I read an article in The New Yorker the other day about the Gig Economy. This is the world of techno-driven piecework born of rideshare apps and online freelance marketplaces. Though not directly analogous to the entrepreneurial community I inhabit—populated by farmers, artists, and craftspeople—the thesis of the article still applies: there is "a painful distance between the chipper narratives surrounding labor and success in America and the lived experience of workers." We often talk, in a tone halfway between jest and brag, about about the impossible and uncompensated hours we work, as if our scrambling, stumbling path through the maze of capitalism were a badge of honor. As if living inside an economic system that idolizes the bootstrapping entrepreneur but prioritizes price over quality, externalized costs over sustainability, GDP over equality and quality of life, has convinced us that hard and thoughtful work need not result in a living wage. Most of us accept, quietly, what compensation we can get, all the while thinking that if we just worked a little harder, a little smarter, we might reach that American promise of meritocratic success. "At the root of this [economic ideal] is the American obsession with self-reliance, which makes it more acceptable to applaud an individual for working himself to death than to argue that an individual working himself to death is evidence of a flawed economic system." I am immensely grateful to all of you who support my work. That gratitude is not lessened by my understanding that it is improbable that I will ever achieve true economic security through a business that strives to internalize every cost, to give fair compensation down the supply chain, to produce whole and healthy food. As long as ethical production is considered a luxury, as long as the Free Market and the Farm Bill bracket our food system, as long as we live in a plutocracy, the gap between the stories we tell and the lives we live will persist. I want to end this dark turn of mind with some spark of hope, some nice, manageable action that you might take without disturbing the pattern of your days. You know, the way mainstream articles about climate change often end with a cute band aid, like, "the world is ending and it's our fault, but separate your recycling and we'll all be ok!" But I am neither smart enough nor naive enough to slap on some easy solution. Our economic system is huge and complicated and hurtful, and I have no idea what we do to make it better, except to vote with our ballots and dollars and feet, even when it feels like we're waving in the dark. With worry and improbable hope, Sophie The Spring Bread Subscription starts this Wednesday. You can still sign up, if it's somehow slipped your mind despite my many reminders, until tomorrow. You can also place individual orders on the website, as per usual, for Wednesday pickup. This week it's Red & White, Mountain Rye, Oats & Honey, and of course, Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies.
The weekly Bellingham Farmers Market starts up again next Saturday, April 1. Come on down to the Market Depot between ten and three to celebrate the beginning of the market's 25th year! I woke to the heavy beat of rain, but threw myself out of bed regardless (1) and bumped and stumbled my way downstairs to my first mug of tea because TODAY is the LAST WINTER MARKET! I've been working on my dough lamination for weeks (2), but have not yet mastered the wholemeal croissant. In the meantime, I'm using the practice as an excuse to come up with new recipes for imperfectly laminated dough. This week it's Rose & Lebneh Glazed Cardamom Rolls and Orange Cream Raisin Rolls. Actually, these might become market standards, because they're both damn good. Also on the market menu: Red & White, Mountain Rye, Wild & Seedy, and the best cookies around. Turn in your Spring Bread Subscription sign-up at today and pick up a FREE LOAF.
This is the last week of the Winter Bread Subscription. You can order Red & White, Mountain Rye, Cinnamon Raisin, or a half dozen Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies (3) for Wednesday pickup. That's all for now, folks. It's time to suit up and roll out. See you soon! Sophie Owner | Baker (1) At 5am, achieving escape velocity from the warmth of my comforter requires both speed and timing: I have to be across the room, shutting off my alarm, before I'm awake enough to realize just how much I don't want to be up. (2) Laminated dough is baker-speak for croissant and puff pastry. Both are made by rolling and folding tens or hundreds of layers of butter and dough. Croissant is leavened, puff is not. (3) FYI for you chocolate lovers, the price of these decadent cookies is going up in April to match rising ingredient costs, so now is the time to stock up your cookie tin! I went walking out at Stimpson yesterday, and found in the old forest a familiar and nearly forgotten soundscape. Standing still, breathing quietly, I could hear the rain drops pattering on the sword ferns and the wind breathing between the trees. A cedar swayed with a sudden gust, groaning. Overhead, wing beats, and bird calls tangling somewhere down the hill. There were no cars, no buzzing power lines, no fly overs, no human voices. The silence was loud and alive. This, I thought, is how the world should sound. Not like the hum of appliances or the rumble of cars. Not like metal and concrete and the tinny beat of some distant stereo. This is the sound of home. The end of the Winter Bread Subscription is a mere two weeks away, and then we're diving into another ten week Bread Subscription to accompany the first ten weeks of the Bellingham Farmers Market. Sign up so you can pick up fresh bread twice a week. And for the next two weeks, every friend you sign up will earn you a FREE LOAF of bread at the farmers market. Just have them add a note with your name at checkout.
On the menu this week for Wednesday pickup: Red & White, Mountain Rye, a lovely Blue Corn polenta bread, and Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies. And don't forget that next Saturday is the third and final Winter Market! ***PSA: Sen. Doug Ericksen, R, Ferndale, is holding a Town Hall at 10 am this morning at Meridian High School, 194 W. Laurel Rd., Bellingham. Whether you support or oppose his work for the Trump administration, his Economic Terrorism bill, or his desire to reopen Cherry Point to to GPT, you should GO and let him know.*** On the menu this week are Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies, Red & White, Mountain Rye, and a loaf for the birds: Wild & Seedy. W&S is a farmer's market favorite, with umami and crunch from toasted, organic sesame, sunflower, and flax. Order now for Wednesday pickup. And while you're there, sign up for the Spring Bread Subscription! I often take my bike commutes as a small window in my day to think, uninterrupted by obligation or screens. This past week I was pedaling through thoughts of the ups and downs of small business ownership. Do I want to own a business? The answer, I can say with increasing confidence, is 'Yes.' I want the independence and challenge. I want to make simple, beautiful food, and to make it right, without compromising my values for someone else's profits. I want to make a living while living and working well.
But should I own a business? This is less easily answered. I have no doubt that I can fully master any technical skills, whether baking or bookkeeping, given time and practice. But learning the soft skills is more difficult. I have so little Hustle—what my business books call Tradeskill—that potent combination of charm, confidence, persistence, and intuition. We, as a culture, have a conflicted relationship with Hustlers. In panhandlers, politicians, and car salesmen, it's proof of untrustworthiness, of ill-intent. "Salesman" becomes pejorative, becomes Shylock, grasping and greedy, demanding his pound of flesh. But occasionally, in entrepreneurs and the rare, respected statesman, we understand Hustle as vision and charisma, as leadership. Somewhere between the caricatured Jewish banker and Steve Jobs must be space for an honest Hustle, for the ability to understand people and their desires, to connect with customers as neighbors, rather than consumers, to sell hard because you believe fully in your work and know that others will be better for it. Learning to do this, I think, would be the essential step between being a good baker and being a good bakery owner. Now, where on earth do I begin? I hope you find time to move outside this weekend, whether or not it leads you to existential contemplation. Sophie Owner | Baker |
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