Once upon a time nearly every Polish town and village had its own bakery, making bread the way bread has traditionally been made in Poland. These days, most of these bakeries have shut down; bread now comes from in-store bakeries of the big supermarket chains, or from chains of dedicated bakeries with optimised logistics. These essentially bake frozen dough on the premises, so you get a warm and crusty loaf... but something is missing.
Last week I had to go for a heart check-up (all good thanks!) in Ursynów. I passed an artisan bakery, Bread Morning! on Aleja KEN 15. Noting that it was next door to a chain bakery (Putka), which was empty, while a queue of five people was waiting in Bread Morning!, I joined that queue. I bought one loaf of pszeniczno-żytny (wheat-rye) bread for 14 złotys. This is a price that many across rural Poland might find psychologically bonkers, when a reasonable loaf of chleb górski or chleb drwalski from a Lidl in-store bakery costs around 4 złotys.
But what a loaf! It was one of those taste-sensation things that prompts the response "I've got to have that again!" I've had this with my first decent Polish craft IPA, and before that, my first New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, when I woke up the following morning, tormented by a desire to taste that taste once more.
So when faced with the choice of travelling all the way to Ursynów to collect my results in person or making a few phone calls, I jumped on the train. Results in hand, I popped by Bread Morning! and bought another one of those pszeniczno-żytny loaves. Before me in the queue was a guy placing his order – and paying – for three loaves to be collected on Saturday morning, when demand is the highest.
********
Back in Jakubowizna I ate and I ate and I ate and I ate. Six slices, one after another, on their own, without anything. (Just to be clear: this is brunch – I'd already eaten a decent breakfast: fried rice with duck and mushroom.) And then a seventh slice. And now an eighth.
It's been a long time (nearly 16 years!) since I last raved about Polish bread. But the renaissance is on its way.
Bread Morning! Piekarnia rzemieślnicza (Warszawa) on Al. KEN in Ursynów is an example of something that's been unfolding across Poland over the past decade alongside the craft ale revolution. This is the triumphant return of old-school sourdough baking. Poles have a deep-rooted attachment to rye sourdough breads (chleb żytni na zakwasie). Oh yes! Even in the 1960s we had our Polish bakeries supplying the few Polski Skleps in West London that were around at the time with decent loaves of traditional Polish bread. So much better than Sunblest white sliced.
The late 1990s and early 2000s saw the widespread industrialisation of baking as part of the revolution in Polish food retailing. Supermarkets and bakery chains flooded the market with par-baked, frozen dough products, puffed up with chemical improvers, enzymes and commercial yeasts to accelerate rising. Traditional bakeries (piekarnie) faced intense pressure on their margins; many shut down; those which survived turned to shortcut pre-mixes to stay in the game, sacrificing flavour, crust integrity and keeping qualities.
Around the mid-2010s, a counter-revolution gathered pace. Sparked by passionate home bakers and professionals returning from abroad (bringing back inspirations from Parisian boulangeries, San Francisco sourdough hotspots and Nordic craft bakeries), a new wave of artisan bakeries began appearing in major Polish cities.
The core philosophy rejects commercial improvers in favour of cool fermentation up to 48 hours. Google Gemini explains that “this allows wild yeasts and lactobacilli to break down complex gluten structures and phytic acid, resulting in superior digestibility, a moist, open crumb (miękisz), and a crunchy crust that stays fresh for days without preservatives. Craft bakers revived older, unadulterated grain varieties such as spelt (orkisz), emmer (płaskurka), and einkorn (samopsza), alongside regional stoneground ryes”.
Bread Morning's shop is next door to its bakery, which has large windows open to the street. Passers-by and shoppers can watch doughs being hand-kneaded and loaded into the ovens. Google, which knows these things, states that “Warsaw has become one of Central Europe's most vibrant centres for artisan baking. What began as destination bakeries in central and creative quarters (such as Mokotów, Śródmieście, and Saska Kępa) quickly spread to residential neighbourhoods like Ursynów, Żoliborz, and Wilanów. Places like Bread Morning! demonstrate that neighbourhood demand for high-grade, honest sourdough is robust; locals willingly queue early on Saturday mornings for a still-warm loaf, classic rye, or flaky laminated viennoiserie made with real butter rather than vegetable fat”.
I sincerely hope that artisan bakeries will not turn out to be a short-lived hipster novelty, but will prove to be the vanguard of a resurging Polish bread culture.
Mediaeval monks called ale 'liquid bread'; I'd call this bread 'solid ale'.
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Parliamentary train at West Ealing station
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Progress in Jakubowizna
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Miedzianka by Filip Springer
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Out of the third, into the fourth
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Inverted reflections
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Observations from London's WC1
and Observations from the City of London
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Civilising Jeziorki's wetlands
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Warsaw's Aleje Jerozolimskie
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Autumn gold, Zamienie
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