At the westernmost of our Long Beach boards, New York Ave, I watched for ospreys hauling freight or whales flaunting weight. I find the west end of the boards rich in such displays.

Scott Knobler stood not far from me at the ramp’s rail, iced coffee in hand, a dude as cool as the late summer breeze. Then he spoke:

“See any whales?”

Wow.

I recently suggested, in the Long Beach Patch, that people might consider such an ask to provoke conversations with strangers. And here, the provoker, par excellence, was provoked. I responded with, that “Wow!” and referenced my prior Patch urging to him.

Scott said he lives nearby, at Wyoming Ave., in our city’s west end.

As we chatted, it became apparent that Scott had an exciting shifting of gears in life, one for this essay and also for the Long Beach library’s oral history project. So, I recorded for the library and this essay. (Hear the oral history soon at library near you.)

Scott was a corporate guy selling TV sports advertising for FX and later CNN. It served its purpose as a young man, he said, “It allowed me to live in the city and travel.” But as for the job itself—he hated it. “Sports advertising wasn’t for me,” he said.

When COVID hit he got laid off. So, of course, as one will do in such a situation—he baked bread.

Not at first though.

Scott’s a multifaceted guy and scuba is a facet. He was so interested in ocean conservancy and environmental conservation that after the layoff he started doing volunteer work with AMSEAS. He said, “They do whale necropsies, and beach clean ups around here.” He said he did it, “because I love the ocean and wanted to help the environment.” But, he said, “As much as I loved that, I knew it wan’t the next step, I don’t know why.”

He majored in Archeology at college so he also worked with Nancy Solomon as a volunteer for Long Island Traditions. He said, “She does a lot with the local bay men. She highlights things about Long Island that kind of get overlooked.” He researched for her the history of the Walks in Long Beach. The Walks are a community within the community of Long Beach—without streets. But that’s another essay.

One day Scott brought to the Tradition’s office four loaves of his sourdough bread he baked for fun—and he got great feedback. Friends and neighbors gave rave reviews too. His mom was a prolific baker but she mainly baked sweets, pastries, muffins, and the like. Scott preferred baking bread—and it was a big hit.

So, he started selling it at Long Beach’s Kennedy Plaza. It was a big hit there too. The first day, he sold out quickly. He couldn’t believe it. He said, “Then one customer put me in touch with Jordan’s Lobster Farm in Island Park.

It took off from there.

Scott said, “The local community here has really embraced me and my bread. He said, after he moved to Jordan’s, “I had people stop me, once at a stoplight saying, ‘Hey, you’re the bread guy. Where have you been? I miss you at the (Kennedy) market.'” He liked being called—”the bread guy.”

A few days later, Scott welcomed me to his home to see his bread operation.

Walking into the elevated house I noticed the incredible scent of baking bread. That scent has a primal effect on many of us; the most recent evidence shows bread being made in the Stone Age—14,000 years ago. I think some aromas arouse primal areas in our brains, one might call them scentual echos.

Scott and his wife, Melinda rent the house, but the owner installed the large oven for him in which he was now baking focaccia. Great landlord here. Melinda, in marketing, sees how much happier Scott is now. He said, “She saw how healthier it was for me. She’s been amazingly supportive. She said ‘you can never go back.'”

Scott’s licensed home operation is an up and down affair, from kitchen oven to downstairs brick oven.

In the kitchen Scott put two breads in the oven, but often it’s six or eight. He said he uses this oven for focaccia and such, as he’s baking here. He does so with the joy of a child on Christmas morn.

At the brick level he said, “One loaf is a whole wheat, the other is an organic white.” The oven has a brick bottom which “gives it a nice crust,” he said. It also allows the entry of controlled steam into the baking chamber. Scott said, “The steam gives it a nice crust but if you leave the steam in too long it gives it too hard of a crust.”

The aroma from it too was sublime. I asked Scott if he ever gets tired of the smell of baking bread, as I’ve heard some confectioners say. He said, “Absolutely not; I love it, and so do my neighbors.” He delivers his breads to Jordan’s Market Thursday through Sunday and they sell it for him, He said, “They’re selling exceptionally well.”

Back upstairs, Scott admitted to never having this smiley face selling ads. He said, “I can’t tell you how much I wanted to get out of those doldrums.”

COVID forced him out. We talked about plateaus people find themselves stuck on. He recalled Liz Treston’s use of being comfortable with being uncomfortable as a good way of describing being stuck.

In his case, Scott said, it was more rut than plateau and his move made him think of “doors closing and doors opening” as favorite words of his mom.

Scott still sells out of his house to “Five Oceans” a Long Beach Seafood restaurant and bar, and a couple of other restaurants, but he is (recent edit): looking for a brick and mortar venue on our West End. “

Scott showed me his starter which he said he “feeds every day. It’s very active and bubbling, I don’t use any yeast.”

The starter “pulls yeast from the air and builds a culture,” he said. “If I add equal parts water and flour it will double or triple in size in six to eight hours. He uses “twenty percent of starter and adds flour water and salt.” He then goes through this stretch and fold:

Scott moves the dough to the countertop for more kneading.

He then divides it into loaves. As Scott weighed each sourdough mound into six pieces, he said, “Im enjoying this. I like working with the dough. My whole life, I worked at a desk.” He did have surgery for carpal tunnel syndrome but much of that was from bicycling—and typing. An avid biker, he once bicycled across Iowa.

He said, “I never knew how much I’d enjoy creating something like this out of water and flour. It’s weird how I can turn this into a nice loaf of bread.”

“Weird,” was Scott’s word for what many of us call “miracle,” or “awesome,” because the event is ineffable. I think it’s just as “weird” that a tiny seed stuck in soil can produce a wheat plant—or a watermelon! All one can do is smile—and not take it for granted.

Scott evinces a man with deep feelings for what he does. And that, dear readers, is a good man—who brings good bread to us.

Scott lets the breads rest in bannetons, (baskets) where they can breathe through the basket’s sides.

Scott said, “I love Long Beach and couldn’t be happier here, coming to the beach and running into people such as yourself.” He said, in the city, “I never even knew my neighbors. Long Beach is big enough to have lots of great restaurants and also have access to plenty of things. We live spitting distance from the ocean and the bay, it’s hard to beat that.”

“Each baker has his own signature,” Scott said, for example, “As the weather changes, the timing changes. In summer, it proofs faster. In winter things take a lot longer, it doesn’t rise as fast. I hesitate teaching it because (with others making it) it’s not the same product.” He said he might teach, “maybe muffins, but not my bread.”

He said, “It took me years to learn, and I’m still learning a lot; I take classes in the winter. I have no formal training.” He learned a lot—from YouTube.

Scott said a large Long Island chain, (I won’t mention it here,) “wanted me to teach their staff to do 300 or 400 breads a day,” resulting in his quality and the crust he achieves. But he said their bread for restaurants is made in a giant machine that spits out half-cooked Italian bread with commercial yeast, not his natural way. Scott said of his own method, “This takes two and half days; you’re not going to get that” in a commercial operation. He turned them down.

About a baker’s signature he said, “It’s deciding when it’s proofed enough,” for one thing, each baker decides differently.

Scott said, there were times when he thought he was “too old to start a new career but you’re never too old to do— whatever.” He said, thinking you’re too old is just bad logic, if you think that way you are stuck.”

He advises young people “to take their time and figure out what makes you tick, what’s your true love? To find your passion.” He said, “It sounds cliche, but find what you love and try not to, if possible, worry about money, and the money will follow.”

Scott said, “I always enjoyed eating bread, but I never knew how much I’d enjoy making it. And when you give it to family or friends or strangers and they love it—that’s the best feeling of all.

I just fell backwards into this, for fun, which is I guess how it should be.” He said, “I love working with bread, getting with the familiarity of it, the feel of it, to know when I need to stop shaping it, I don’t want to overwork it, to hold off and deciding it’s not proofed enough.”

I think Scott described his signature. But I think of it also as his rendition. He makes bread as did so many millions of others before him. But his “familiarity” with it, feel of it, love of it, brings forth his rendition of what bread makers did for 14,000 years.

Scott’s bread freezes well, I had whole wheat toasted and buttered this morning—I felt like having a cigarette after it.

Current bread-buy options are now Jordan’s Lobster Farm or:

For bread orders call: 516-522-0411 or email: scottssourdough@gmail.com

Be well,

Leebythesea