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My love for baking didn’t begin in a bakery kitchen — it began in my bloodline. My great grandfather William Fritz owned a German bakery, Fritz Bakery in Chicago in the 1920's.  I remember hearing stories growing up during the holidays the bakery would be so busy, my great grandfather would leave the ovens on and allow the locals to come cook their holiday dinners in the ovens. It was cheaper for the bakery to keep them on, and a cost savings for those in town, and brought about a sense of community.  This sense of community and love for baking - a legacy I didn’t realize was shaping my future long before I was born.

 

The love of baking continued through the generation onto his daughter, my grandmother, Tootsie (never “Grandma,” because in her words that would make her old), was a woman whose birthday I share.  A fiery Aries she was well-traveled, deeply spiritual, and spoke her mind without apology.  She loved birds, could name them all. Her favorite saying — “I’d rather be a peacock than a sparrow” — showed in her flamboyant attire and her unapologetic way of living. As my father and my aunts will say "she was a terrible cook but an excellent baker." I have many memories growing up visiting her eating pancakes with sugar poured on straight from a sugar shaker, a sugar shaker I still have to this day. Picking cherries and apples off the trees in her backyard for her to bake pies, and eating her famous peanut butter fudge. Some of my recipes are inspired by the woman I share this birthday and love of baking with. 

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Decades later, as I was climbing the corporate ladder. I started to notice a constant single crow began appearing in my life. It made me think of my grandmother and her deep love for birds. Day after day, it would watch me and even caw at me from my walks or my backyard, as if to almost serve as a warning. Several hardships had made their way, and the icing on the cake I lost a corporate job, where I really cared about my team. I had thought the crow was appearing as a warning for all of those trials. He seemed to go away as I had thought I found something worth keeping the crow at bay. I remember even saying to him "you can go away now, the trials are over my friend" but alas they were not.  Looking back, I see it now as a no-nonsense messenger from my ancestors: Necessary change is coming. Be ready. Adapt.

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Life piled on, direct impacts to our home from Hurricanes Helene and Milton. We said goodbye to our first dog, Cooper, after 14 years. In the middle of this upheaval, I turned to sourdough as a way to keep my heart and hands busy. It was a hobby, I enjoyed cooking for my home, then for my friends, then my family, then acquaintances. With encouragement, grit, and plenty of trial and error, Soderlund Sourdough as a business was born.

 

But in my first few weeks of business, I hit a wall. I sat outside wondering, What the hell am I doing? That kind of doubt that makes you question everything crept in. Then, right when I needed it most, a flock of white ibis flew directly overhead. In Florida, the ibis is the last bird to seek shelter before a storm and the first to emerge when it’s over. To me — after a little nudge from researching its meaning to have so many of those birds fly over you— it was clear: my ancestors were sending another message. The storm has passed. Keep going. You’re on the right path. Now, every loaf I bake carries that spirit — the resilience of the crow, the hope of the ibis, the fire of a woman who never minced words, and the legacy of a family bakery. Soderlund Sourdough isn’t just about bread; it’s about rising again and again, no matter how many storms you’ve weathered with  community support that will help carry you forward. 

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