I know my last blog post dealt heavily with the importance of bread and introduced the newly minted philosophy of “better than bread,” but I’m not ready to shut up about bread; not yet. Bread is important to me. If bread isn’t important to you too, I don’t think we can be friends. While, for many, the word Thanksgiving conjures up images of Norman Rockwell-esque turkeys and family around a table, I argue that this holiday ought to make us all think of bread. When it comes down to it, bread does all the heavy lifting on this holiday. While cornucopias of old were originally made of a real goat’s horn, then later more traditionally of wicker, social media informs us that the best cornucopias of modern day are always made of bread. Whether your household serves up pillowy warm dinner rolls with their feast, piles plates high with mountains of savory stuffing, makes objectively too much food all for the sake of leftover sandwiches, or some combination of the three: bread is ultimately the true MVP. Someone once said that Jesus once said, “I am the Bread of Life.” Christians interpret this phrase to mean that we don’t know true spiritual satisfaction unless we know Jesus. I am a complete heathen and nonbeliever. I interpret this phrase in three ways. 1) Bread is capitalized in the bible: so obviously we can all agree that bread is proper noun levels of important. 2) Good bread is a religious experience. 3) Nobody knows true satisfaction without bread in their life. Bread is the bread of life.
In the not-so-distant past, I purchased a loaf of bread from a bakery that shall not be named. (Seriously: I will take this information to my grave–probably. But I’m also easily bribable: especially if there is wine, cheese, and yummy bread involved.) I don’t even want to say what kind of loaf it was because I’m paranoid some internet sleuth will play a virtual game of Guess Who and figure out which local bakery I’m about to shit talk. But, ultimately, it was the only loaf of bread I’ve ever thrown away in my life. Y’all, I’ve had less-than-good bread before. It happens. Hell, I’ve made less-than-good bread before–more times than I’d care to admit. But the thing about less-than-good bread is that it still has potential. Whether turned into breadcrumbs or bread pudding, you can do stuff with less-than-good bread to create something that’s–at very least–good. The loaf I recently purchased was not less-than-good: it was bad. It was emphatically the worst bread I’ve ever purchased in my life and effectively turned to dough immediately upon first entering my mouth. Both the consistency and flavor were atrocious. That anyone would sell this product is, and always shall be, beyond my comprehension. (See? I can write negatively about food when I want.) I’ll tell you that it wasn’t from GK and it wasn’t from Shop260: because they never get bread wrong–those absolute carb angels. I had no choice but to throw the loaf away. Trust me, I thought exhaustively on the subject before coming to my final conclusion: there was nothing that I could do to salvage this steaming pile of shit that someone mistakenly sold as bread. Never before in my life had I thrown away bread–I abhor food waste. Even hard stale bread has merit and potential. But ingesting this trash was simply not an option. Did this loaf alone cause me to lose my faith in bread? No. Of course not. Because bread is the bread of life. We can’t let one sour bread ruin the bunch. (Okay, that turn of phrase didn’t work perfectly, but you get the picture.)
Since Thanksgiving is a holiday that celebrates a genocide, I personally no longer celebrate Thanksgiving: but I do succumb to the consumerist urge to buy a stupidly large turkey in November and cook up a nice feast for my nearest and dearest. (I keep my circle real tight these days, so read that as, “for me and my bestie.”) As someone who understands the absolute importance of bread, I obviously make sure it’s well-represented on my table. This year Shop260 showed up at my dinner in the form of my Alison-Roman-inspired super celery heavy sourdough stuffing. (Chef’s kiss! But, frankly, it’s hard to fuck up stuffing when you’re using really good bread, so I can’t take much of the credit–big thanks to Chef Rio and their brilliant team for making my meal extra special.) I did consider making a Maple Yuengling Cornbread or some sort of impressive braided challah for my table this year, but instead, I let one of my friends come through clutch with my “bread centerpiece.” To say that it was more impressive than anything I could have done on my own is a complete and utter understatement. This bread was giving. Thanks. Turkey could never.
If you live in the Fort Wayne area and have been an avid farmers’ market attendee for the past few years, you’ve probably heard of Yeasty Boy Bread Co. This is a company run by adorable husband and wife team Courtney and Kyle churning out dope breadstuffs. If you’ve only started attending markets very recently, you probably haven’t heard of them: because they’re no longer operating. Kyle had been baking for years when the pandemic struck, so he had a head start on the rest of the freshly formed sourdough enthusiasts of 2020. But, Yeasty Boy Bread Co. was still very much a business bloomed via circumstance during the pandemic. Remember back when the world was in chaos and the future looked bleak, but we all had more time to pursue our passions? So many of us have stories like this. Countless small businesses were born from the combination of extra free time provided to us by lockdown and uncertainty about our futures. (Did you know that I used to own a dog bakery?) But it’s 2023 and we’re all trying our best to persevere and move forward with our lives. Sometimes that means growing past what we once viewed as endgoals–not all small businesses survived life returning to “normal.” For some, it’s a tragedy. For others, it’s for the best and simply viewed as the next move forward in the game of life. But, let’s think for a moment about the beauty of moments–and how fleeting they can be. There goes one. Now that one is gone. There was a moment in time where Yeasty Boy Bread Co. was thriving. Courtney and Kyle were deliriously happy serving up bakes to their community. That moment has passed. There may be a moment again, in the future, where new life is breathed into this company and they dish more dreamy sourdough bakes. Then again, maybe not. Nobody can predict the future. We’ll just have to wait and see what moments have yet to come our way.
I’m sure you realize that it’s not like me to write about a defunct business–I know. But, something you also probably don’t know about me is that I’m a hopeless romantic, overly sentimental, cry-at-the-phone-book kind of pathetically soft-hearted girl. Sometimes holidays make me extra mushy–deal with it, punk. Maybe at this time of year, if we’re taking everything at face value, accepting the honest history of the holiday, and sitting with the truth of the matter, we can also take just a moment to accept some more realities. Fact: just because someone isn’t monetizing their hobby doesn’t mean that they aren’t good at it. Courtney and Kyle didn’t just forget how to make bread when they stopped operating as a business. I think, especially in the food community, there is this sense that we need to make money and have a business surrounding our craft in order for our talents to be truly validated. But, to put it in local terms: if Chef Butts wasn’t cooking at Bistro Nota, he would still be the two-time James Beard Award nominated Chef Butts. You can take the chef out of the kitchen, but you can never erase the talent. Hustle culture is lying to you. It’s okay to take breaks or to do something just because you enjoy it. So, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m writing about a currently defunct business because the people behind that business are still incredibly talented and worthy of recognition–that and when a friend supplies me with yummy bread, I turn into an utterly sappy mess and require a vessel for all of my excess feelings.
While Yeasty Boy Bread Co. might not be officially operating right now, Courtney and Kyle are still baking up the occasional batch of bread and will happily share with those close to them. This time, I was one of the lucky few to score a loaf of their latest ambition. This decadent, crusty sourdough bake was one for the books. Chocolate malted rye provided both a bold, rich flavor and a dark, striking exterior. Balanced with the subtle sweet tartness of orange juice soaked cranberries and the buttery crunch of toasted walnuts, this loaf was honestly more impressive than any of the myriad dishes that graced my table. The bread was distinctively gorgeous in a rustic, dark-romance sort of way. It made a bold statement, effectively serving as the centerpiece of my table; completely outshining the turkey I spent too much money on and too many hours prepping. I received my bread a few days after it had been baked: still fresh, but not fresh out of the oven. Despite having had ample time to cool, upon cutting into my loaf, the aroma was apparent and intoxicating. The flavor was just as divinely fulfilling as the bouquet: spanning from dark funkiness to sweet fruitiness. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a bread that was quite this complex: this is definitely one for the grownups. I can think of no better bread for making high-brow leftover sandwiches–preferably with goat cheese added. This dense, dark, decadent sourdough loaf should be a staple on all Thanksgiving tables. Perhaps, one day, it will be–if the moment is right. Until then, I’ll remain eternally grateful to have been one of the select few privileged enough to have enjoyed this unique bake. My late fall harvest feast was definitely better for it. This was really good bread, which will make really good sandwiches, and countless really happy moments. We don’t know what our future moments will look like, but still, I can’t be stopped from keeping my fingers crossed in hopes that, someday, the right moment will arise and Yeasty Boy Bread Co. will be back in action. A girl can dream, can’t she? Bread is the bread of life. And after all, if we’re not finished with viewing bread through the lens of a parable, maybe Yeasty Boy Bread Co. will rise again. (Terrible pun. My apologies. I understand if you’re groaning.) But, while I still have your attention–happy holidays, friend. I’m so grateful that you’re here on this weird and wonderful journey with me. You’ll never know just how much your kindness and support has changed my little world. Every day I am thankful to be living a life that is, above all else, so fucking delicious.
Plonk & Pleasure 
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