Food. It fuels our bodies, inspires our minds, and comforts our spirits. Sometimes it goes beyond the primal need to nourish. Food can become flavor-fueled obsession. This is my story.

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I discovered fragrant, hot baguettes at my local grocer as a young child. In that everyday treasure, my mother built a new way to love me. If I'd had a rough day, she would allow me to bite straight off the end of the loaf. Savoring the caramelized crust and exposing its soft lacy crumb would elevate my spirit like nothing else. We would sit together — my mom, the baguette and me — and talk. Flour, salt, water and yeast was all I needed to feel heard, seen and understood — a potion for healing. It was magical.

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After giving birth to my daughter, I needed to channel energy while home alone. I felt isolated, so I turned to bread making. It was a sort of therapy for me (again).  I could make something beautiful, I could watch something grow. I could share nourishment and love. There's magic in the community created when sharing tasty morsels. It’s comforting soul food. Bread is crumbly love. 

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I love the idea of creating a space for others to come for respite. I want to be able to share a feeling of coming home. That’s what bread has always meant for me. My soul has been soothed — as a daughter, as a mother, and now as a baker. Who doesn’t relish that soft middle ground that comes when you bite through life's crusty exterior? It’s where the fears and failures of life melt into familiar feelings of growth and community.

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That is where I most love to be, and it’s what I’m trying to put inside everything I bake. That sounds fanciful, and it is.

But it’s also real — so real you can taste it.