By Matthew Halverson
Photograph by Katherine Bish
Things are changing at Black Bear Bakery. Take the “Open” sign taped to the front door of the anarchist cookie-and-bread–baking operation’s new storefront on Cherokee. It’s just a piece of white paper spit from a printer listing the hours of operation, but, unlike a similar sign at the bakery’s previous location on Jefferson, its days are numbered. “That sign would have stayed up at the old place for years because no one would have stepped up to take it down and replace it with something permanent,” says Bobby Sweet. “That’s going to change.”
It’s an uncharacteristic declaration of authority for this anti-establishment collective that bakes brioche, pumpernickel and rye by committee—no bosses or managers here—but it’s definitely necessary these days. The move alone took two-and-a-half years (Sweet says it’s hard to bake and rehab a building at the same time, but you can’t help but wonder whether the whole “we don’t give or take orders” thing got in the way), and there’s an upstairs café area in the works, but there’s no definite timetable there, either. “Maybe in a couple months,” he says with a shrug.
Café or no café, though, the bread’s still hot and fresh and, well, baked with loving, capitalism-loathing hands, which might be strangely comforting after yet another existentially exhausting campaign season of mudslinging and stump speeches. And if you think about it, by buying a cupcake you can sorta vicariously live out all of your rebellious impulses through Sweet and his flour-dusted comrades. “Yeah, I have a problem with authority,” he admits. “I did get pulled over last night for running a stop sign.”
2639 Cherokee, 314-771-2236. Hours: 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Wed-Fri, 8 a.m.-3 p.m. Sat.
