Part two in our mini-series on bakers and microbakers
In February 2020, Tamara Smith flew across the Atlantic to join us for a week in Sparkwell, learning to ‘think like a baker’ and becoming our dear, life-long friend. Here, in her own words, she shares the story of her baking journey, and how she and her husband – The Baker’s Man – are making a baking dream come true in the town of Northport, WA.
[Text and pictures are copyright Tamara Smith and are republished with kind permission. Please follow Small Batch SOURDough on Facebook for further updates to this inspiring story.]
“They say that sourdough is the gateway drug that lures the home baker into back yard chickens, milk goats and spotted small pigs! And it’s true.
These pictures preserve my blossoming romance with the ancient tradition of sourdough baking. They were taken in 2019.
We were homesteading on 4 acres with 5 kids and a whole lot of critters. Every moment was a learning opportunity and seemingly every flat surface in my home was littered with various versions of “hobby farming how-to’s” and “back to the basics” books. It was lovely. It was hard work. It was worth all of it. Simple. Slow. Intentional. Connected to tradition. Basically good. It was sourdough that caught my attention. What is this thing that has lasted eons? It enticed me and held fast to the desires in my heart. And so it began…
From Spokane to Sparkwell
Saving my small profits from selling these sourdough loaves to neighbors and providing fresh goat milk to mamas with newborn babies, I reached out to Penny and Dragan at The Artisan Bakery School in Sparkwell, England. Our email correspondence resulted in a 6-day crash course on “everything they know” about bread. I wanted ancient knowledge. Timeless techniques. History. Philosophy. And I wanted heart. I wanted to be in the presence of the master. And that is what I got! Plus so much more!
I departed Spokane Airport on Valentine’s Day 2020, and returned home February 26th while the world literally shut down behind me (Covid). I had a ball of sourdough starter (named ‘Sparkwell’) tucked safely in my carry on bag. And my mind was whirling with all the knowledge and resources made available to me. But my heart. Sigh… my heart was aching for having left a small piece of it at the Olde Home Cotttage at the end of the lane. That ache in my heart has been a constant, quiet reminder that I know things about real bread and I must share this with my community. It also comforts me, because when there is grief, there must have been love. Where there is love, there is belonging. And I belong in Sparkwell. Just as I belong in my little town of Northport. This sourdough thing is much more than a hobby or a job or something I am good at doing. It’s a purpose. A calling. A mission. A song I must sing. A canvas I must paint. A dance I must allow. I simply cannot ignore it.
The following months of 2020 were full of unrest in the world around us but things on the home front were exciting.
I baked my little heart out, trying all my new recipes from Sparkwell. In the midst of horrifying home haircuts, family-only birthday parties and squirmy little piglets arriving right on time, my kitchen was flooded with sourdough! I situated my fermenting dough in and amongst the family refrigerator at night and I baked 2 loaves at a time in my Dutch ovens. It took me 12 hours of baking to produce 14 loaves!
The Baker’s Man has replaced my propane kitchen stove 5 times since then. I suppose 500 degrees for extended periods of time is a bit much for the old girls. Those days are gone but not forgotten in the least. The interest around me grew and I was soon providing loaves regularly for a few close friends. It was fun to think about the meals being planned to accompany these fresh loaves each week. I made just enough money to buy more flour after each bake.
I have yet to see anything but a smile when I share this bread with another person. Big or small. Young or old. You all smile. And then I smile. Smiling is light and soft and open. It lifts up and allows. It is contagious and simple to do. Perhaps you find yourself smiling while you read this? I am smiling as I write it, for sure. How fun it was to bake bread that I could share with others and produce such happiness. Even if it wasn’t perfect. And my ovens were burning up. And my fridge was over crowded. And my kitchen was covered lovingly in a thin layer of white flour dust. Even if it was hard… it prepared me for this time right now.
The Break Up
Like any love story worth telling, there was a break up. It was the old “it’s not you, it’s me” line. And, to be honest, there was another lover. Hog raising, animal husbandry and meat processing caught my attention. The science of slow cure and dry aging was my particular crush. And I loved it! I scooted my trusty starter further and further back in my refrigerator and barely tended to its basic need for survival. And I mean barely. I was preoccupied with this intriguing concept of farm to table and my sourdough flame flickered in the dark. The kids were only getting bigger and more involved in the world around us and I simply did not make time for much else. I did coax a rather disgruntled loaf or two out of my starter once in a while. Even in the midst of neglect and outright rejection.. the life was always there in that starter. How lucky I am to have had such unwavering gallantry in a jar … in my fridge… just waiting….
Life is Art
My thoughts began untangling during my next phase of life. I took more time for sunsets or a calm fall afternoon. We hand-cranked sausage links from antique cast iron. I cooked with the kids using ingredients from our own barn yard. My sourdough spoke to me, it whispered and invitation to create art. To slow down and make it pretty. Simply for pretty’s sake. I learned to calm my mind while I mixed the dough. I listened more than I spoke and really, really liked what I began to hear. I got my first tattoo of the kids playing on the beach of the Columbia River. A river that had washed away so many of my ears and brought with it abundant life! I had the word ‘namaste’ inscribed below the silhouette of my darlings. The light in me was beginning to see the light in you. And my sourdough was responding! Life is art. We are creators of our own destiny. I began dreaming and longing again. What was it that I really, truly wanted… And could I actually have it?
Stepping Out
I began feeling most fulfilled when I was in service to others. It brought deep and lasting satisfaction. We catered weddings, put the kids in sports, attended local events and gatherings and began putting ourselves out there. I was hired on at Bull Hill Guest Ranch as a cook and my creativity and culinary expressions were not reined in on that mountain. Man, we had fun! Less time pouring over that stack of homesteading books and more time face to face with the world around us. And it felt good. Sourdough was forever near. And I began regularly mixing and shaping and baking and selling again …
Let it Be
I’ve heard it said that what we aren’t changing, we are choosing. So I changed everything. I said goodbye. I let go. I allowed and I wondered about what I really wanted. I made our new place a home. I made my new neighbors my friends and I waited. I fed and nurtured my starter and the first loaves I baked in our new home were beautiful, round sunflower loaves! Then I dreamed up this idea of opening a little bakery in town….
Listening
It was the early morning of my 44th birthday (12-02-22) when my deceased mother visited me in a dream. In the dream, she was excited to see my new building, and old rundown house on Center Avenue in Northport. So I showed her the house and she walked through the front room and turned to look at me from the kitchen. With a twinkle in her eye and a knowing look on her face, she said, “You know just bought your bakery, don’t you?” I woke up that winter morning to a fresh blanket of snow and a house full of sick teenagers. They weren’t really sick, just crabby, lay-around-the-house kind of sick. So I took off to Rossland BC, just across the border. As I strolled the magical wonderland of that darling little town, I was struck by the long line of people I saw. My curious eyes followed the chatting and excited line of folks all bundled up and waiting. Waiting for what? For whom? Then I saw it. The blue and white iconic sign for Hoopers Bakery. It opened at noon and the time was 11.25 am. The dream from earlier that morning came sweeping back through my mind and this time it landed somewhere very deep in my heart. A bakery. In Northport. A line of happy people waiting for my fresh, sourdough loaves. This was it. This was what I had been looking for. Or had it been looking for me, all along ….?
In Over My Head
Before I could blink, I found my little self in meetings with property owners, business guys, real-estate brokers, loan officers, bank managers and financial advisors. My head was spinning with business plans, projected sales, permits and inspection. Negotiations and offers and price points and bottom lines filled my inbox. Down payments. Collateral. Refinancing. Lease agreements and law offices. Title companies and insurance agents. I was so far in over my head, I found myself holding my breath. But there is no life without breath. I needed help. I needed guidance, counsel and expertise. I needed wisdom and encouragement and friendship. I needed someone to remind me of the goal and my “why”. And so, the right people showed up at the exact right time and I learned to breathe. I learned to breathe underwater… and you know, it’s pretty fantastic. I found a measure of peace deep inside as I witnessed this dynamic team of people form around me. Inspections were passed. Agreements were made. Resources were available. Contracts were signed. All as a result of taking that breath. Staying under water. Trusting the journey and allowing.
Ain’t She Purdy?
Then I knew I had to have an oven. A real bread oven. The Baker’s Man had replaced 5 kitchen ovens for me so far and this madness had to end. During a long day of monotonous tasks at work, I hatched a brilliant plan. It was St Patty’s Day last year that I sent emails to about 60 of my closest friends, family and bread lovers. I opened a membership plan called The BreadWinners 2023. The fee was $100 and the benefit was a year’s worth of reduced bread and purchases once I was baking weekly with my new oven! I raised $4,800 in 8 days! Just a couple hundred more than I need to order my first Pico Plus Chandley Oven! What a lucky girl I am! I was elated and we turned the house upside down with new wiring and install. Thanks, men! My bread production jumped from 2 loaves every 45 minutes to 22 loaves every ½ hour. I cried. I danced. I laughed. I fell in love with this oven. I name her Purdy, because ain’t she? Word got out and there was no looking back to the Dutch ovens in my home kitchen.
SBSD – Small Batch SOURDough- Was Born
It was a comfort to know that I didn’t have to do it all myself. I now had a team and I could start really working on my part. My part was the dough. Both the kind we like to have in our pockets and the soft, bubbly, bouncy kind that magically turns into bread after applied heat. And holy moley, did I have fun! My logo was designed and I started a notebook of recipes, formulas, notes, ideas, mistakes and questions. If I wasn’t stretching and folding, I was sure thinking about it. The customer list just kept growing and the joy in my heart did too! I have likened the entire process to the experience of being pregnant. This part felt like finding out for certain that there was a baby on the way. (I’m quite happy this is a beautiful analogy and NOT my actual reality at this point in my life lol). It was thrilling. The sheer joy and curiosity and wonder was compelling, like a force of energy charging ahead through the unknown. Absolute blissful fearlessness…
Every time I saw Small Batch SOURdough in print, my heart fluttered. It still does today. This dream was coming to life. My customer base grew beyond my little town as I was able to organize online orders and deliveries. Some of you picked up in alley ways, parking lots and off my tailgate on your lunchbreak. Lol fun times! We closed on the property on 06-22-2023 and things got dirty. Literally dirty. So much dirt and rocks and concrete and mud. The loaves kept comin’ as The Baker’s Man broke ground.
My baking days were the most happy I had been in quite some time. My recipes were coming together. I was trying new ideas and creative combinations. I could hardly eat a meal without wondering if, somehow, this could be a loaf. Reuben Sandwich. Ham and Cheese. Olive Oil and Red Pepper. Berries and Cream. Zucchini Bread. Pears and Walnut. Apples and Pepper Jack. Roasted Garlic and Sun-dried Tomato. Huckleberry and White Chocolate. Yellow Raisins and Coconut. Pecans and Apricots. Feta and Dill. Sausage and Black Olives. Cherries and Lavender. Cranberries and Orange. Lemon and Poppyseed. Green Olives and Herbs. The creation was endless. It was as if there were no bottom to that barrel. I worked on collecting the perfect sized bins for the perfect amount of dough. I studied that use of cold temperatures and warm environments and how it challenged my dough. I experimented with an abundant amount of flours. I spent a lot of time with Purdy. It became quite clear that one oven was no longer adequate.
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Let’s go!
Interior walls started going up. Boards were painted and run through a planer. Ceiling tiles were installed. The trim. Oh, dear Lord, the trim. So. Much. Black. Trim. Miles and piles and loads of labor went into the following months. It was all hands on deck only all the hands had lots of other decks they were managing at the same time. Early mornings, late evenings, weekends and a growing belief in our own dream motivated every single effort. Plus, we had good company and cold beers. We made progress every day. Some more than others, but we were on our way…
Purdy Number 2!
As colder weather began approaching, the demand for these loaves of sourdough increased massively. All the soups and the crockpot meals were hitting kitchens around my community and they needed the bread. Every week I’d look around my kitchen after filling all the orders and think “I really need another oven.” So I opened my membership again. This time, it took about a month, but we raised half the amount of the second oven and Small Batch was able to match it. Purdy Number 2 was on her way…
Horses & Carts
If I were to jump into another project like this (which I am sure I will!), I would have been more realistic about the time and skilled labor it was all going to take. The cart got hurried out in front of the horse on several occasions and it slowed down the progress quite a bit. Somehow we managed to stay on task and have a bit of fun along the way. A large wall was built to divide the space between the coffee shop and the salon. All the plumbing and wiring went into the wall as well. The old walk-in cooler space out back was renovated for an office. And the hallway to the second exit door and the bathroom was in place. My home kitchen was overrun with Pumpkin Swirl Bread and Holiday Dinner Rolls! I hand-shaped and baked 2,880 rolls during the holiday season. Y’all LUV-D them! I was able to hire on my niece for some part-time help and she was a delightful game-changer to Small Batch! Two ovens, two sets of hands, two thousand pounds of flour and we were killin’ it.
Here Come the Holidays!
We finally signed papers on our loan for the remodel. Every penny invested to that point had been our very own and it was a stretch. We had a flooring party on my 45th birthday and two days later The Baker’s Man and I sent our oldest girl off to basic training for the Air Force. The future was simultaneously foreboding and outrageously bright! We didn’t sleep much that month. The weight of so many things seemed to prop itself up on my chest as I laid down in my warm bed. I fought some internal battles and let some things truly go… the sun always comes up. Nothing lasts for ever. We all made it through December (and most of January).
The Northport Corner Shoppe
I named the building The Northport Corner Shoppe back in January 2023 when I opened the LLC (Limited Company). The building is on a busy corner in town so the name made sense and would be easily remembered. I also love the old black and white film “Shoppe Around The Corner”. So I played on some words and came up with the name. I think it suits the location and the building well. Throughout time the businesses will like change configurations inside, but the name will remain. Colville Sign printed out the logo and The Baker’s Man built a frame. We recruited the help of our boys to hang her up on an icy, snowy day. We just couldn’t wait! Hanging the sign felt important and final.
It’s funny how you can be “all in” on a project and then one small part will stand out with more significance than the rest.
The old sign was carefully removed and disassembled and will be used in new business ventures elsewhere. It stood faithfully and proudly for many years, as did the people in this town that supported the business it represented. I love hearing the stories and creating a space where the memories can be shared of time spent at Marylou’s Café and The News Café and the Mustang Grill. Some of you can recall walking in as a small child when it was the US Customs and Immigration Office. History is important. Memories are crucial to preserving and carrying on traditions. Your memories and stories of time spent in this old building deepens the meaning and brings richness to our mission of service to the community. So keep coming in. And keep sharing those stories!
Christmas was full of mini loaves and gift boxes. Reels of ribbon and stickers. Gift cards and order forms. Receiving and giving. Dirty bread pas and stack of empty flour sacks. Nice bottles of wine. Holiday treats. Old movies and a brand new vinyl record of Andre Bocelli. I carved out a little time before the ball dropped, to express my deepest gratitude to 2023. It was the most fantastic, unearthing, exhilarating and terrifyingly wonderful year! 2024 is shaping up to go even further.
Now that the salon was open and the coffee shop was well on their way, we turned our focus on the bakery. The commercial kitchen space is a little less than 400 square feet. So we have every inch, nook and cranny accounted for as usable space. We removed the old wall coverings, finished up the plumbing and electrical and started gathering equipment! I’ve witnessed more genius engineering with forklifts, ratchet straps and determined men than I care to admit.
Bakery equipment is nothing but heavy. Sinks, refrigerators, mixers, slicers, ovens and cooling racks were being bought, loaded, hauled and then laid in waiting with anticipation. The new wall covering parts and pieces were on sight and a small stack of laminate flooring was piled next to it. New light fixtures were picked up and the swinging saloon doors finally arrived! But we had to put it all hold. We had things to celebrate in Texas as our girl made her way triumphantly past the finish line of Basic Training in the United States Air Force! After filling 300 orders, I closed down all bread baking. After working 80 hours a week, The Baker’s Man set down his tools. And we headed south for 5 days. I am glad we did! Our kids are a part of this life journey and we needed that pause. We needed to remember.
Just gonna build the wall
As southern and charming as The Baker’s Man may seem, his heart has some heavy metal rock n’ roll in it. He knows all the albums. All the dates. All the stats on all the bands. And so does our oldest daughter. This metal wall covering install is daunting on some levels, but it also makes him feel right at home. Sharp edges. Loud grinders. Drill bits. Rivet guns. Just gonna build the wall….
21st February 2024
Not much on my camera roll to report this morning, but things are moving along for Small Batch SOURdough. Some days we just dig our roots in deeper. We reach further down than ever before. Looking for the tether. Searching for the grounding rod. We get more clear. More settled. We breathe and reimagine the dream.
The strength and support is always there. It’s under all the conventional thinking. The programming. The common sense and the cultural way. The support is in pause. In the stillness. In the compassion and service to others. It’s always in us. It is us.“
© Tamara Smith