Robertson, who moved to New York this year to open his new bakery.
Illustration: Lauren Tamaki
Anyone who knows anything about bread knows Chad Robertson’s name. And anyone who knows Robertson has been praying he’d grace this city with a location of Tartine, the California-based bakery he co-founded with his now-ex-wife, Elisabeth Prueitt, since first teasing the idea more than a decade ago. Tartine is of course where Robertson’s reputation as a guru of modern-era sourdough was first established. Since opening in 2002, it’s grown to 13 locations, a Tartine Manufactory restaurant, and various cookbooks including Tartine Bread, which is a benchmark for home and pro bakers alike.
Robertson has at last come to Brooklyn, although Tartine — in which he is still involved — is not. Instead, he is putting the finishing touches on Altbau, a 7,500-square-foot space on North 8th Street, just off Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg. Robertson says he wasn’t looking for his next bread project — he was more curious about sourdough pizza, after consulting on F&F Pizzeria’s opening in 2019 — but it was the space that sold him. “It has windows all the way around and skylights,” he says. “My New York partners were like, ‘There just aren’t a lot of buildings like this, it’s very special.’” Fittingly, the name “Altbau” is a German architectural term that refers to prewar turn-of-the-20th-century-era “old buildings,” or as Robertson explains, “very simple — it looks like a cartoon drawing of an old building, sort of a homey building.”
Accents within the cathedral-like interior come from maple reclaimed from the historic Loose-Wiles Biscuit Company in Long Island City, a ten-story facility that made Sunshine Crackers and Hydrox cookies that was once the world’s largest bakery. Those windows in the new space also drew Robertson in. “At the original Tartine, the kitchen is open to the street — it’s glass. The way the line wraps around the building, everyone is looking directly into the kitchen.” He says his intention is always to build something that guests find appealing, “but it needs to be nice for me and all the staff that’s working too.”
Altbau will have two enclosed, climate-controlled rooms — one for pastry (cold), the other for bread baking (warmer) — and a Bongard four-deck oven. To start, the menu will be simple, evolving as Robertson and his team grow into the space; he’s tapped Pam Yung — a vet of Semilla in Brooklyn and Flor in London — to run the place with him. Some of the things they’re working on include a jambon-beurre with local ham, and a BEC made with Japanese tamago instead of the usual griddled egg. There is also a version of the Argentine croissants known as medialunas, real-bran muffins, teacakes marbled with seasonal items like squash blossom and zucchini, focaccia, the occasional pizza, grilled cheese on sprouted rye, and open-faced tartines. Fresh bread will be baked just before lunch, at 11 a.m., and again before dinner around 4 p.m.
An upstairs space will be able to host visiting bakers from around the world — like Michael Schulze from Brotbruder in Freiburg, Germany, for his pretzels; and Bernardo Flores Alanís from BreAd Panaderos in Mexico for conchas — which is another unexpected perk of working in Brooklyn. “It’s easy to feel lonely in Los Angeles,” Robertson says, joking. “Thankfully everyone wants to come to New York.” The second floor features both vintage Tannoy Westminster hi-fi speakers and a 40-inch, medium-size New American Stone Mill, which Robertson will use to mill his own flour. When Roberston started baking in the ’90s, he says the general wisdom was, “You can’t bake with fresh-milled flour, it’s too volatile, it needs to age — but that’s not really true.” In fact, a surge of artisan bakers — among them, Brooklyn Granary & Mill, which opened last year — has put a renewed emphasis on regional flours and grains. Robertson will use both in addition to what he gets from Cairnspring Mills, a longtime favorite of his in the Pacific Northwest. He’s still getting used to the Northeast’s grain — our growing season is shorter and our flour is lower in protein than what’s found in California — but he’s especially excited about one local ingredient: maple syrup. “It’s expensive on the West Coast,” he says. “I’ve got a very good organic source in Pennsylvania.”
A native of West Texas, Robertson first found his calling in Western Massachusetts, citing Richard Bourdon at Berkshire Mountain Bakery as his mentor in the early 1990s. Robertson has been spreading the gospel of high-hydration doughs (porridge breads, breads with sweet potatoes and tahini purées) and long fermentations ever since. He still exudes the look of a longtime Californian — flip-flops and a scruffy surfer’s beard are something of a trademark — but he’s acclimating to life in the city, even if it wasn’t part of his original plan. “My whole goal was to simplify my life,” he says. “I wanted to walk a few blocks to work, and that fantasy is working out.”
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