We Don’t Sell Whole Wheat Sourdough, Anymore

Having Remy has created rituals. Kids will do that. I’ve loved sinking into the everyday rhythms and rituals we’ve created. 

My favorite is the Saturday morning walk to the farmer’s market. The most anticipated item from the market, the carrot spelt loaf from La Calavera bakery. I rip off a corner and shove it in my mouth before the card is run and the receipt signed. By Sunday, the entire loaf is gone. Meredith gets a slice, I eat the rest. 

La Calavera closed their doors last week. It’s sad to watch one of your favorite makers throw in the towel.

It’s a theme I’ve been seeing a lot lately, weirdly among bakers. Running a local food business is hard. And baking is amongst the hardest.

Yesterday, I was reading Emily Wilson’s ode to LA restaurants. Which led to a meandering over to Bub and Grandma’s and a rabbit hole down their Insta. They’re amazing and seem to be super successful.

But the angst of the owner was pretty clear. It’s a brutal business.

So where am I going to get my bread?! I tried Root, but in another sign that the struggle is real, they’ve shifted their focus to pizza. When I stopped by this morning they had four sourdough loaves for sale.

They used to have at least 20 loaves and four varieties. I asked for a whole wheat sourdough. The guy at the counter said, ​“oh we don’t sell that anymore, but you can special order it if you want”. It makes sense. Pizza sells better and is easier to scale than running a full on bakery.

Baking and selling bread is hard. Selling food is hard. I tried it once and failed. I really respect those that commit to it, whether they fail or succeed.