#24: The allure of artisanal goods

Forget convenience, I want the good stuff

👋 Hi friends, it's Hesam with issue #24 of 4 bits. 4 bits is a biweekly newsletter where I share thoughts and musings on how to build memorable experiences.

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Here’s what I’ve been listening to: Nia - So Tell Me… (Spotify)

I discovered this track when I stumbled across tim deSilva’s tiktok channel. tim is a 4 bits reader and the founder of Record Props, a neat way to display vinyl records.

Naturally, tim has a massive vinyl collection and showcases records he likes on his tiktok channel. With beautiful vocals and a breakbeat sound I haven’t heard in a while, this track from Nia is now in heavy rotation on my playlist.

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The allure of artisanal goods

Every Monday morning, I get a text from my dealer letting me know it’s time to buy.

I know I have to quickly respond or they’ll run out of inventory.

The selection varies depending on what they’ve sourced. There’s usually the “everyday”. Sometimes they have a seed variety or the “twists”.

Knowing that other people received the text too and are placing orders, I scramble to decide.

What can I use it for? Should I get one or two? Should I tell anyone or should I surprise them?

This past week, I didn’t overthink it. As soon as my dealer texted, I clicked the link in the text, added some goods to my cart, paid via Apple Pay, and mentally prepared myself for pickup on Friday.

What did I order?

Sourdough bread, of course.

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I love sourdough bread. Even when we’re overseas for the summer, we still get our sourdough bread fix at Meneer Leffers, a local bakery in Delft.

Wunderloaf, the dealer in question, is a one woman cottage bakery in Houston. Noemi, the owner, bakes the bread and runs the operation out of her home. Wunderloaf bread is naturally leavened and has only a few simple ingredients: stone ground flour, water, salt, and sourdough culture.

The experience of ordering bread from Wunderloaf began well before I received my first text.

I first followed Wunderloaf on Instagram. I stared at photos of bread in my feed for weeks. The bread looked so good I could taste it. Eventually, I signed up for Wunderloaf’s contact list, reluctantly offering my contact information in exchange for the opportunity to try this elusive bread.

After getting a text last week, I finally placed my order (an “everyday loaf”). Minutes later, I received the coordinates to pickup the precious cargo: between 4:30 pm - 6:30 pm on Friday at a home minutes away from Rice’s campus. I shuffled my schedule for Friday afternoon so I could be there right at 4:30 pm.

When I pulled up, the front door was open. There was Noemi, the baker and owner. Behind her, there were what seemed like hundreds of orders of bread, each carefully wrapped in paper and labeled with the person’s name.

I briefly exchanged words with Noemi, picked up my bread, and went home, pinching a part of the loaf to enjoy the chewy, flavorful sourdough she had baked to order. Victory was mine! The trek was worth it.

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Buying bread, but more complicated

Sourdough bread isn’t hard to find. You can make your own. You can pick up a loaf from your local grocery store. You can go to a boutique bakery and pay a premium to get a pretty one that tastes better. Or you can stalk a baker on Instagram, wait until their next drop, rush to place an order, drive to their house, and pick up a loaf that costs twice as much.

What transforms the act of buying bread, a simple task that can be done along your normal grocery order, into a multi-day adventure? On the surface, it might appear completely irrational. But when you look at it more carefully, you notice there’s a lot to admire about the Wunderloaf bread buying experience:

• Small batch, literally: The Wunderloaf operation is limited by both the size of the facility (a home) and the number of people (one). There’s only so many loafs Noemi can bake, so you know you’re part of a small group getting this week’s orders.

• Sense of urgency: If you think about it too long, there will be no inventory left. Much like other “drops” (sneakers, limited edition collabs), you have to be prepared to buy once they’re released. This constraint adds energy and excitement about placing the order while there’s still time.

• Better quality: There’s a noticeable difference between Wunderloaf bread and traditional bakery bread. Maybe it’s the extra love and attention. Maybe it’s the better ingredients. A blind taste test with a 7 year old confirms that it’s not all in my head and the bread does taste better than your average loaf.

• Choose your own adventure: When I picked up my bread, I ran into a good friend who buys from Noemi consistently. My friend’s advice was: don’t buy the same loaf each time. Noemi will occasionally experiment with new offerings and also has a steady inventory of rotating items. It will take weeks, if not months, to try all the different breads she has to offer.

• Supporting someone who loves their work: I have appreciation and respect for someone who loves what they do. This woman clearly loves making bread. If you’re going to toil away baking bread all day, run a small operation out of your house, and deal with customers of all types, you have to enjoy what you do. She not only enjoys it, but she’s really good at it. I want to support small, local entrepreneurs like her who are pursuing businesses connected to what makes them happy. I’ll gladly pay extra for her loaf over one from a large, faceless “boutique” bakery.

• Personal interactions: You get to meet Noemi when you pickup the bread. You can sit and chat with them for a few minutes with little pressure to leave. It’s like talking to the chef that made your meal at a restaurant, but more informal and personal.

Wunderloaf isn’t the most convenient way to get bread. Nor is it the cheapest. But I’ll keep going back for more. Because it’s not the bread that Noemi is selling: it’s the experience, from start to finish, that makes this delicious, chewy bread even more satisfying.