As ancient as it is essential, as vital as it is delicious, bread is so often the first delight of the day: a still-warm crust cut thick for breakfast or, endlessly appealing, toasted and spread generously with butter and a spoonful or two of honey or marmalade. At lunch or dinner, no bowl of soup can be considered without bread and, more often than not, the first thing offered at table – at home, at a friend’s, in a restaurant – is bread, sometimes on an almost judgemental level. Should the bread be good, bonhomie surges and, sure as eggs are eggs, a fine repast will follow.
With the burgeoning number of restaurants in recent decades, the quality of produce has soared. Ingredients are taken as seriously as cooking itself, judged on seasonality, locality, sustainability, flavour and quality. Dairy, cheese, wine, fruit and vegetables sit high on these lists, but bread follows close behind, having taken a little longer to step from the shadows.
It is hard to imagine a time when the only sourdough loaf available in Britain was made by Poilâne in Paris, sold in a handful of cheese shops or imported directly, such as those delivered to Bibendum in the late 1980s. Before that, and well before the rise of the supermarket giants, every high street held a baker or two. Indeed, the Dundee I grew up in during the Sixties and Seventies had numerous bakeries and grocers where folk could pull up in their car every day, dash in and leave with a white pan loaf that delighted generations – little realising it was made from flour stripped of its nutrition by processing. Ah, those ham sandwiches. Those cheese toasties. That bacon bap.
But rumblings had already begun about processed foods and bulk-baked cheap bread. The organic movement, long dismissed as faddish – perhaps even Marxist – was gathering force. The same energies that rescued British farmhouse cheese from near extinction were now extolling artisan bread.
It is a simple truth that a good cheesemonger always has good olive oil, vinegar, eggs and, of course, bread. Pioneering merchants such as La Fromagerie and Neal’s Yard Dairy, inspiring so many others, always seemed to stock the best loaves from the latest, greatest new bakery. No longer only Poilâne, but Little Bread Pedlar, Jolene, E5 Bakehouse, St John, Clarke's, Quince Bakery and more, began to take the place of the high street bakers of yore.
In recent years, dormant London boroughs have reawakened. Failing markets – first Borough, then Hackney and other eastern boroughs, alongside those south of the Thames – have flourished. A fundamental truth prevails: where there are good things, folk flock; where there are good things, communities thrive. Beside a good coffee shop, there is usually a good baker with a queue outside and a happy melée of people tucking into buns, pastries, sandwiches or tearing shards from a loaf. ’Tis a sight that never fails to please. And what was once a choice between white or brown now sparks a volley of questions:
‘What flour is in a Hackney Wild?’
‘Is this made with einkorn or YQ?’
‘Why does this flour have such a short shelf life compared to regular?’
The loaves now sought, bought and devoured are respected, even revered, for their commitment to soil, tradition, organic flours, sustainable farming, sound practices and, of course, the tremendous skill working with these wild flours demands. The influence of pioneers such as Alice Waters at Chez Panisse – cooking seasonally with beautiful produce, championing growers and bakers like the Acme Bread Company, forerunner of Tartine in San Francisco – has rippled worldwide.
Steeped in European traditions, sourdough has ascended; its dark crust and recognisable form prized by bakers such as Ben Glazer at Coombeshead Farm in Cornwall, maker of a peerless loaf and, curiously, only one other – a malt loaf, sadly available solely at the farm. Elsewhere, Wakelyns in Suffolk, home to Silva Bakery, grows rare wheats between avenues of trees; the grain is milled at Gilchesters and baked on site in a stone oven built by the bakers themselves. ’Tis a heart-warming tale, and the bread superb.
Once, white bread from the most refined flours was reserved for the wealthy to consume as small rolls and delicate sandwiches. Now such bread is frowned upon, and it is the darker hued sourdoughs that are sought after – flours rich with husk and bran, doughs vigorous and alive, shaped from an ever-widening variety of grains that define modern bread.
The incredible list of bakeries plying their trade across the British Isles is impressive. The only worry is that with so many newcomers, many get bopped off the list for lack of room. All the more reason to shop local, to support a good baker, for in doing so one supports farmers, soil and community. ’Tis a happy thought when spreading a slice of toast.
Britain’s 50 Best Bakeries in partnership with Square announced 24 March. Become a member to find out who makes the list.
