G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most men experience in one decade.  His adventures inspire the breads that we make.  One of our most popular sweets is our Chocolate Brownie Bread.  Here’s the story behind it:

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Every woman has a story about The One Who Got Away.  For many of the women I have loved I have the unfortunate pleasure of being that person.  It’s not something I have ever set out to do… it’s just that the women I fall for learn that my adventurous spirit isn’t a passing fancy after they have developed feelings for me.  By the time they realize the adventures I talk about having aren’t just dreams but are plans I’m actually developing, they have to decide whether or not they want to join me or stay in the life that they know.  Most have chosen the life that they know.  And I have become The One Who Got Away.

It wasn’t always this way.

I was a young man living in my native South Louisiana and was on the introspective journey of discovering who I was.  (I highly recommend this time of inward focus for any person in their early twenties.  It will save you from so many regrets later in life!)  I had walked away from the family business and was living in a garage… not a garage apartment but an actual garage.  I hung a hammock from the roof above the hood of my car, mounted a hot plate on the wall, bathed in a work sink, and stored my clothes in the trunk of my car.  For this glorified parking space I paid $25 a month.  I was doing seasonal work at the time, jumping from farm to farm, harvesting whatever crop was in season.  It was quiet work that allowed me to think deeply about my life’s meaning and I was also able to start saving money for a trip I wanted to take to my ancestral village in France.

My deep thinking stopped on the day I met Emily.  She was from New England and would never give me a more specific locale than that.  Her red hair and joyous spirit made my heart spin and sink at the same time.  I felt both light headed and grounded any time when she walked onto the field full of pecan trees that we were both working.  She would be my wife.  I knew it.  The money I had set aside to travel became savings for an engagement ring.

Emily and I would talk all day long about the adventures we would have together and the ones she had already been on.  She told me about hiking the Appalachian Trail and serving as a research assistant in the deserts of Nevada.  She wanted to see Thailand but I wanted to stick to English speaking countries like Malaysia… we compromised and agreed to visit a beach town in both.  She talked about the chocolates of Belgium and how she couldn’t wait to try them in an actual café in Brussels.   I took note of her love for chocolate and started working on a bread to bake for her.

We finally confessed our feelings for each other on a Friday late in November.  I had brought a thermos of coffee and, as we shared it during an early morning break from harvesting, I told her how much I loved her.  My heart exploded out of its solitary spot in my chest and pumped throughout every limb and rang like church bells in my ears when she told me she felt the same way.  Our work for the rest of the day was easy despite the cold and the constant hunching to gather pecans.

That weekend I bought a meager engagement ring and went home on Sunday to bake this bread I had been formulating in my mind.  Because Emily was allergic to dairy I had to make a totally vegetarian creation.  I used baking soda and vinegar as the leavening agents.  I folded cocoa powder into the sugar and flour.  I added chocolate chips with reckless abandon.  I wanted Emily to be transported in her mind to that Belgian café she had been dreaming of when she took her first bite the next morning.

I showed up the next morning to the field full of pecan trees with a thermos of coffee in one hand, the loaf of chocolate bread in the other, and a ring in my pocket.  As I sat and waited for Emily to arrive I noticed that all of the leaves had fallen out of the trees and our work would soon be done.  I couldn’t wait to start our travels together! 

I waited by my car until late in the morning. 

When Emily didn’t show up, I asked the land owner if she had called in sick.  He informed me that she had quit the previous Friday.  He didn’t know where she had gone or where she had been living.  She left me no note.  She gave me no message through the farmer.  She simply vanished.

My heart shrank a little that day.  I drove back to the jeweler and sold him the ring for 80% of the purchase price.  I sold my car later that week and bought a ticket to St. Etienne du Montluc.  The distant relatives I met there helped me get over Emily.  But I’ve never forgotten her.  I think about her every time I make Chocolate Brownie Bread.

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Chocolate Brownie Bread is available every day of the week between now and the end of the year.

One of the first things I learned when I started at Great Harvest is that most of us are Foodies.  It shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise, considering what we do for a living in the bakery.  If you eavesdrop on one of our conversations, you’re just as likely to hear us talking about the best way to make a gumbo or the latest episode of Top Chef (is it just us or does Kevin already have this season in the bag?) as you are to hear us talking about the bread or sweets that we make.

One culinary trend we’ve recently talked about that confounds us is Decomposition.  Decomposition is breaking down a dish into its component ingredients so that each one can be tasted individually but, when mixed, you taste the original dish.  We don’t get it.  Why make the eater work so hard and swirl everything together on their plate?  Why not just make the original dish?

I had an a-ha moment this week at the bakery.  We’re rolling out a new sandwich this week – The Pilgrim.  It’s a turkey sandwich with a cranberry relish, lettuce, tomato, and a celery/onion/sage spread.  This sandwich is a really good example of how deconstruction can work instead of being a trend to make a plate look cool.  The relish with dried cranberries and horseradish has a sweet yet tangy flavor that pairs well against the turkey.  The celery/onion/sage spread, when combined with the bread, is transformed into a stuffing.  We’ve accidentally deconstructed your Thanksgiving meal into its component ingredients and then rebuilt it in a nontraditional fashion.  When you take that first bite, you’ll feel like you’re sitting down to Thanksgiving Dinner.

The Pilgrim will be available through Christmas during regular lunch hours.  Football game and recliner aren’t provided but we will do the dishes!

(Submitted by Michelle)
As I mentioned in an earlier post, our family was fortunate to enjoy some Rocky Mountain adventures a couple of months ago (thanks to our awesome crew holding down the fort here!)  After our escapades in Colorado, we spent the second part of our trip in cool, dry Montana.  We found ourselves driving through miles and miles of golden wheat fields.  We saw farmers cutting & baling hay.  We watched combines harvesting wheat and massive sprinkler systems nurturing fields of alfalfa.  It was extra-special to us because all of our whole wheat in the bakery comes from this area!  We contract with family farms throughout Montana to bring us the finest hard red wheat in the world.

After an awesome week, our drive home consisted of 36 driving hours (over 2,000 miles) with 4 kids in a Suburban.  Thank you Dallas for that DVD player!  With lots of time on my hands, I began reading Food and Faith, a book of essays compiled by Michael Schut.  How appropriate!  Have you ever wondered where exactly the food that we eat comes from?  Who is growing our food?  This book has opened my eyes to the ecological impacts of agribusiness and how family farms are sadly being replaced by huge corporations.  I've learned about the sacramental aspect of food and the power that I have to eat responsibly!  This book has prompted me to be mindful of what I'm eating; to contemplate the work of the farmers and those who have had a hand in allowing me to eat the plate of food before me. 

Now when I eat a slice of our whole grain bread, I can see the farmers working in the fields and picture the beautiful plants that died so that I might live!

One more thing.....If you'd like to visit a family farm in our own backyard, check out Gotreaux's.  If you'd like to get your own hands in some of that fertile dirt, check out Earthshare Gardens.

This past weekend me, Seth, and J.P. went camping along the Wild Azalea Trail in Kisatchie.  We realize that a lot of you shudder when you read that sentence… the thought of sleeping on the ground, going to the bathroom in a hole, and not bathing is not your idea of a good time.  While I agree that those things are an inconvenience, camping is a great time to reconnect with nature and slow down from the hectic pace of American life.  The sacrifices are worth the rewards but there is one thing I refuse to sacrifice while I camp- good food.  I bring a wok (to cook directly on the coals of the fire), a small camping stove (to boil water for noodles or instant rice), and a French Press with me every time I go hiking and feast on meals like Duck Tikka Masala, Venison Tacos, and Thai Beef Noodle Soup. 

While the suppers are brilliant, making a great breakfast can be more of a challenge.  I could bring in eggs but then I’ve got to worry about breaking them in my pack as well as them sticking to my pots.  I have to worry about milk going sour (as well as the weight of carrying a can of evaporated milk in my pack) so that shrinks my options even further.  This past trip, however, I struck gold.

J.P. joined our group a day late and brought in some Cranberry Almond Oatmeal from the bakery as well as some Baby’s Coffee.  To say that the breakfast the following morning was brilliant is a total understatement.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with the smell of crackling twigs in the newly reignited fire.  The crunch of the almonds and the tang of the cranberries woke up our senses and kept us warm while we waited for the sun to take away the chill in the air.  I have finally found a trail breakfast that doesn’t taste like a trail breakfast!

This is Sonny Landreth.  Not only can Sonny tear up a guitar but he can tear into a California Cobb.

In case you haven't heard of Sonny, here's what NPR says about him:

In the 1970s, Landreth played a stint with zydeco king Clifton Chenier and became an in-demand session player before pursuing his own solo recording and songwriting career, starting with 1995's Outward Bound. His style and technique each expand on conventional slide-guitar methods.

And from his Wikipedia page:

Eric Clapton has said he is "probably the most underestimated musician on the planet and also probably one of the most advanced, and it puts me to shame."

And, now, from his Great Harvest page:

Sonny Landreth's California Cobb --without bacon-- is the greatest thing on sliced Honey Whole Wheat.

In her book Animal Vegetable Miracle, Barbara Kingsolver discusses the lack of an American Food Culture.  Because we can truck or fly in any ingredient from anywhere in the world, we’ve lost seasonality in our cooking.  Asparagus in Fall makes as much sense as Broccoli in Summer.

Our lovely state is one of the places that Barbara Kingsolver cites an exception.  We understand that Satsumas are only available in Fall and early Winter.  We know when we can and cannot get a sack of crawfish for a boil.  We only expect raw oysters on a menu in cold months.  We gorge on an ingredient when it is in season, savoring every morsel, and then right around the time we’re sick of it, it is out of season and we move on to the next seasonal item.

While we understand that it is frustrating for some people that we rotate our menu, we like to follow this mindset of seasonality with our breads.  That’s what makes Pumpkin Swirl, Pumpkin Bars, and Pumpkin Muffins such a joy for us to make every Fall.  Just as the weather starts to turn, you can expect to smell Cinnamon, Nutmeg, and Ginger in the air around the bakery when you walk up.  Every morning you can walk in and grab a muffin or bar on your way to work.  On Wednesdays and Fridays you can expect to see orange bread with seasonal pumpkin blended into the dough.  You can expect Manny to hand you a slice with a smile when you walk in and you can enjoy it right about the time the pumpkins are at their seasonal best.

Pumpkin Bars are available every day that we’re open.
Pumpkin Muffins and Teacakes are available with either chocolate chips or pecan pieces on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.
Pumpkin Swirl is available on Wednesdays and Fridays.

G. Harvest was a man who experienced more in one month than most men experience in one decade.  His adventures inspire the breads that we make.  This Fall we have Santa Fe Cornbread on the menu.  It's great as a sandwich bread, toasted as croutons in a Taco Salad, or served as a slice alongside soup.  Here’s the story behind it.

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I spent one summer on the Pacific coast of Mexico doing some long board surfing, spear fishing, and decompressing from the frenetic pace of American life in the town of Sayulita.  This was back when it was a sleepy little village before Gringo dollars corrupted it.  On days that I wasn’t in the ocean I took a job cooking Western dishes in a villa for the occasional High Dollar Tourists that made their way here for a vacation.  It was a great summer, with my long board riding Hurricane Fico’s massive swells and my spear slicing through more types of fish than I can name.  My food preparation in the villa was my most frustrating experience- the kitchen’s Western ingredients were limited in number.  While the guests loved my Mediterranean dishes, my French cuisine would get mixed reviews because I didn’t have access to key ingredients.

One afternoon, after riding a great set of waves in the morning, I walked into the villa’s kitchen and noticed that the atmosphere had changed.  Instead of men laughing and singing along to the AM radio, there was silence.  Everyone on staff walked quickly from post to post within the villa.  When I inquired as to why everyone was so nervous they just looked at me and said “El Magico”.  Because my Spanish was limited I thought they were saying “El Mexico” and assumed some dignitary from Mexico City was in the villa this week.  I set up my station and awaited the order, which soon came in: swordfish steaks, some South American dish I’d never heard of, a seasonal fruit salad and … bread.  Everyone gulped and looked at me.  They knew I was a baker but they also knew we didn’t have adequate ingredients to prepare a true bread… we didn’t even have enough wheat flour for a single loaf!

I set to work, walking around the kitchen and grabbing ingredients.  I immediately took all of the wheat flour in the storage room, as well as some cornmeal, and the little yeast we had on site.  I grabbed some Yucatan honey, sea salt, and from there just let the regional ingredients inspire me.  I shucked an ear of corn and removed the kernels from the cob.  I stewed tomatoes, minced an onion, and sliced local peppers.  It was a Southern-Cornbread-Meets-European-Bread-in-Mexico creation. 

By the time I threw the loaf in the oven the other dishes were already on the table.  Everyone was wringing their hands and worrying about what El Magico would say about my bread being late.  I told them –mostly through hand gestures and Cajun French- that anyone who could afford this villa must realize that great bread cannot be rushed.  My words did not comfort them.

When the bread came out of the oven I sliced it, plated it and handed it to the waiter to send out.  He refused out of fear.  I shook my head, washed my hands, and walked into the dining room to present the bread myself.  What surprised me was that there were two conversations happening in the dining room- one in Spanish and one in English.  The conversation in Spanish I automatically tuned out and the one in English I automatically honed in on… it was about getting Cocaine across the border and included airports, dates of arrival and what types of vehicle were available for pickup and delivery.  When I rounded the corner the conversation that was taking place in English stopped.  They could tell I was American and they knew that I heard them.  Thankfully I had spent many years in the bars of South Louisiana playing poker and had developed a good poker face.  I kept walking, acted oblivious to what I had just heard, and presented my loaves to the table.  That’s when I realized that “El Mexico” actually was “El Magico”, AKA Pablo Escobar, and I later learned that one of the Gringos at the table was George Jung.

I apologized for the tardiness of my bread and explained to them what a truly fantastic fusion cuisine they were about to enjoy.  As I left the dining room a conversation in whispered Spanish picked up.  I returned to the kitchen and cleaned my station, the whole time I realized that I was probably a dead man.  The waiter soon returned to the kitchen and motioned for me to come back out to the dining room… our guests wanted to speak with me.

I stood before the table of Who’s Who of Drug Trafficking and one of the men began to translate Pablo Escobar’s words for me.  He loved the bread and said it was worth the wait.  I told him it was an honor to cook for him and looked forward to doing so for the remainder of his stay with us.  The whole time he was sizing me up.  His mouth was smiling but his eyes were daggers.  I’d seen this look many times after I’d laid down a winning hand at the poker table.  El Magico told me he would send one of his workers to the closest large city for more flour and that he wished to have one of my European breads the following evening.  I bowed and returned to the kitchen.

That night I left Sayulita with the clothes on my back and that night’s pay which, thankfully, included a very generous tip from Senor Escobar.  Once I was away from the streetlights of the villa I left the roads and ran cross country towards the highway.  I hopped on the back of a truck headed for the American border and was seized by Border Patrol agents at the New Mexico border for not having proper paperwork.  When I told them my story they put me in a car and high-tailed it to Santa Fe, New Mexico, where I met with DEA agents.  When I told them everything I had heard at the dinner table the color left their faces… every employee in that villa went missing the morning after I left and was presumed dead.

Years later one of El Magico’s underlings testified about that week in Sayulita.  He said that my loaf of bread was the only reason we weren’t all killed on the spot in the evening.  Because it had satisfied Senor Escobar, he went to sleep in a great mood.  Once he woke, however, he realized that no matter how happy his stomach had been I had heard too much and couldn’t be spared.  Without that loaf of bread, I wouldn’t have had the time to get away.  That Cornbread saved my life.

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Santa Fe Cornbread will be available Wednesdays and Fridays this Fall.        

New Biscotti Flavor
We’ve got a new type of biscotti on the menu.  It’s loaded down with roasted, rough chopped almonds, a splash of bourbon, and organic vanilla.  I generally don’t like biscotti but this one amazed me when I took a bite of it after it was pulled out of the oven.  The subtle mixture of bourbon, vanilla, and almond fills the air when you crack it in half and the flavors awaken when it is dunked in coffee.

Fair-Trade Gifts
JP and Michelle are great bosses (they aren’t paying me to say that, I promise!).  We get to take home bread and sweets at no charge.  If we want time off, they give it to us.  They let us play eclectic music that they don’t particularly like.  What we appreciate most off all, though, is that they live up to the mission statement on the wall- they truly Give Generously to Others.  JP had this grin on his face the other morning when he walked in and saw a box on the floor by his office.  When we asked about why he was so happy he informed us that he had finally found a Fair-Trade basket for us to use.  The owners are even generous with our vendors, which means that a gift basket you buy in our store is even more giving than it used to be.

Shrinking the Footprint
We’ve recently added recycling bins in our seating area and have a huge bin in the back that we’ve been using for about a year now.  We’re also using local ingredients when possible like Steen’s molasses, Louisiana pecans, Kleinpeter milk, and Baby’s Coffee.  Another thing we do is give away our old wheat bags and five gallon drums to anyone who asks- first come, first serve.  Just ask for ‘em and we’ll gladly hand them over to you!

(submitted by Michelle)
Because of the awesome crew that we have, we were fortunate to enjoy some time in Colorado last month.  The first stop was the Lyons Folk Fest.  After being on the road for 18 hours, we arrived to meet our dear friends from the Springs for 3 days of awesome, close-up & personal music & tent camping. 

The first conversation was about how we had just missed Peter Himmelman's set - we were truly bummed especially the kids since he writes awesome kid music (the kind that adults like, too).   Peter was conversing next to the car so I decided to approach him & tell him how sorry we were to have missed him on-stage.  "Peter, look at my license plate...we drove all the way from Louisiana to hear you play & I can't believe we just missed you!  I think we'll just have to turn around right now.  Kids, get back in the car...."  The kids had that zombie-like glazed look that was interpreted as..."We are so sad...." but was really "I don't want to see the car for 3 days!"

Peter's reply:  "Well, let's see what we can do...."  He took us backstage to the warm-up tent.  Man, we had no idea how close-up & personal!  The kids were in shock as seen on the video.  He played for 20 minutes, and at the end of our brief visit, Mr. Himmelman, the genius song-writer, made up 2 songs on the spot.  One about eating gator meat & one about Amanda and her 5 brothers (2 were actually friends but Peter didn't know that).

What a gift!   It was the start of an awesome vacation.  Thanks, Peter!