Just loafing around

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 08/04/2022 (1635 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Timing is everything when it comes to baking, so it comes as no surprise when Jared Ozuk, who offers online, Saturday-morning bread-making classes under the banner Winnipeg Bread, kicks things off precisely as advertised, at 10 a.m. on the dot.

The first thing Ozuk does — well, after introducing a cat visible over his right shoulder as Wylie, one of two felines he and his wife Reni share their tidy, one-story abode with — is conduct a quick roll call to ensure all seven people who signed up for today’s 3 1/2-hour tutorial on artisan bread are present and accounted for. Secondly, he asks each of them, one by one, to direct a camera at their homework assignment, a mound of dough they were supposed to have added salt, water and yeast to, the previous evening.

Satisfied that everybody’s dough has the consistency he’s looking for, he thanks them for including him in their weekend plans before announcing, “OK, it’s time to start baking.”

Seated in his dining room a few days later, Ozuk shakes his head when asked if Winnipeg Bread, which will toast its one-year anniversary next month, was a calculated move on his part to capitalize on what came to be known as the “COVID-19 baking craze.”

Uh-uh, he says, pointing out if he had been more on the ball, he would be celebrating his second year in biz, as opposed to his first.

“It’s funny because when that whole, sourdough-baking trend was happening fairly early on (in the pandemic), I didn’t clue in at all… I was totally oblivious,” he says, bending down to scratch Kitty No. 2, Nico, behind the ears. “I wasn’t on Instagram too much at the time, so that’s one reason. But I was also busy doing what I’ve always done: baking bread.”

Ozuk, 50, who some may recognize as the co-leader of ’90s band the Apartments together with guitarist Greg MacPherson, guesses he was in his early 20s when he called his mother to pick her brain about how to bake bread. He was already comfortable in the kitchen and making his own from scratch seemed “super-appealing,” he explains.

He kept at it and a few years later, by which time he was living in Guelph, Ont., he approached the owner of an Italian bakery he frequented, to ask whether there were any openings.

Did he have any experience in a commercial bakery, the Sicilian-born proprietor wondered?

“None, zip,” he said.

“Alright, you can start tomorrow,” came the reply.

Ozuk worked there for close to a year before relocating to B.C. At some point he read about the Alpine Bakery, a German-style bakery in Whitehorse that milled its own flour, and turned out organic loaves of bread prepared in a wood-fired, brick oven. Intrigued, he headed north to check the place out for himself.

You can probably guess what happened next; after inquiring about employment possibilities, he returned to gather his possessions, then spent the next 20 months in the Yukon, learning how to produce everything from potato bread to spelt muffins to ciabatta to pretzels.

The Alpine Bakery had a loyal clientele and he enjoyed his time there immensely, except after two winters of “constant cold and darkness,” he needed a break, he says, counting back on his fingers to determine what year he came back to Winnipeg for good (2012).

Skip ahead to last May; Ozuk, an office administrator who continues to play music on the side, hadn’t seen certain members of his family in person for what seemed like forever. One afternoon he suggested getting together on Zoom, the premise being, if they couldn’t break bread together, perhaps they could bake bread together?

“There were eight of us, and I sent everybody a grocery list ahead of time, to make sure they’d have exactly what they’d need,” he says, showing off some of his “toys,” which include pizza paddles, Dutch ovens and a heavy-duty baking steel that tips the scales at more than 20 kilograms. “Things went really well, we had a ton of fun and afterwards my cousin Devin (Henderson) and I started talking about how we should maybe turn it into a ‘thing,’ by seeing if there was any demand for online, bread-making classes.”

Fast movers, within a few days they’d registered their business name, secured a Zoom licence and developed a website. A couple weeks later, they hosted their first session for a group of 10, a mix of people who’d baked bread previously, but were interested in learning new tips and tricks, combined with others whose expertise was more along the line of opening a tube of Pillsbury biscuits.

That’s largely been the breakdown ever since, says Ozuk, who has been running Winnipeg Bread on his own since last September, when his cousin stepped aside to concentrate on her full-time occupation.

Because of that, one of the things he tries hard to do is move at a steady enough pace so that nobody is falling behind, but, at the same time, nobody is getting bored, either. Later, when everybody’s bread — or cinnamon buns or pyrizhky, he teaches how to make those, too — is in the oven and they’re able to step away from the camera for a spell, he sticks around to answer any questions people might have about why they did something a certain way, or why they added this or that ingredient.

Christina Little was looking for online cooking and baking classes when she discovered Winnipeg Bread on Facebook, a few months ago. She signed up for Ozuk’s Neapolitan-style pizza class, during which everybody topped a homemade crust with tomato sauce, mozzarella and basil, a dish she calls the best pie she’s ever tasted. She’s since taken classes through Ozuk on cinnamon buns and artisan bread.

“All (three) classes were easy to follow along (and) Jared made every class unique,” Little says when reached at home. “I had some experience baking bread prior to the classes but with that said, many of the recipes I used in the past were very time-consuming (and) in Jared’s classes, he will show you easy recipes that produce the best flavours. Seriously, you won’t believe you made it.”

That’s a tough one, Little says when asked what she enjoys more: the sense of accomplishment that comes with having baked something yourself or the aroma of baked goods, straight out of the oven?

“I would have to say both. Making it at home, you have more of an appreciation. And as for a freshly baked loaf of bread in the kitchen, nothing beats that smell. The kitchen is the heart of the house where everyone gathers, especially when the smell of freshly baked bread spreads throughout the house like a dinner bell.”

It’s Ozuk’s intention to continue offering two to three classes per month to interested individuals. He also hopes to expand his operation, by approaching different businesses and organizations, to see if they would be keen on taking a mid-week course as a team-building exercise or staff activity. Last month, for example, he led 25 people employed by a major financial services firm through a bread-making class. The feedback he received was 100 per cent positive, he says.

While he agrees it would probably be fun to teach in a live setting somewhere down the road, perhaps by renting space at a facility such as the Food Studio on Roblin Boulevard, from what he’s witnessed to date, not only have people seemingly grown accustomed to gathering via video conferencing, they actually prefer learning how to bake in the comfort of their own kitchens, where they know where every last pot and pan is kept.

“The ultimate goal would be to do this full time, or at least reach a stage where I reduce my present, full-time job to part time,” he says.

By the way, if you think a person who moulds dough for a living turns his nose up when he’s walking past a grocery store bread aisle, think again.

“One of my all-time favourite breads is City rye,” he says. “I grew up in Transcona and when I used to visit my parents after moving away, I made sure to load my suitcase up with City rye before leaving town. That, to me, is still a quality, quality loaf of bread.”

For more information go to www.winnipegbread.com

david.sanderson@freepress.mb.ca