When this week began I looked at the weather forecast and saw that it would be hotter than the dickens on market Wednesday. Normally that wouldn’t bode well for bread sales, but I expected Smittybread might get a boost from a nice feature article about our soon-to-open bakery in the local newspaper, so I made a little extra of everything.
Unfortunately a dangerous thunderstorm dashed our hopes for a banner market day. Before the opening bell at 3:30 p.m., a horn sounded warning us of an approaching storm. We covered the bread with a tarp and were preparing to ride out the storm when the market master ran past telling us the West Lafayette fire chief had assessed the situation and was ordering everyone to abandon their tents due to the possibility of lightning strikes. My assistants and I lowered the EZUp shelter to its lowest setting and made for our vehicles.
It was raining buckets as I sat in my SUV and stared at the weather radar on my smart phone. I craned my neck to see how my tent was holding up when suddenly I heard the sound of rain through an open window and felt cold drops on my neck. I looked up and saw the moonroof slowly opening. My head had hit the opener! I quickly hit the
“close” button but not until after the storm had left a damp impression inside the cabin. I was already soaking wet so it was no big deal. Luckily my computer was safely inside its carrying case.
While waiting out the storm I received an email informing me the market was officially closed. I knew from past experience an official closure didn’t mean we had to call it quits. It simply meant we were on our own with no official sanction from the market organizers.
After an hour or so, the rain let up and I returned to check out the tent and salvage what was left of our baked goods. Luckily, several large pockets of water on the roof of the EZUp helped hold it down in the driving wind. After emptying the water pockets I raised the shelter roof to see what had survived the storm.
The baguettes, poking up from a basket on top of the display table, were safe and dry under one end of the tarp. However, the other end of the tarp had blown up and over the table, exposing many of the loaves to rain spatters. Still, most of the bread was sellable.
Because many vendors had packed it in, I was able to park my SUV next to the stall and move the dry bread inside in case the storm returned. Despite social media announcements that the market was closed, customers started showing up in twos and threes. Realizing it was now or never, my buddy John and I marked down the bread, croissants and pretzels to “second-day” prices, and pretty soon we had a steady stream of customers.
By the end of the day, counting after-market sales, we had sold nearly $400 worth of bread. That was better than some days when the weather was cooperative. The next day I had a few loaves left, some of which I sold and several of which I donated to the local soup kitchen. All in all it was a memorable market experience. Peace and bread!
In preparing to open my own sourdough bakery, I spent a day recently taking a whirlwind, calorie-packed tour of several San Francisco bakeries.
My “work” was amply rewarded, not in pounds gained but in a perspective and palate broadened by exposure to a variety of bakery designs, concepts, menus and tastes.
The tour also brought me unexpectedly face to face with one of San Francisco’s baking luminaries, Michel Suas, a delightful soul and pied piper of a whole generation of baking entrepreneurs.
I selected my targets by Googling “best San Francisco pastry shops.” There were numerous lists and more shops than I could visit in a day. I then created a Google map with pins marking the addresses of each bakery location so I could hit as many possible with the least amount of driving.
First stop was Tartine Bakery, a mecca for sourdough and pastry fans. As I walked expectantly into the Mission district building on a cool, sunny morning, I encountered a compact dining room filled with customers hunkered over cups of coffee, pastries and breakfast treats. The place was abuzz with conversation and food prep. The decor was understated. Painted wooden chairs and tables showed signs of wear from the thousands of hands, purses, butts and elbows that pass over them daily.
I ordered a Tartine country loaf, a morning bun and coffee for breakfast, and an almond croissant for my wife, who could not join me as she was elsewhere in the city on business.
The place seats about 25-30, depending on how tightly you squeeze, and has a counter where about eight people can comfortably stand. I stood at the counter and enjoyed every bite of my sugar-glazed cinnamon roll.
Takeaway: Busy is good, and flavor is everything. Nothing whets the appetite so much as seeing a lot of people enjoying themselves, and if you have a great product why bother with fancy seating, expensive light fixtures and neon signs?
Next stop, Craftsmen and Wolves, was located within easy walking distance in a brick commercial building.
The cabinets and display counter were modern and sleek looking, yet an exposed brick wall and spartan wooden tables and benches softened the look, creating an eclectic, funky feel.
I didn’t have room for the bakery’s signature pastry, the “Rebel Within,” consisting of a whole egg baked inside a muffin. I ordered a kouign amann and a jasmine tea. Having just bolted a morning bun, I couldn’t wolf it down as readily but it was enjoyable.
I read that the unusual name (abbreviated CAW) refers to craftsmen bakers and wolf-like creditors. Having experienced the startup costs of a small bakery, I can relate. I also admired the chutzpah of someone daring to set up shop in Tartine’s back yard.
I next drove northwest to Marla Bakery Restaurant for lunch. The bakery is located in a small commercial district surrounded by residences in an area called Outer Richmond. The neighborhood is more village-like compared to the denser, urban Mission district I’d just left.
I entered Marla, took a seat and ordered a half of a grilled cheese and soup and hibiscus tea. The meal arrived promptly and was rich and satisfying. The atmosphere was a homey, Midwestern sort of arrangement of painted chairs and stained wood tables, macrame wall decorations, and flowers.
A large wood-fired bread oven divided the dining room and kitchen. It’s not the kind of showpiece fire-fed oven you’d see at a pizza place but a workhorse. Heat from the wood fire circulates up and around the bake chambers.
A worker was stuffing olive wood into the fire chamber in preparation for the overnight bake. I had a very enjoyable chat with a young bread baker who explained some of the details of the bread schedule and oven.
Their bread was displayed on the bottom shelf of a glass-front sales/display cabinet. I left thinking the place could do a better job highlighting their bread by bringing it up to eye level as well as telling the story of the remarkable oven.
Driving due east I stopped at Heartbaker, a combination bistro/bakery with a small bar, beer on tap and locally produced artwork on the walls. I ordered a chocolate brioche pretzel. By now I was pretty well stuffed, and my notes don’t indicate what I thought of the pretzel. It was not well-shaped but had a decent flavor.
The bakery/bistro had an interesting sidewalk cafe created by two portable half walls bookending a couple of tables with chairs. The half walls roll inside at night. This was mid-afternoon, not a particularly busy time for any bistro, but several couples were enjoying their meals as sunlight poured through the cafe’s open doors.
Time was fleeting so I skipped the next bakery on my map and went straight to b. Patisserie. I had read about the partnership between Michel Suas, founder of the San Francisco Baking Institute, and Belinda Leong, another pastry chef who had briefly studied under him. I expected their bakery to be a highlight of the trip, and I was not disappointed.
B. Patisserie is located in Pacific Heights, a busier commercial district than either of the previous two stops on my tour. The place was packed with customers spoiling their dinners on amazing croissants, tarts, madeleines, scones, cookies and other goodies.
I made my way along the counter, admiring but not buying. I simply couldn’t stuff another pastry in my mouth, or so I thought. I chatted with a counter worker who tried without success to get me to try a pastry. Instead I purchased a bottle of water and went outside to sit and digest the day’s activity.
While outside I noticed through the bakery’s picture window a tall, blond gentlemen talking with a worker behind the pastry counter. Although I had never met Michel Suas, I thought I recognized him from pictures I’d seen on the Bread Bakers Guild of America website. I went back inside and asked the woman who’d waited on me if it was indeed Michel (I think I referred to him as Michael.)
“Oh, you know Michel?” she asked.
“I know of him,” I replied. While I waited she got his attention and brought him over. I introduced myself as aspiring baker from Lafayette, Ind., with plans to open my own shop in the near future. I explained his bakery was the fourth or fifth I’d sampled that day.
He asked me which shops I’d seen, and we compared notes. Here was a man, I thought to myself, at ease with himself, proud of his profession, and full of life. A good role model.
He asked if I had tried one of their pastries, and I explained I couldn’t possibly fit another in my belly. Before leaving, however, I purchased a kouign amann the size of a softball. I told him I would eat it later, but he said it would be better eaten fresh, adding, “You’ll be in pain.”
I shook his hand and went back outside. I opened the sack, peeked in, and took a bite. Then another, and another until there was nothing left but crumbs all over my shirt. I looked through the window and saw Michel looking out at me giving me the thumbs up. I returned the gesture and then continued on my merry but bloated way.
In bread baking circles, the dough’s initial proof is called bulk fermentation. It’s the stage after all the ingredients have been mixed and kneaded but before the dough is divided and shaped into loaves.
To the untrained eye, not much goes on during the initial stages of bulk fermentation. Only the baker knows the potential within the bulky mass of unshaped dough.
Just down the street from my house, a group of workers is turning a small commercial building into the future home of Smittybread. A lot of work remains to be done, but with perseverance and a little luck my long-fermenting business plan soon will be producing loaves of crusty sourdough bread and buttery pastries.
As with most naturally yeasted doughs, my dream of starting an artisan bakery got off to a slow, almost imperceptible start. It began Jan. 14, 2009, when I received a letter from the president of what used to be my employer, Gannett U.S. Community Publishing.
The letter said nearly every employee would be required to take a week off without pay in order to reduce company costs during an industry-wide downturn. I’d spent 26 years with the company, and it hurt to realize the future would never be the same.
Two weeks after receiving the furlough letter I purchased two books by baker and author Peter Reinhart, one titled “Bread Upon Waters,” the other “Sacramental Magic in a Small-Town Café.”
Although my memory of why I purchased those books remains dim, I can only surmise I was looking for something, anything, to take my mind off work. Some time later I purchased Reinhart’s “Crust and Crumb” and began dabbling in sourdough.
Between 2009 and 2014, the Lafayette, Ind., Journal & Courier along with many other newspapers underwent a steady decline in revenues and personnel. Dismayed by my own newspaper’s cutbacks and unable to see eye-to-eye with my boss on a variety of editorial issues, I left in June 2014 at the age of 58.
I applied for some writing and editing jobs at Purdue University. I found myself waking up nights wondering what I would do with the rest of my life that would give me the same sense of accomplishment as journalism. I had a feeling writing press releases wasn’t it.
One constant that kept turning over in my head was a love for cooking I’d inherited from my Italian-heritage mom. I investigated the possibility of getting a culinary degree but decided the cost of tuition was too high. Plus, my problems with authority figures might prove lethal around so many sharp objects.
Another factor was the legacy left by my dad, known in these parts as “Smilin’ Smitty.” In the relatively short span between his service as a P-38 pilot in World War II and his untimely death in 1967, his business, Smitty’s Foodliner, gained a reputation as the area’s premier independent grocery store.
It occurred to me that with a little capital (not much more than the cost of a culinary degree, I crudely estimated) and some additional hands-on training I might parlay my penchant for making bread into a business. Not a business on the scale of Smitty’s Foodliner, but one with the same focus on quality and personal service.
In October 2014 I told my wife I was signing up for a course at King Arthur Flour titled “Setting up a Successful Bakery.” The course was taught by Jeffrey Hamelman, a baker and author whose impact on the artisan bread movement has been immeasurable. His 2004 book, “Bread: A Baker’s Book of Techniques and Recipes,” has taught and inspired many an aspiring craft baker, myself included.
He sprinkled the daylong courses with anecdotes, many humorous, but he was dead serious when he said some of us would leave the course knowing that starting a bakery might not be for them.
I wondered, was I in that category? Nevertheless, before leaving Vermont for the trip back to Lafayette, Ind., I signed up for another weeklong course the following month on advanced bread making.
That summer and next I set up a “home” bakery in a friend’s garage with equipment I’d purchased second-hand from a fraternity. I signed up as a vendor at the West Lafayette Farmers Market in 2015 and 2016, selling as much bread, croissants, brioche pastries and pretzels as I could make, sometimes with my friend’s assistance.
Indiana home-based bakers can sell bread directly to consumers at farmers markets or roadside stands but not elsewhere. Customers often would ask where they could buy my bread outside the farmers market, and I would shake my head and tell them options were limited until I could open my own commercial bakery.
If I had a donut for every time someone asked me, “So Smitty, when are you going to open your bakery?” I’d have a donut business by now.
After checking out several locations and looking into buying an existing business, I realized that opening a bakery, even a small one (or especially a small one), was harder than I had anticipated. Either the location was too inaccessible, too small, too large, ill-equipped for food service, or too pricey. And the capital costs are considerable.
Somewhere along the way I had a talk with Paul Baldwin, owner of two local food and drink establishments, The Black Sparrow, and Spot Tavern. Being a fan of good, hearty bread, and eager to promote the food and art culture locally, he suggested renting part of a building he’d recently purchased next to the Spot on South Fourth Street.
The former tattoo parlor, nee laundry, was half vacant except for the occasional visiting musicians staying overnight before or after gigs at the tavern.
In May of 2016 we hired Arkor, a local architectural and engineering firm, to draw up some preliminary plans. Paul and I split the cost.
By fall the plan had the approval of the state fire marshal, but progress slowed as the holidays approached. Meanwhile, I had a one-day bake sale that turned into my most successful day of the year, thanks in part to a recipe for chocolate and walnut cinnamon rolls my mom used to make.
As this year started, the long-fermenting project began to show visible signs of life. Paul hired a contractor to install an underground grease trap per the city’s specifications. Workers installed new dry wall on the ceilings and walls. Plumbers installed floor drains for the oven, restroom, sinks and for general cleaning purposes.
Meanwhile I lined up some equipment and working capital financing and wired funds to Pro Bake Inc. in Twinsburg, Ohio, for the purchase of a Polin bread oven made in Verona, Italy.
This past week electricians upgraded the electrical service from 100 to 400 amps and installed conduits for myriad pieces of equipment besides the oven, such as a dough retarder/proofer and a sheeter for rolls and croissants. I’ve also been scooping up used equipment such as a three-bay sink large enough to soak sheet pans, a bread slicer and a dough divider.
While there are many more details to share, time is short and the to-do list is long. Suffice to say that bulk fermentation is nearing completion. If all goes well, we should be dividing, shaping and proofing bread at the new bakery sometime this spring. I’ll keep you posted.
Earlier this summer I was convinced that weather had as much to do with the vagaries of farmers’ market attendance as any other factor, but the past couple of sales have deflated that theory (thankfully.)
We’ve had just blistering weather lately. Even the farmers at the market, who should be used to it, appeared bummed. The heat index yesterday was around 100 degrees, and for the first couple of hours there wasn’t a breeze to be had. The West Lafayette Farmers’ Market, although technically in a city park, is actually in the middle of an asphalt parking lot. The vendors at this market set up between 1 and 3, which yesterday coincided with the peak temperature of 90.
On Wednesday morning, after 7 hours of baking, I had a few minutes of respite in the air-conditioned vehicle before it was time to unload my equipment onto the hot asphalt and do a little baking myself. Despite wearing a loose T-shirt, shorts and sandals, I was coated with sweat by the time my “EZ Up” (anything but!) was set up, the tables were loaded with fresh breads and the first customer had arrived — 30 minutes before the market opened!
I thanked the first-time bread buyer for braving the heat but said the market frowned on early sales. She was a little irritated, but when I promised her I’d save her a baguette while she went to the grocery store nearby, she was fine. The last few minutes before the 3:30 opening I freshened up in the restroom, changed T-shirts, set up my portable electric fan and poured myself a cup of cold water.
My first sales of the day were two baguettes, which the Purdue University Extension booth purchased for a food demonstration. I think they made bruschetta, but I was too busy to try any of them. Despite the heat, I had a steady stream of customers for the first hour and a half, at the end of which I’d sold out of baguettes, croissants and pain au levain. Although the pace slackened after that, it remained steady and it wasn’t long before I ran out rye sourdough, seeded sourdough, Lafayette Sourdough and multi-grain.
At 7 p.m., or 30 minutes until closing, I had one loaf left, a 23-ounce 100% whole wheat sourdough made with organic flour, natural leavening, a little salt and a pinch of yeast for insurance. Just for the heck of it I posted a picture of the lonely loaf on my Smittybread Facebook page. Less than 5 minutes later a customer came up and snatched it up. He did not, however, see it on social media. It was pure coincidence.
I set a personal sales record on what was likely the hottest day of the summer. It’s real nice at the end of a hot afternoon to have only equipment left to pack up, although my wife complains when I don’t bring home unsold bread.
It was, moreover, a testament to the hardiness of Smittybread customers, who are true bread lovers. They won’t let a little triple-digit heat stand in the way of sinking their teeth into a loaf of real bread. If any of you are reading this, thanks again and see you next week.
I sold more loaves and set a personal sales record at the West Lafayette Farmers Market this past week, in part due to the perfect weather but also because of a new product I came up with almost by accident: miniature loaves.
The idea for Mini Smittybreads came about as a result not of thinking about new ways to market bread but more efficient ways to produce it.
As a small volume baker churning out three large loaves for every 30 minutes of oven time, I’ve struggled with sacrificing an entire loaf of bread to cut into sample pieces. Some days I haven’t offered samples even though they are a great way to engage customers and sell more bread.
The solution to my sample dilemma came to me a week ago: produce enough dough for the requisite number of loaves plus a little extra for a sampler loaf. The first time I tried it, it worked out well, giving me just enough samples for market without cutting into a large loaf.
Then I got to thinking: These little loaves are darned cute. Not only that, they are just the right size for a small dinner, a snack or an appetizer tray. They are also easier to cut and, for market-goers wanting to conserve cash, easier on the wallet.
In the past I’ve frequently had customers tell me they couldn’t possible use an entire 23-ounce loaf of bread. My only response, until now, has been to tell them they can always freeze half for later. In my experience that argument seldom worked.
With miniature loaves, however, I can offer a solution to the too-much-bread dilemma while at the same time appeal to that part of human nature that thinks miniatures are cute (Shetland ponies, tiny houses, toy poodles. Well, maybe not poodles …) A customer unwilling to spring for a large loaf of rye might well buy one small one and a couple more besides.
Incidentally, while I was at the market Wednesday afternoon pushing mini-loaves, a child of neighboring vendor, Holy Cow Farm Fresh, was playing behind the booth with a set of miniature farm implements. The parallel between his fascination with 1/64th scale combines and sprayers and my fascination with 1/3rd scale loaves of seeded sourdough didn’t dawn on me until days later.
To be honest, I worried that the sale of mini-loaves might cut into sales of the larger loaves, but I don’t think it did. I quickly sold out of mini-loaves of rye, multi-grain, seeded and pain au levain, each weighing 7 ounces. Several customers bought more than one. To my satisfaction, most of the small loaves went to new customers while my regulars continued buying the larger loaves. I went home with seven large loaves but was able to sell them all by the next day.
The large loaves sell for $7 each. The mini’s, weighing a third of their larger cousins, sold briskly at $3 apiece, or 3 for $8. I don’t know if I’ll make mini-loaves for each and every market, given that they require a little extra labor to produce and package. But they appear to be a novel and effective way to sell more bread and bring a smile to the faces of me and Smittybread customers.
It’s been extra busy around the Smittybread home-based bakery this spring. In addition to baking artisan breads for the West Lafayette Farmers Market, I’ve moved from one side of town to the other and have been making plans to start a storefront bakery.
While the move was just a few miles geographically, it was an arduous task sorting, packing and moving years of accumulated stuff. Luckily most of my baking ingredients and gear didn’t get lost in the shuffle. Of the first five West Lafayette Farmers Market sessions so far this year, I’ve only missed one and have sold pretty much everything I’ve been able to bake.
Unfortunately, the week I had to skip baking due to the house closing was ill-timed. It was the week Smittybread was featured in an article in Lafayette Magazine focusing on how diverse vendors use farmers’ markets as springboards to launch new products and businesses.
Anticipating the added interest the article might create, I took a few minutes before market opened May 18 to let my neighboring vendors know why I would not be joining them and that I would return the following week. One of them later said he was swamped with inquiries from people looking for Smittybread. Luckily they didn’t give up looking because I’ve since met many new customers who said they heard about Smittybread through that article. Thanks to writer Kathy Mayer, photographer Tom Baugues, and Lafayette Magazine for the positive press!
In addition to spending time moving the household and baking many baskets of sourdough bread this spring, I’ve been making plans to open a bakery. Were it not for the success I’ve had marketing sourdough bread, baguettes and pastries at the farmers market, it’s unlikely I would have the confidence to attempt something so bold, or as some might say, foolhardy. More about this in a future post.
This past week at the market I also was interviewed by a local TV news reporter for a story about a new farmers market website. As a former newspaper reporter for the Journal & Courier, I would often spot myself on the WLFI-TV 18 news, usually in the background of video shot at elections, council meetings, groundbreakings or other events. I’ve also occasionally appeared in news clips as the keyboardist in the local country band Moonshine Mason and the Rotgut Gang. I believe this was the first time, however, that I’ve been interviewed for a news story. It was a great experience.
WLFI-TV 18 Multi-platform Journalist Brittany Tyner wanted to know what I thought of a new website, FarmersMarket.com, where customers can buy from farmers’ market vendors without actually going to the market. Items purchased online are picked up at a given location once a week. It so happens that the Lafayette pickup location for items purchased through the website is Great Harvest Bakery. I told the reporter that while the idea has merit, I would not want Smittybread customers picking up their bread at someone else’s bakery.
That said, I also told her that community bakeries are not so much competing with each other as with large corporations that produce bread-like product in mass quantities for pennies per loaf and ship it, often frozen, great distances to outlets where it may sit days or weeks before being purchased.
There is no shortage of potential bread customers since nearly everyone eats bread in one form or another every day. When you think of how much bread is consumed per capita, capturing even a tiny portion of that market should be enough to keep a local bakery in business. The biggest challenge we face as community bakers is connecting with consumers and earning their business with a consistently good product that is priced competitively and delivered with a smile.
With spring about to return, so is Smittybread’s sourdough baking schedule. Last night I baked some pain au levain in anticipation of a photo shoot for an upcoming publication. And on Monday, after months of anticipation, we got an offer on our house that was too good to pass up. The house sale will simplify our lives and free up time and capital to help realize my goal of opening a microbakery hopefully in the not-too-distant future.
As a home-based or “cottage” baker in Indiana, my sales are limited to farmers’ markets and roadside stands, which during winter are as rare as robins. The nearest winter market is an hour away and already well-stocked with bakers.
Meanwhile, with the start of the West Lafayette Farmers Market just two months away, I’ve registered Smittybread as a vendor in time to secure a more-or-less permanent spot once the market opens May 4.
Last year I joined the market late, missing the entire first month. As a latecomer, I had to change my booth location on a weekly basis, making it more difficult for customers to find me. Many would ask “Where were you last week?” not realizing I was there the whole time. (One week I was the only vendor in my row, but it worked to my advantage because I was easier to find! See “Outstanding in My Field”)
I’ve kept busy during the winter break, baking three or four loaves, or a dozen rolls, at a time. Some of these loaves found their way to market customers, but most were gobbled up by family and friends. I also spent many hours learning and working with new formulas, digging deeper into the science and art of sourdough baking, and working on a business plan that would enable me to sell bread to a wider audience and still have time to pursue other interests.
I’m leaning toward something known as a “community-supported bakery” which would supply bread on a subscription or as-needed basis through an online or text-based ordering system. This would eliminate some of the guesswork inherent in running a bakery that relies solely on walk-in trade, which in turn would conserve precious resources and time. But I still need a baking space outside my home with the room, equipment, and regulatory sanction to service customers of all types.
But no matter what happens on the bakery front, I look forward to again be selling Smittybread and connecting with former and new customers at the West Lafayette Market on May 4. See you there!
My town’s final farmers market of 2015 was short but sweet. During the special two-hour event held the day before Thanksgiving in West Lafayette, I managed to sell all of my sourdough hearth breads and quite a few straight-yeasted “brown and serve” rolls. I also renewed acquaintance with some of my regular customers I hadn’t seen for weeks.
Overall it was a great experience, with the exception of a stiff breeze that made it seem chillier than it was, and notwithstanding the fact I could have been better prepared for the sale and the weather.
The day got off to a rocky start when I got ready to mix my first dough, a sourdough rye, and discovered I was out of caraway seed and nearly out of salt. This necessitated a trip to the nearest grocery, which was selling small plastic vials of caraway for $5.39 per 0.9 oz. At that rate it would take $11 of caraway to bake six loaves of rye. There’s a limit to the price I will pay for my own stupidity. I drove to the next “big box” store down the road and found caraway at half that price.
One issue: I was out of synch. The last regular West Lafayette Farmers Market had been Oct. 28 so I had a four-week hiatus from baking in volume. Moreover I wasn’t sure what to bake for the sale. Would there be a mad rush of market-starved customers, or just a trickle? My guess was we’d have a lot of regulars show up but not much in the way of additional traffic, and I didn’t want to have a lot of unsold bread at the end of the day.
I decided not to make baguettes, which are good sellers but a lot of trouble to make with my equipment. I also decided not to make a 10-grain rye sourdough, my least popular bread. I cut back on the volume of loaves but increased my quantity of rolls. I made about 60 sourdough rolls and about 100 brown-and-serve honey wheat rolls, packaging them six to a bag and 10 to a bag, respectively. They sold for $5 a bag.
The process of deciding what to make, how many, and what to charge is one the most challenging and, if done right, rewarding aspects of my “job.” It involves risk assessment, knowledge of past sales, an eye on the weather and a willingness to try new things. If done well, good planning for market is rewarded with good sales and few leftovers. It gives you a warm feeling inside knowing that your customers value your product and your efforts, and it keeps the job interesting.
About an hour before the 3 p.m. opening bell, I started packing the car for the five-minute trip to the market. Normally I would start earlier, but for this abbreviated market I was not planning on setting up a tent, hand-washing station or sign. I did, however, need to have a folding table, and when I went to the garage to retrieve the folding table it was missing (The table, that is). I’d failed to remember we’d taken the table across town to use at a halloween party and never brought it back.
Also, I hadn’t yet retrieved cash to make change. This trip to the bank and to retrieve the table took an additional 30 minutes on top of packing, so by the time I got to market around three minutes to 3 p.m. all the other vendors were set up and customers were waiting. Fortunately the market manager placed me in a vacant stall right at the entrance, a location easy to get to and highly visible.
A stiff breeze greeted me as I set up my table, and as soon as I began placing bread on it a handful of pre-labeled plastic bags went flying down the center aisle. I got some help chasing them down and soon was too busy with sales to worry about how foolish I must have looked.
About an hour into the sale I was running low of sourdough but had plenty of brown-and-serve rolls left. With 30 minutes to go I had nothing left but brown-and-serve rolls. Compared to their heartier sourdough cousins, these dinner rolls paled in comparison, and I think a couple customers bought them either out of pity or because I had nothing else left.
As 5 o’clock neared, I was hopping on my toes attempting to keep warm. Because I’d left the house in a hurry, I’d forgotten to wear a coat or hat. My sleeveless sweater and flannel shirt would have been sufficient were it not for the breeze and the fact that this time of year the sun is dipping rather low around 5 o’clock.
A couple of things mitigated my discomfort. One was a pocketful of money to take home instead of half-full bread bins. And the warm reception I got from both returning customers and new ones made me realize just how much I’d missed selling bread the past few weeks. One of my regular customers, after going to his car with his purchase, actually walked back to my booth just to say that he and his wife really like my bread and wanted me to know they appreciated me being at the market.
What could I say except thanks from the bottom of my heart. And thanks to the folks at the West Lafayette Farmers Market for giving me the opportunity to sell my breads to an appreciative group of customers.
As I pen this reminder of this coming Wednesday’s pre-Thanksgiving Farmers Market in West Lafayette, a light snow is steadily flocking the trees and blanketing the grass outside my kitchen window. It’s a lovely sight, and a reminder that there’s little time to waste as we get ready for what traditionally is the biggest feast of the year.
As you stock up for Thanksgiving, please note there will be vendors gathered at the West Lafayette Farmers Market off North Salisbury Street for one last fling of the year from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. Nov. 25. It will be an ideal time to pick up some locally made or grown items to share with your Thanksgiving guests.
Smittybread will be there rain, snow or (hopefully) shine. I will have on hand the following baked goods:
Sourdough rolls: 6 to a bag for $5
Brown-and-serve honey wheat rolls, 8 to a bag for $5.
Pan Au Levain, 1-pound loaves for $5.
Large sourdough boule (25 % whole wheat) for $6.
Seeded sourdough oval loaves, $7.
Rye sourdough with caraway, $7.
The brown-and-serve rolls will be sold frozen and can be thawed overnight or kept in the freezer until you are ready to use them. Once thawed, they brown up in just a few minutes. If baked frozen, they take just a little longer.
All of the sourdough breads have a shelf life of a few days, or they can be frozen in an appropriate freezer bag until ready for use.
Hope to see you at the West Lafayette Farmers Market, if not this coming Wednesday then Spring 2016. Until then I’ll be working on a business plan, honing my baking skills, shoveling snow and working on a few new formulas such as 100% whole wheat sourdough, gluten-free sourdough bread, ciabatta and possibly whole wheat croissants.
If and when I can find a suitable winter kitchen (the garage is a bit cold this time of year) I will take bread orders. If you are interested in buying bread over the winter, send an email to me at email@example.com and let me know what you are interested in.
The downpour of rain that had been forecast for the nearly season-ending West Lafayette Farmers Market yesterday failed to materialize. In its place a cold front blew the rain sideways and then finally out, like a gust of breath blowing out a candle. Meanwhile, I and a few other hardy vendors braved the cold, wet fury, hanging on to our EZ up tents with each gust as well as to our hopes that the day would not be a complete washout. Fortunately, it was not.
The miserable conditions fit my mood. After taking a week off baking last week, I was finding it difficult to get back into the swing. Luckily my starters were more enthusiastic. I started feeding my rye and white starters steadily last week, giving them once-daily, then twice-a-day feedings over the weekend. They were growing like crazy by the time Monday came around and it was time to start building the sourdoughs, sponges and levains for baking on Tuesday and Wednesday.
On Monday the weather forecast was ominous. Hurricane Patricia was over Texas and pushing a large moist low-pressure system up our way. Not know what the hurricane remnants would hold for us Hoosiers by market day, I left caution to the wind (so to speak) and stuck with the game plan that had been bringing me success up to the time I took a week off to go camping. I made the following:
12 loaves of what I call Lafayette Sourdough, which are 25% whole wheat boules (24 oz each)
16 pain au levain, which are 16-ounce batards, mostly unbleached white flour with a hint of whole rye
16 baguettes (not sourdough but a well-fermented and very tasty white bread, again with a hint of whole rye)
6 seeded sourdough oval loaves
6 multigrain sourdough oval loaves
6 40% rye oval loaves, also sourdough
24 croissants, approximately half classics and half pain au chocolat
30 sourdough rolls (bags of 5 each).
Admittedly, that’s not a lot of bread for a standard bakery, but for my home-based bakery, churning out three or four loaves every 30 minutes, it’s a lot, especially when you consider the variety of stuff in the list. Every bread there except the baguettes and croissants relies on the vagaries of wild yeast and environmental conditions, not to mention timing, accurate measurement and what I call baker’s mojo.
I could write a chapter on mojo. Besides confidence and knowledge, its the presence of mind to stay focused so that if something goes wrong it can be quickly fixed.
Example: I make pain au levain from scratch the morning of the farmers market. It’s 100% naturally levained, meaning it takes its own sweet time. The kitchen was 63 degrees, not unusual for a fall morning but cold for sourdough. I heated up the mixing bowl and the water and proceeded to mix at 6:15 a.m. with plans to bake at 11 a.m.
Turns out the dough was too wet, so I added 2 oz. of flour and mixed some more. It still was slack. At this point the mixer had been going four or five minutes, and the dough was surpassing the 76-degree mark I aimed for. Adding more flour to the mixer would risk damaging the gluten, so I turned the entire blob onto the work bench and proceeded to mix by hand. Anyone who has tried to mix 20 pounds of slack dough by hand can appreciate how difficult that is. I managed to work in another 30 grams or so of flour while getting in some decent kneading until it was manageable enough to lift into the fermentation tub in one mass.
Over the next three hours I folded it three more times, and the dough came together. By 9:30 a.m. it was ready to divide, rest and shape like nothing had happened.
So what did happen? A glance at my iphone told me that along with the cloudy skies and rain, the humidity had gone from extremely low from the last time I baked (during a prolonged Fall dry spell) to 98 percent by Wednesday morning. I had not taking that extra moisture in the flour and air into account, but at least I had the presence of mind to not panic and just work out the problem. The resulting loaves were some of the best I’ve made.
But by Wednesday afternoon that was all looking pretty moot. Half of the vendors or more took a bye, calling it quits on the season rather than risking a washout. Those of us who remained looked at the sky, exchanged grim smiles with each other and prayed that customers would eventually show up. At least one vendor’s tent collapsed in the wind, and they packed up early.
The market manager came by and asked my opinion on closing early. My view was we’d come this far, let’s stick it out and see what happens. After 30 minutes passed without selling even a croissant, someone finally came up and bought one baguette. Then another. Before long, the rain stopped and the temperature dropped, marking the arrival of the cold front. Customers began showing up in twos and threes, and before long I had a pretty decent run of sales that lifted me out of my funk and sent me home with money to pay the bills.
While it was the end of the regular weekly farmers markets in West Lafayette, many of the vendors will get together one more time this year for a pre-Thanksgiving sale. That sale will be from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. Wednesday Nov. 25. I’m planning on bringing some brown-and-serve rolls, sourdough loaves and other goodies. Maybe I’ll see you there. Happy holidays!