Mom? What’s an Artisan Bread?
Today as I’m trying to write this email and do a few other administrative tasks, my 10 year old Leo is hopping around in the background, asking a variety of distracting questions. “Mom, it’s been so long since I had a macaron, when can I have a macaron again?!” (This weekend, when we go to San Francisco for your birthday I can take you to Miette Patisserie for a macaron) “Mom! Look at this mandarin, it looks so perfect with it’s little stem and leaf attached, it looks like a picture book isn’t that your favorite?” (Yes, it is.) “Mom! What does that say on your website? What is artisan bread?” (WHAT?!?)
Artisan, I explain, refers to a craftsperson. A skilled craftsperson who makes something by hand, who has a certain level of experience. The thing that makes my bread “artisanal” is the skill level and handcraft of the human being making the bread. The co-opting of this word by factory produced grocery store loaves is …deeply ironic. (Increasingly I mince words by saying things like ‘deeply ironic’ when I don’t want to be forced to say ‘bald faced lies’) Artisan isn’t a flavor or style of bread, it refers to the baker themselves and the years of handwork and toil behind them that has hopefully informed their pursuits. The dream is that the artisan preserves traditional methods of food production and procures and supports high quality ingredients.
Sourdough itself is a traditional and ancient method of bread leavening involving the cultivation and care of a wild yeast culture. Much like the fermentations involved in wine, beer and cheese making, artisans are working with earthy soil born materials, seasonal harvests, and the magic of living yeast. Preserving heirloom craft traditions is more labor, and that labor is and must be human, mostly because the time it takes and the specialized skill and knowledge don’t translate easily to the mechanized production environment. In the case of bread, I’m often amazed at how much truly beautiful bread absolutely demands the nuanced firm/gentle human touch, and the nimbly curious human mind living in presence with all it’s senses attached. The fineness of niche movements and granular discernments that can be attuned to by the mind absorbed in craft, whether it be making or the arts, often astounds me.
Take time if you can to appreciate watching your barista create a delicate rosette in foamed milk, find a perfectly round and evenly thin tortilla rolled out at the taqueria, admire the particular set of skills practiced in enfolding beans and cheese in masa for a pupusa, and the finesse of stretching out a pizza not once or twice, but hundreds of times, and the subtle wrist flicks with a peel that turn that circle of dough in the oven to a beautifully even char. Recognizing and respecting our artisans as what makes our community special is important, and delicious!