The Baker’s Peel Gets a Rest

David Morton

2 years ago

What’s a peel? A true friend for a baker, a paddle of sorts used to put bread inside the hot oven and pull it out. Mildrith and the peel are best buds.

It’s time to put away the baker’s peel again. But just for a while.

A short restorative for Jennifer and me to catch up on our sleep, reconnect with old friends and family and rejuvenate our creative juices. And rediscover things we’ve overlooked, like the tick-tock of the clock on the kitchen wall, listening to the poetry of the raven calls, breathing in the winter air.

A chance to start anew

It’s mid-December already, and after this next bake, we’re on hiatus. There’s a feeling of happy anticipation for the break, but also a wistfulness that it feels like an ending. But it’s also a new beginning, a chance to start anew with fresh energy and unthought-of ways of doing things. New bread, new ideas, new friends … and the same flow of energy, in and out, over and above, new love and joy.

Looking back at a year of Happy Monk blog posts 1, I note that poetry has been an ongoing theme.

Poetry: A starting point for this year’s bread

There’ve been passages from W.B. Yeats, Dylan Thomas, Bob Dylan, and Tom Waits. James Joyce, and John Cheever, too; they’re prose writers, but their words are poetry, to me. 2

Those words are good starting points for the blogs, but their effect on me is also the starting point for the bread and the reason I’m here, on this sunny afternoon in December 2023.

I’m looking back on nearly 3,000 loaves of bread this year, untold hours of mixing, scaling, shaping and baking. The hunt for ingredients, the milling of flour, the toasting of seeds and the soaking of fruit. The chopping of wood and managing the wood supply. The bagging and labelling of loaves, the driving of them to pick-up locations, and all the wonderful conversations I’ve shared with customers. Or just a smile

I’m thinking of those writers who’ve framed the blog posts and inspired the bread, showing me the beauty in small things. I mean the crust and crumb of wood-fired bread, the labour and patience that go into making each loaf, the act of being present for each stage of the process. I thank them for inspiring the loaves, yes, but also for the beauty they’ve brought to my life.

Bakers and poets

The bakers, too, who’ve inspired me, including many of the Instagram bakers. The tips and tricks, the baking wisdom and the ways it all translates into life. Indeed, all the world’s a poem! 3

It takes a community of souls to keep a small business like the Happy Monk Baking Company thriving. Through hands-on assistance, inspiration, and advice, an essential group of enthusiasts and supporters fuelled Mildrith’s fires. They kept the bread flowing over the past year.

The community of souls

Here are a few:

Davy Rippner, the tireless Happy Monk bagman, can bag bread like nobody’s business and make great conversation while doing it. Also, a Happy Monk booster and loyal customer, a sober and gentle adviser, and a great friend.
Eve and John Pollard, our friends at Corbett House, cheerfully provide the space and place for an essential Happy Monk bread pick-up location for Port Washington residents.
Greenangel Choppers, Dave Hargreaves, George Leroux, and all the choppers who keep us supplied with forest-friendly firewood.
Nootka Rose Mill of Metchosin for the grain and flour, top-notch service from Jennifer Mah, who left this year and has been replaced with a new star.
Byron Fry and Erika Heyrman, my Victoria baking heroes (proprietors of Fry’s Bakery and Wild Fire Bakery of Victoria). They may not realize it, but they have imparted sage wisdom and advice to me over the years, at least many 20-kilogram flour bags worth.
Josie Spaxman, Jo-Jo to most, brings warmth, cheer and welcome energy when she arrives on bread days to clean up the kitchen and wage battle against the piles of chaos throughout the house.
Andy Nowak and Mary Reher, for their apples and poppy seeds and inspiring organic farm operation, Black Rabbit Farms on North Pender.
Matt Vasilev and Katie Selbee of Twin Island Cider, for their cider, apples, their cider club and valued friendship. And talk about all the energy it takes to run multiple orchards, let alone coaxing apple elixir into bottles.
Victoria and Shawn Crichton of B raeloch Farms, whose garlic is a marvel, and found its way into a new Happy Monk loaf this year.
Barry Denluck of Barry’s Bees, maker of the finest honey — liquid gold — this side of paradise.
Steve Boudreau at T russ Farm Foods is an inspiration at Medicine Beach, with endless energy, a cajoler and a larger-than-life presence
Mark Dyck, his Bakers4Bakers online discussion forum, and the fantastic Rise Up Podcast.
Endless inspiration from the Bread Bakers Guild of America, The Bread Lab of Washington State University, and The Bread Lab Collective (creators of the Approachable Loaf).
My amazing daughter and son, Ella and John, who’ve provided spot-on advice, know-how, and artwork (Ella’s drawing has graced 12,000+ bags of Happy Monk bread).
Most importantly, my partner, friend, wife, and eternal sweet patootie, Jennifer Conkie. She’s been my sounding board, blog editor, business adviser, and zen presence. This whole operation might have crashed and burned without her!
And not to forget the folks of Pender Island! The customers and supporters who’ve held up this little enterprise and allowed me to indulge my passion for bread. So many thanks to all of you!

We are such stuff as dreams are made on

Best of the season to all! We’ll be back in February, full of new ideas and inspiration. Have lots of warm, deep rest until then, with lots of dreams and joy.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
— from The Tempest by William Shakespeare

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