Miracles Made by Artisan Bakers

By Debbra Mikaelsen

Photos by Leeanne Munn

On a brisk, blue-skied day, I hug a loaf of peasant bread to my heart, feeling its fresh-from-the-oven warmth radiate through the paper bag wrapping. I feel good about this bread; I have met the baker whose hands formed it, and I have seen the odd little wood-burning oven that baked it.

All food is a miracle, but few things amaze me as much as this transformation of flour, yeast, salt and water into a gift with a crispy crust and a soft, chewy interior. Bread is like a kiss: when it’s good, it’s a simple pleasure that makes the troubles of the world disappear. You want more. When it’s not good, there’s simply no point.

I have not always had such a healthy respect for good bread. When I was very young, my family’s daily bread came from one of those bakeries that all small towns used to have, sweet-smelling places that sell wedding cakes, jelly donuts, and loaf after loaf of white sandwich bread. In Grade one, I ate my lunch with about twenty other kids who traded peanut butter on white bread for cheese on white bread for tuna on white bread. Of my entire class, there was only one boy who brought brown sandwiches for lunch. Needless to say, nobody traded with him. I thought brown bread was stale bread. I didn’t know then that white bread past its prime would sprout green fur; instead I assumed it must turn beige, like stale snow. I thought this boy was one of the poor kids; surely nobody would eat bread that colour if they could buy the good stuff. In the 1970s, we wanted our food to be as highly processed as possible.

And bread was something you bought, not something you made. Our family had a homemade life; my mother had a garden and canned her own peaches, pears and cherries every summer. She made chocolate-studded cookies and flaky pie crusts and luscious cakes, but she did not bake bread, and I somehow became convinced that baking bread must be difficult.

It is not difficult. And it doesn’t have to be laborious or messy, either. If you don’t believe me, go to “no knead bread” and watch New York Times food-writer Mark Bittman at Manhattan’s Sullivan Street Bakery. The video shares that baker’s fantastic, easy, no-knead bread recipe with the world. As you might have guessed, this bread requires no kneading, and it’s a piece of cake (sorry) to make at home. Very little yeast is used; a slow rising time, a wet dough and a preheated covered pot create bread that is a pretty wow experience. It’s versatile as well; you can add herbs, cheese, dried fruit or nuts as long as everything is well encased in the dough before you put it in the oven.

Home-baked bread is a simple way to get in touch with your inner show-off. Honestly, you slice a loaf that’s still warm from the oven and guests will say, somewhat suspiciously, “Did you make this?” just as if you’d knit the sofa out of wool that came from the sheep in your backyard. If you’re invited to a party, show up with a loaf of homemade bread and a dish of butter mixed with freshly chopped chives, and people will act as if you’ve reached an arm into the sky and offered them a handful of stars. Or, if you want to cheat, purchase one of those partially baked baguettes from La Baguette and just pop it in the oven to finish it off. That can be our little secret.

Making bread is something that humankind should be skilled at; we’ve been doing it for a very long time. The ancient Egyptians are thought to have been the first bakers, and in one form or another bread has been a basic staple of many cultures. Chapattis, rotis, naan, lavash, focaccia, brioche, pumpernickel and pita provide the foundation for all types of meals all over the world. And humans are good at making bread—much better than the factories whose loaves fill supermarket shelves.

This is perhaps the most versatile of all foods: appropriate for every meal, and a vehicle for both sweet and savoury toppings. Chunks of fresh bread make excellent plate cleaners when you’ve had something saucy or smothered in gravy. Pair bread with a good soup or salad and it becomes a satisfying, nutritious and economical meal. Day-old bread can be reincarnated as sweet or savoury puddings, garlicky croutons, or a herby, crumbly topping for out-of-this-world macaroni and cheese.

Not everyone is going to embrace this bake-your-own bread concept, no matter how easy it is. Fortunately, you can get really amazing bread in Metro Vancouver without ever scooping so much as a cup of flour into your mixing bowl. We are lucky to have so many bakers who believe that bread should be something special, and who want their customers to discover the simple miracle of utterly gorgeous bread. Here are a few of my favourites:

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• Whole wheat bread from Transilvania Peasant Bread bakery in Kitsilano, a sturdy, serious loaf that’s full of goodness. Not for picnics; take it home and introduce it to a proper bread knife. 3474 West Broadway, Vancouver. 604-319-5623.
• Seed Bread from A Bread Affair. This has such gorgeous flavour it’s almost a crime to eat it with anything except a smear of butter, although it makes a fine sandwich, too. 20560 Langley Bypass, Unit 309, Langley. 604-514-2353. Available at many farmers’ markets. www.breadaffair.com
• La Baguette makes very fine classic baguettes as well as a potato variety, and partially baked versions of both. Available from the bakery on Granville Island as well as at many food stores. www.labaguette.ca
• Indian Spice Pugliese from Fieldstone Artisan Breads, Crescent Beach. Like eating a slice of samosa. They also make a cheese and garlic loaf that’s a shortcut to happiness. #2-12823 Crescent Rd, South Surrey. 604-531-7880 www.fieldstonebread.ca
• The unique, sweet Transylvanian Chimney Bread from Andras of Transylvanian Chimney Bread. The plain flavour is slightly lemony. Coconut, cinnamon or walnut are also available. Best eaten within a few hours of purchasing. Find them at the Coquitlam Farmers’ Market or Coquitlam Winter Market. Or, between markets, order by contacting Sylvia at 604-936-7831.

Debbra Mikaelsen is a Vancouver-based writer and copywriter, because there was just no future in that first grade career as a sandwich trader.