Kernels of truth
You may not know who Martin Auer is but you’ve almost certainly heard about the $60 loaves of rye he's selling in New York City. The internet is losing its mind over the price. I was curious: how unreasonable is it, really?
The loaf in question is massive—3.3 lb, nearly 1.5 kg. You can purchase a quarter of it for $15. At 375 grams, that piece is considerably larger than the 200-280 grams of dough that makes a true Neapolitan pizza.
Two things are worth keeping in mind. First, I used to make and sell sourdough pizza dough because the grocery store options were cheap and bad. Mine sold for 3x the price of the bagged supermarket dough, and my production costs were easily three times higher, too. Before I join a chorus declaring something a rip-off, I want to know why it exists and how it’s made.
Second, less than a mile away from Auer’s bakery sits Una Pizza Napoletana, where a single pie runs around $40 and reservations are very hard to get. It used to be (in 18th century Naples) that a slice of pizza was among the most affordable meals, costing about 1 soldo, a silver coin worth a fraction of €1 today. As with many baked goods, pizza can exist in cheap and elite forms. Is it possible rye is just late to the party?
Rye does have humble beginnings. Early agricultural records show it popping up as a weed in the wheat fields of the Fertile Crescent. Farmers treated it as a nuisance until they noticed it could survive harsh winters that killed other crops, then began seeding it as an insurance policy so they always had something to eat. Rye’s hardiness also makes it a staple of Central Europe—which is how Austrians came to eat so much of it.
Auer imports the flour for his rye bread from Austria. This is obviously expensive, and the cost is passed on to his customers. Is it necessary?
In Austria, rye is strictly regulated, tested, and protected by the Federal Office for Food Safety. Schlägler Roggen (roggen means rye in German) is recognized as the oldest registered varietal, and has been cultivated for over a century. In the US, we don’t have the same standards for rye. Less than 18% goes to human consumption while the majority is grown as cover crops and animal feed.
Like wheat, rye contains gluten proteins that make it unsafe for those with celiac disease. But whereas wheat’s protein creates a light, extensible gluten network capable of trapping gas for an open crumb, rye’s protein essentially turns to sludge. It’s exceptionally good at absorbing and holding onto moisture (a rye loaf stays fresh for days), but terrible at rising. To compensate, Austrian bakers rely on millers to provide finely sifted light rye flour, which delivers the grain’s deep, earthy flavor in a slightly more tender crumb. If you try to bake with standard American rye flour—a coarse, dark whole grain–you’ll get more fiber per serving and you will also be gnawing on a brick.
This might explain why the vast majority of rye bread in America is what Modernist Cuisine calls rye-flavored bread. If you’ve ordered a classic Reuben or pastrami sandwich, it was almost certainly served on wheat bread with only a little rye mixed in. Many people mistake the taste of caraway seeds for rye, and don’t realize that a dark or marbled loaf is achieved by adding molasses or another ingredient for color.
Rye isn’t the only imitation bread found in the US. Grocery stores are full of cheap options that take shortcuts (“sourdough flavor”) or straight up obfuscation (calling bread “multigrain” or “whole wheat” when the first ingredient is enriched white flour). These breads are the type of thing that motivate someone with high standards to make a better version.
Look beyond big box grocery stores though, and you’ll find plenty of independent bread bakeries that rival or exceed Auer’s in quality, nutrition, and value.
Starting with the flour. In Colorado, the Rye Resurgence Project supports culinary-grade rye as a sustainable, water-saving crop that helps prevent dust storms and strengthens the local food system. The website Daily Grains, where anyone can search for farmers and millers offering regional heritage grains, tracks 5 different rye varietals now grown in the US, including ones first cultivated in Switzerland, Germany, Poland, and Italy. Mills like Janie’s, in Illinois, sell organic light rye flour suitable for Austrian rye bread (theirs costs less than $2/lb in bulk). And thanks to New American Stone Mills, it’s more accessible than ever for bakeries to mill grains to their precise specifications—yielding flour far fresher than anything imported across an ocean. I'd know, because I just milled my own homegrown rye at a local bakery's NA stone mill.
Auer’s model for rye bread is predicated on the narrative that authentic Austrian rye is superior to what you can find here, and must be sourced and made his way. It makes for a rye that's expensive to produce, but is far from the only way to make a great loaf.
So why defend it? Because viral outrage over a bread that’s been so overlooked in the US is a rare opportunity to remind you of your own power as a consumer.
The missing link in our burgeoning rye network is popular demand. Bakeries sell far more standard sourdough because that’s what moves. But there are bakers eager to work more with rye, precisely because they know it’s as good for the planet and for our food security as it is for our health. If enough people walk into their neighborhood bakery and ask for good rye for less than $60, they will be heard. And your local baker will be able to tell you more than just how to slice it. They may even be able to introduce you to the miller and grower they sourced from. This, rather than the economics of an unsustainable $60 loaf of rye, is what we should be talking about.
Over here at Quail Street, we’re getting ready to support regenerative rye farming with our rye chocolate chip cookie mix, made from whole grain rye milled locally in Utah. We’re weeks away from finalizing a production plan, and excited to offer you the option to preorder yours soon on our website. It won’t be $60.