engineering in a good foundation. To date, we have not spent one penny on marketing or advertising. Which, aside from keeping our prices as reasonable as possible, means, everyday, several new people walk through our doors and ask, “how did I not know about you before?” Or, our favorite comment after finding us, “this is the best kept secret in Sparta.” Most people don’t know we’re here, because nearly everyone learns about us from word of mouth. We could not be more proud of that. No flashy gimmicks or paid narrative advertising. Just good, honest neighbor to neighbor sharing. Truth in quality, from our real customers. Who, to our ever lasting giddiness and joy, tell everyone they know. We are blessed that each of you help us grow slowly, as a strong part of this wonderful town we call home. We’re very happy being Sparta’s best kept secret and hope to grow, genuinely, organically, and slowly, as you learn about us and tell a friend. After all, that is the highest compliment any small business could ever earn. Moreover, its everything we strive for. Even if it takes a while.

See you soon!

The Bakery at 1871

good morning

Good morning bread bake from The Bakery at 1871. The first batch of sourdough loaves just came out of the ovens. The crust is crackling like a wake up song, and it smells like my idea of heaven. What a beautiful way to start every day.

Let’s cut to the crust.

We get asked a lot of great questions, and we love that.

So, let’s chat about it.

What’s the white stuff?

Several people have come into the Bakery at 1871 recently and asked why some sourdough loaves they’re finding other places have a white-ish crust. Especially when they see that ours are distinctively golden brown. The short answer is, it’s usually rice flour. They tend to look even more confused when we say that, because the next question is always, “is the bread made of rice flour (I thought it was wheat)?” No. When sourdough bread baking became all the rage during covid lockdowns, many people began posting pictures of highly decorated loaves all over social media. In order to highlight their decorative scoring, they dust, roll, and sometimes obliterate the bread’s crust in rice flour. Rice flour doesn’t absorb into bread dough. Even when you bake it, it just hangs out there on the surface. Which means, when the loaf rises and the decorative scoring opens up, you get a high contrast pattern. With real artistry, it’s pretty. It makes a lovely display loaf. However, for a couple of reasons, you rarely find it in bakeries. While some focus a great deal on those pretty patterns, it comes at a cost to the quality of the bread (and the taste and texture on your tongue). It’s a concession in quality that bakers and enthusiasts aren’t willing to make. Here’s why…

Scoring

Scoring provides an important purpose in bread baking. It tells the bread where to open and expand during an oven rise, so that the interior crumb is light, airy and open with proper expansion. When a loaf is excessively scored with decorative cuts, it affects how the loaf rises in the oven, and the overall quality and texture of the interior crumb.

Crust

Moreover, when a loaf is coated in any type of flour (especially one that doesn’t absorb in dough), it prevents the proper maillard reaction during baking. A rice flour coating means the crust doesn’t brown, blister, crisp and taste as well as it should. The deep, umber brown color on good bread is actually the sign of high quality, well grown and milled, nutrient and flavor rich flour.

its’ simple

We believe bread, in itself, is naturally beautiful. The deeply brown and blistering color and proper texture are only achieved with high quality flour, proper scoring, and a perfectly timed steam cook. It tells you everything you need to know about the quality of the bread at first sight.

Great, simple, honest bread doesn’t need anything else.

deliciously silly.

Morning buns rising in the oven always make me smile. I mean, that mixture of brown sugar, cinnamon and orange zest smells amazing, but the way they pop out and say good morning is just a bit of silly happiness.

meant to be.

When my husband and I started dating I was on a bagel a day habit. He, on the other hand, could take them or leave them. If given a choice, he would choose something else for breakfast. When we got serious, so did this issue. You see, it’s difficult to find a great bagel in any place other than a great bagel shop. And they don’t often do anything else. So someone always had to compromise on how to start their day. Truth be told, I’m not a great compromiser.

As grace would have it, he makes up for my shortcomings in so many ways.

Ten years later, I would never have imagined my broadcast equipment engineer (and person who never baked a day in their life) would make the best bagels I’ve ever had. And he now gets to make unexpected flavors he gets excited about. I guess life has a way of working out for the best.

organic.

We get asked a lot of really great questions,

and we love it.

So, let’s talk about it.

organic.

In the growing awareness of doing, and eating, what is best for us, the topic of organic ingredients and products comes up regularly in our conversations. We’ve mentioned in the past that we strive to use the highest quality ingredients, from the first measure of flour to the finishing with fresh berries. And, without fail, wherever there is an option, we choose organic. In fact, we do more than that. We continually seek it out, even when it’s not readily available. We care deeply about using, and honestly sharing, the source and quality of ingredients as though every single one was going to our own family. It’s been our step one since day one.

Since the 1980s there has been a public awareness and marketing drive pushing the benefits of “organic”.  However, varying actual standards and regulations for calling (and selling) something organic resulted in a lot of confusion. Even today, we hear the word organic, and most of us assume a certain standard without actually verifying it. This is the reason the USDA established and began enforcing a certification process. Now, whether you believe it’s the government’s job to establish and regulate any number of things in this country is a matter of varying opinion. While we certainly have our own, we bake bread and pastry here. We’re not in the business of politics. So, we’ll leave that up to you and your vote.  However, it falls within reason to make one point. We can’t compare apples to apples unless we all have a clear expectation of standards and implied meaning, merely as a baseline. And we have to be able to trust that the standards and resulting labeling are being used honestly. Is certified organic the end all be all?  No. But consider the history of blind faith in flawed humanity.  This is the reason we hope for honesty and transparency in people, while asking A LOT of questions.  At the end of day, regardless of what any person or entity does in the name of profit or regulation, it’s still you spending hard earned money and putting something in your body. That’s where the buck stops.

The Reality of “Organic”

There are very clear standards and uses for labeling a product as organic, based on upholding a baseline standard of principles. The reality is, if you want to call a product organic and use that little organic seal in marketing or labeling, you have to prove the product and process is worthy of carrying the label. That is not to say that products don’t exist that are well beyond certified organic standards without the mentioned certification, just that they should be labeled honestly. So that, when the bucks stops, you clearly understand what you’re eating.

At the Bakery at 1871 we make a commitment to you every day we open our doors to provide very clear marketing and product labeling for our baked goods. We will never, ever misrepresent or mislead what is in your food. We’re sticklers about this. As a result, you won’t find the word organic on our principal labeling or product marketing because businesses are not permitted to do so without certification. But more importantly, we believe in transparency. Even if a business has purchased a certified organic product; like for instance flour, and used it as 100% of a finished product, repackaged it for resale, or milled it; by process, that finished product is no longer certified organic. Whether that’s a practice and process that is acceptable to you or not, you should have honest information to personally make that decision.

We will, however, do everything we can think of to provide you with the honest and transparent information you need to make informed decisions, and feel good about what you’re eating. We proudly display the ingredients we use in every baked good that comes from our kitchen. You’ll always find our simple and organic ingredients listed on our labeling. We also welcome and encourage your questions. Heck, if you want to see the bag our organic grains come in, just ask. We love chatting about, and sharing, the very best of what a bakery can be. All in an open, friendly, and honest environment.  After all, we built a bakery in our home to share our most genuine values.

Below is a link to the USDA’s Organic Integrity Database, where anyone can search for organic farms or businesses by city or state that have been inspected and verified as organic. Only businesses that have undergone and passed these minimum inspections and standards may use or label products with an organic claim on a principal display label or use the organic seal.  Whether it is their production, processing, or repackaging.

We encourage you to confirm the standards for your food, with an organic certification search and/or any practice that gives you certainty, and the validity of it’s source, processing and labeling.

https://organic.ams.usda.gov/integrity

It All Comes Down to This

We sincerely hope that all of your food is grown and sold with the highest of intentions and values, and at the end of the day, with a transparency that respects you. And we strongly believe that, with a little honest information, you are the best person to make decisions about what you and your family eat. We’re just here to provide good bread and pastry to make your life a little better.

We’ll see you soon!

You make us better.

We just want to take a moment to say thank you.

Since the day we opened the doors to The Bakery at 1871 at 127 N. Main St, 9 months ago, we have been doing our damndest to keep up with you. You all have truly blown us away with your ever growing support. As more and more of your smiling faces came through that door we recommitted to trying harder, invested in a ton of equipment, expanded our kitchen, got up earlier and earlier, became more efficient, and baked like we never knew we could. All in our continuing promise to bake your favorite breads and pastries fresh every morning. Never, not once, selling even a day old loaf or pastry.

Over the past 9 months I can recall very rare days when we didn't sell out well before closing time. Well, today we did it. Despite having more faces through our door than any previous Thursday in 9 months, we baked the most breads, bagels and pastries yet. We were so busy baking and filling, that we didn't even get pictures of new items for posting. And, as we greeted the last group of people just before closing, we had just enough in the cases to make sure they got sweet treats after their lunch.

As my husband and I look at each in awe of this massive feat of a day, we know we owe it all to you. You have made us better than we have ever been, and given us an amazing reason to get up at crazy hours of the morning (or is that technically night?). This may be our dream, but you're the biggest part of it and we love sharing it with you.

Now, I would talk about the insanity coming tomorrow as we work to shatter this new record and fill the incredible stack of reservations, but it still scares me a little. So, instead, I'm just going to say this with the most grateful of hearts, thank you for coming.

Thank you for being part of our bakery dream.

where should I buy flour?

We get asked a lot of really great questions

and we love that.

I cannot begin to count the number of flour brands, mills, and sources that I’ve tried and tested over the years. Especially in the last two years, as we tested endlessly for the best flour to use at The Bakery at 1871. We scoured the options, from near to far. After all, there is no single ingredient more fundamental and impactful to a bakery than it’s flour.  Its an ingredient a baker knows incredibly well. After all, it’s in nearly every baked good. Heck, its all over my shoes.

More often than not, this question is posed to us because someone bought a flour, then found the quality and performance of that flour disappointing in their home baking.

So, let’s talk about it. 

We’ve writing a series of posts to talk about grains and flours, so you can get the best (and healthiest) baked goods possible. We’ve got years of information and volumes of research, so we’ll break it up into several manageable posts. And we’re always here for questions.

We get asked a lot,

Where should I buy flour?

There are a handful of large mills in this country that supply flour, which is very often rebranded by stores, either directly by the mill or by the store themselves. Sadly, that’s how retail (especially in pretty, high priced stores) often works in this country. The first rule of thumb in flour, is that it isn’t necessarily better because it comes in a fancy labeled, high priced container. For instance, Central Milling (one of the largest, mass producing mills in our country) makes the flour frequently found all over- from small, locally rebranding stores to the largest grocery chains and box stores generic flour. They also make a very popular flour, touted as organic and high quality, called Artisan Bread Flour / Artisan Baker’s Craft. And Artisan Bread Flour / Artisan Baker’s Craft Plus, which is the malted version. Don’t get me wrong, its a fine flour. It is certified organic. But high quality? I guess that depends on the standards of the beholder.

Here’s why. 

Central Milling, in their quest to produce lots of flour at a low price for the masses, uses a volume producing steel milling process. This process strips the nutrient dense parts of the grain, milling in a high heat environment, and essentially destroying the nutritional value. The result is a very smooth and evenly ground, almost purely white flour. If you’re looking at pricy flour that looks like this, take pause. While, again, its perfectly fine, its certainly not the highest quality or, in our experience, the best performing. And you absolutely should not pay a premium for it. No matter how pretty it looks in that rebranded glass jar or bag.

Which leads me to a quick side point. We don’t recommend buying or storing flour in a light gathering glass jar. While we appreciate that its an environmentally friendly, reusable option for an air-tight container, it’s also heavy, awkwardly sized for most pantry or refrigerated storage, poorly utilized for efficient storage organization (as are basically all round storage containers whose shape limits capacity but take up the same physical space), make it difficult to access the flour through a small jar neck, and are very costly. But, most importantly, if its being sold in a clear glass container sitting on a shelf in a store, with lots of natural light and windows, you just don’t know how long its been exposed to light and heat. In an upcoming post we’ll go over the best ways to store flour (from shelf stable to fresh milled). However, all flour is susceptible to going rancid, a process which is expedited by light and heat. More over, if its a nutrient dense flour, it contains oils in the bran and germ. Sitting in light and heat, the flour could very quickly become unsafe.

So, where then?

There are a few high quality mills in this country that know more about flour than any store ever will. It’s just the nature of being true experts in their field. Unlike large mills and resellers, they are small enough to know exactly where their grains are grown, and only mill organic (therefore, never a concern for cross contamination). They understand the nuances of each crop’s yield, and how to craft the best flour for any purpose. They use real, commercially scaled equipment that does the job better than any home-intended mockmill could. And, paramount in our experience, buying directly from the source means you’re getting the freshest product possible. All without the added cost of middle man overhead or pretty re-packaging. Here’s a list of sources that provide honest, small batch milled, high quality grains and flours that we’ve used and loved over the years. They are the same ones we rely on for great bread at The Bakery at 1871.

Janie’s Mill - https://www.janiesmill.com/

Carolina Ground - https://carolinaground.com/

Nope, we aren’t making a dime for promoting them. And we never charge you for sharing information.