For Chris of Morningside Bread Company, the process is the point
Before there was Morningside Bread Company, there was a starter.
For Christian (Chris) McCague, sourdough began as curiosity — a way to stretch a dollar and make something meaningful at home. In 2015, without TikTok tutorials or shortcuts, he bought books, called bakeries, and learned the slow way: trial and error. Feeling the dough. Paying attention.
What began as an experiment became something much bigger. Because for Chris, baking isn’t just about the finished loaf.
“The process is the point.”
Sourdough demands patience. You build a relationship with the starter. You wait days while fermentation does its quiet work. The result isn’t just flavor — it’s transformation. “This was the first processed food human beings ever made,” Chris says. “Every culture has bread. There’s something about it.”
Real sourdough can’t be rushed. And that intention — that care — is what he’s bringing to Harvest on Main.
Made to be Shared
When Harvest on Main Community Market opens soon, you’ll find Chris’ sourdough focaccia sliced fresh on the shelves. Rosemary and olive oil are folded into the dough, topped with flaky salt. It’s bubbly and crackly, both sweet and savory — sturdy enough for a sandwich, simple enough to tear and dip in olive oil.
Alongside his focaccia, you’ll also find Chris’ brown butter chocolate chip cookies made with excess sourdough starter that would otherwise be discarded. Folded into the dough, it rounds out the sweetness and adds a subtle savory depth.
Nothing wasted. Everything intentional.
“Part of Someone’s Day”
“It’s the happiest job I’ve ever had,” Chris says, of baking. “Being a part of someone’s day.”
For Chris, that’s what feeding people means. Not production. Not volume. But knowing something you made becomes part of someone’s meals — part of their routines, their tables, their memories. “There’s responsibility that comes with that,” he says.
When Chris looks at Harvest on Main, he recognizes that same sense of care. “They seem to be going about this the way every neighborhood should be,” he says. “They’re doing something noble — and they’re doing it well.” For Chris, what stands out isn’t just the heart behind the mission. It’s that the execution rises to meet it. The food is thoughtful. The quality is high. The details matter.
“People want to talk about community,” he says. “But that doesn’t just happen on its own.”
Chris believes it takes leaders like Executive Director Bonnie DeMotte and Director of Operations Jill Chiu — and the partners they’ve surrounded themselves with — who are willing to do the steady, daily work of building something that truly serves neighbors. For Chris, community isn’t abstract. It’s practical. It’s showing up. It’s feeding people. It’s creating spaces where neighbors can gather.
When you pick up a loaf of focaccia this spring, you’re not just buying bread. You’re holding days of fermentation. Years of learning. Hands that shaped it. A neighbor who chose to show up.
Because community doesn’t just happen on its own. It’s baked fresh every day.