Why this exists
a note from kyle
Some families pass down jewelry. Mine passes down
recipes — and memories. For as long as I can remember,
cooking has been the thread running through all of it.
My grandfather's pierogi, made every year like
clockwork, so good it felt almost rude to talk about
anything else at the table. My mother trying out a new
recipe and quietly blowing the minds of everyone in the
room. The endless restaurants, the wild world of food.
This is what I live for — not just because I need it,
but because nothing, not once, has ever failed to bring
people together the way a good meal does.
"Every loaf is a reminder."
When I got into sourdough, my mother was the first
person I called. Of course she was. She's the one who
got me into it in the first place.
Cooking is the language we kept speaking when life got
busy. I'd send her a voice note about a gummy crumb at
11 p.m.; she'd send back a photo of her starter at 7
a.m. We have made each other better bakers. More to the
point, we have made each other.
This site is what those phone calls would look like if
we wrote them down. Yes, it's a database — pH and
hydration
and protein percentages and all the obsessive bits we
love. But it's also a place to keep track of who taught
us what. A place where every recipe has a person
attached to it.
I built it with her in mind. And for everyone who has
ever shared a recipe with someone they love.
Kyle
— loving son, kitchen apprentice