“History celebrates the battlefields whereon we meet our death, but scorns to speak of the plowed fields whereby we thrive. It knows the names of the king's bastards but cannot tell us the origin of wheat. This is the way of human folly.”
Jean Henri Fabre
sourdough | ˈsaʊədəʊ |
[noun] leaven for making bread, consisting of fermenting dough, originally that left over from a previous baking.
madrigal | ˈmadrɪɡ(ə)l |
[noun] a part-song for several voices, especially one of the Renaissance period, typically unaccompanied and arranged in elaborate counterpoint.
Welcome to The Sourdough Madrigals.
My name is Graison Gill. I’ve been obsessed with baking and milling for fifteen years. I was trained at the San Francisco Baking Institute and in 2012 opened Bellegarde Bakery in New Orleans. I’ve traveled the world to teach, lecture, and share my passion for bread. In 2020 I was a James Beard Finalist as the best baker in the country.
I’ve always had a desire to share the stories behind our recipes. Especially now, in a world where everyone is an expert and algorithms have diluted experience. Louder voices drown out longer sentences. Flashy videos overpower single moments.
I love bread because of its alchemy. Take three of the earth’s most elemental ingredients—flour, water, salt—and with your hands make life from them. Bread is more than food. It is—for me and many cultures—the stories we tell about ourselves. Wheat is its alphabet, emotions its grammar. And always, always there must be the baker, telling the story with bread.
Sourdough Madrigals is a pair of lungs which wants to tattle, to gossip, to know why we bake.
In every baker’s sourdough culture there are dozens of unique yeasts. Each impart their own flavor and character to a loaf. And it these invisible ingredients I’m obsessed with. Because it is often things we cannot see which make our story. Change it. Make it relatable. Redemptive. Tragic. Delicious.
Consider my work as an Only Fans for bread. As a place where the curtain drops, the mask come off, and vulnerability permits a deeper experience. Because to get to the heart of the matter, we need to get to the matter of the heart. And in this journey, if we can name the things we saw along the way, there’s a good chance others will say Hey, me too, I recognize myself in your story. And when they do, we can really begin to break bread. Instead of wasting so many damn breadcrumbs in the woods.
Why subscribe?
Add your voice to these Sourdough Madrigals by providing your support and helping to amplify, promote, and share these stories. Be part of a community of people who share your interests.
Join the crew
“Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries”
Theodore Roethke
