An Artisan Baker Talks of his Craft
As the mass-marketing of the word “artisan” begins to pick up speed – see Friendly’s new menu, if you’re not convinced of that – scratch bakers once again have the chance to mull over what it means to call a particular bread or bakery just that. There are those who don’t really care how their product is classified; there are others who classify themselves “artisan” under only the loosest of definitions. And there are bakers like my wife and me, who put the word “artisan” right in the name of their bakery.
We tried to think of other ways to describe what we do, but in vain. We had discussions describing what we did, took pages of word-association notes, mocked-up sign designs, and we kept landing on the same word. We knew that some bakers see the word as cliché and as non-descriptive as the word “gourmet” (“artisan’s” Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come), and that some consumers might view it as slightly pretentious.
(We also figured that some would read it as “Artesian Bakers,” but we didn’t figure on how many. For the record: “Artesian” refers to wells that contain ground water that is forced out of the earth without the need for pumping via underground pressure. Not a whole lot to do with baking style, it turns out.)
But in the end, it’s the word that describes what we do. We’re not artists – we don’t make art, we don’t display our product in galleries, we didn’t go to art school, and our product is designed to be eaten for sustenance and enjoyment. There are artistic elements to what we do, but at the end of the day, what artisan bakers do is a craft, a teachable trade for those who have the dedication to the lifestyle and a real enjoyment of food.
So what is it to be called – or to call oneself – artisan? It used
to be that these breads had a certain look to them – a beautiful russet
crust, a tall, proud, open burst, still dusted with flour, tasted from
the oven, gleaming with the shine that only a steam-filled oven can
produce. And that works for the most part, but what is really important
is the process of getting there. 
If you invent an automated machine that shoots out the described loaf at the press of a button, is it artisan any more?
That was rhetorical. The answer is NO.
Crafting artisan breads is about tradition, technique, personality, and locality. The first two go hand in hand; we try and use the best techniques that have been time-tested over hundreds of years in both Europe and America. We’re a communicative bunch, we like to swap formulas, ideas, and show each other our bakeries in hopes that the idea will continue to spread – not as a large, snowballing force that will allow mechanized bread factories to be viable, but so that another town will have another locally owned bakery that makes world-class bread.
It’s not about the recipe; it’s how you treat the ingredients. Your typical baguette has four ingredients: flour, water, salt, yeast. A sourdough can have those same four ingredients, so can a Ciabatta, and all three can taste and look vastly different, depending on what your hands do to those doughs over the same 18 to 24 hour period.
Artisan bakers are present in every loaf that comes out of their
ovens. A distinctive slash is the most obvious one, but a seasoned
bread taster can look at a finished loaf and see precisely how the loaf
was made – whether it was folded by hand, cooled in a bread retarder (a
cool box or walk-in refrigerator that slows down the bread’s activity)
or baked just a few hours after shaping, even what kind of preferment
the baker was using – that’s the pre-made flour and water mixture
that’s spiked with a small amount of commercial yeast or sourdough
culture. When added to a final dough after eight or more hours of
bubbling away, it gives a given bread better flavor, color,
strength, and shelf-life. Keep in mind, that’s still using just those four ingredients, no conditioners, no oils, no sugars.
There are large-scale operations that have successfully created artisan breads while remaining true to their roots. Artisan Baking in America, now updated with Artisan Baking, a wonderful book by Maggie Glezer, documents some of these, and the late Lionel Poilâne’s manufacture (not a factory, mind you) in France is a testament to the fact that it can be done. But it’s not easy, and it’s certainly not cheap, and that is what makes artisan bakers unique.
When I started training a baker to help out with our production, a family friend said “Well, as long as you know that you’re just training your future competition.” Maybe so. But if these folks I train in the craft of artisan baking find the time, the passion, and the will to open their own bakery, one that relies on tradition, technique, personality, and locality, than I consider it an investment in the future of the artisan bread industry.
-Andy King
Friendly Ice Cream Corporation “a vertically integrated restaurant company serving signature sandwiches, entrees and ice cream desserts in a friendly, family environment in 530 company and franchised restaurants throughout the Northeast,” tells us that its sandwiches are now being served on artisan bread.
Buy the updated Artisan Baking by Maggie Glezer
Buy (available used) Artisan Baking Across America by Maggie Glezer
Andy King is the co-owner, with his wife Jackie, of A&J King Artisan Bakers in Salem, MA. He is a graduate of Colby College in Waterville, ME, and the New England Culinary Institute in Montpelier, VT. While working in establishments such as Arrows Restaurant (Ogunquit, ME) and the Standard Baking Co. (Portland, ME), Andy was the food writer for the Portland Phoenix, and contributed to Downeast Magazine, The Food Network, and Bon Appetit magazine. A&J King Artisan Bakers opened in June of 2006. The couple currently resides in Topsfield, MA with their daughter, Emaline, and their dog, Griffon.