A Partnership with Nature

The formation of the idea behind Bittersweet started while I was running Ibis Bakery in Kansas City, MO. In the beginning years of Ibis, we focused heavily on the the process of fermentation. Using flour we purchased from a local grower, a sourdough starter, and some salt, we experimented with temperature, humidity, time, and many other variables to explore just how much nuance we could achieve in a finished loaf of bread or croissant through manipulating fermentation.

The more I learned, the more I realized no matter how specific and controlled we got, there was always a wildness to the process. I began to look at baking as a partnership between nature and the baker. Sourdough bread, in particular, wasn't something to be controlled. There were billions of microorganisms at play, and therefore the bread was something to be coaxed and brought along. It was something to be partnered with. I could tell through the bread process (or rather, the bread process would tell me), if I was frustrated or harried. On the contrary, I could see by the finished loaves if I was having a peaceful day. All of those microorganisms were responding to me throughout the process, and the bread I was making became a daily report card on the state of my being.

During this time, I was reminded of my first experience planting a garden. I was a teenager and my parents graciously let me dig up a plot of grass in their backyard and plant vegetables. I had grown up working with my dad outside, but had never planted my own food. I was on a mission to grow the best, most beautiful produce anyone has ever seen. If I saw a bug, I'd kill it. If I saw a spot on a leaf, I'd spray it. The deer wanted to munch on the greens, so I built a fence. The birds and squirrels went for the berries and tomatoes, so I put a net on top of the plants. Nature became my enemy when it came to the garden. In spite of my grandious efforts, everything kept dying. I was frustrated and discouraged. I tried for several years in a row and got enough produce to keep me hooked, but felt like nature would always win in the end.

Several gardens and many loaves of bread later, with the influence of many wonderful people, I came to realize wholeheartedly that making food and growing things wasn't about controlling the variables and the process. Nature will always win in the end. We can fight it, or we can partner with it. We get to listen and observe. If the squirrels want some tomatoes, then so be it. Why do I deserve the tomato and not the squirrel? I have learned to smile watching them sneak a perfectly ripe one and run, mouth full, up the tree to feast.