Bread – and a better world – rise at ACQ Bread Co., by Katherine Rivard

Just a block from my apartment is a little bakery, almost hidden amongst the surrounding houses, a block from the BQE. Though I’d occasionally seen lines wrapping around the block, I was hesitant to give it a try, as a visit to their website revealed a price tag of $11 per loaf. Two weeks ago, I decided to splurge and see what was worth the wait. One bite and I was converted. I’m now convinced that ACQ Bread Co. is one of Carroll Gardens’ best-kept secrets.

Inspired and hoping to learn more about the bakery for this article, I popped into the small shop again last week. Behind the counter were Tyler Lee Steinbrenner, owner and baker at ACQ Bread Co., and his coworker, Nico Coppelman. After explaining that I was trying to write about ACQ, they welcomed me into the bakery with kind, bashful smiles. That’s the first thing to note about this bakery—the kindness and thoughtfulness of both Steinbrenner and Coppelman come through in both their interactions with customers and their menu.

Before opening ACQ, Steinbrenner worked at Michelin-starred restaurants as a “bread designer”. Furloughed at the start of the pandemic, and amidst the protests that followed the murder of George Floyd, he began making bread and donating it to activists and essential workers. From this noble cause, Anti-Conquest, AKA ACQ, Bread Co. was born.

At first it was a one-man show. He found a former catering space at 543 Clinton Street, scrubbed the place from top to bottom, and started baking the next week. At the time, he was using cast iron pans left behind by the previous occupants. “I probably made between 15-20,000 cast iron sourdoughs,” he estimated. He also did all the mixing by hand and delivered the loaves on his cargo bike.

These days he has upgraded to a commercial mixer and customers come to him to pick up their bread. Coppelman helps him run the bakery, and a new staff member (Ellis) will soon support the front of house. While the bread was previously only available via advance orders, you can now stop by three days a week (Thursday, Friday, and Saturday) between 4pm and 7pm, find them at the Carroll Gardens Farmer’s Market each Sunday starting at 8am, or join their CSA to guarantee a weekly loaf (or two).

Speaking with Steinbrenner, you sense an interesting mix of workaholic, perfectionist, activist, and artist. In fact, before becoming a bread guy, he was a painter. “It may sound corny, but bread is sculpture, and the ovens are kilns.” The result of his artistry—phenomenal bread. And others agree: ACQ currently has 59 Google reviews, 56 of which gave the bread five stars, the highest ranking.

The menu of bread is meant to be as nutritious as possible, while still being inventive (and certainly tasty). For example, Mountain Bread is a newer addition to the menu, the product of Steinbrenner’s most recent camping trip. Searching for a heartier loaf that he could pair with some cheese and salami, the loaf is 35% rye accented with locally sourced soy sauce and local, wood-fired maple syrup. The Living Bread is perhaps the most healthy option—a seedy, glutinous sandwich loaf that Steinbrenner describes as his take on an ‘80s health bread. ACQ also bakes fantastic sourdough loaves (in either a boule or Pullman loaf – ideal for sandwiches), milk bread, and fermented rye chocolate chip cookies (only $4). In case you’re interested in zhuzhing up your toast further, the bakery recently added a tiny fridge with a small selection of local dairy products: mini wheels of triple crème cheese (made from goat’s milk and Jersey cow cream in Thurman, NY), Stella Vallis (a hard cheese from Chaseholm Farm in the Hudson Valley), a sharp cheddar (handmade in Upstate NY made from raw milk cheese), and small batch cultured butter (grass-fed from Arethusa Farm in Connecticut).

While ACQ’s bread is an art, it’s also an intentional stand against a flawed food system.  “I feel oddly about charging what I do…” began Steinbrenner, as we discussed the food system in the United States, the “depreciating costs of the ‘80s and ‘90s,” and the state of food today—where so much of our food is processed, packaged, and shipped, in a process that delivers products devoid of nutrition and flavor, and almost as little value to those who work within the system. ACQ’s prices instead reflect the true cost of quality ingredients from local producers. All the flour used is independently grown and freshly milled in New York and Pennsylvania, ensuring that the bakery engages in a healthy baking ecosystem. ACQ also moves beyond attempting to repair the damaged food system by giving back to the community. Each week the bakery donates 100 portions of milk bread to the Chinese Community Council in Sunset Park and all loaves that are not sold are donated to other local mutual aid groups.

Visiting my mother over the holidays, she picked up a big sourdough loaf from Wegmans for us to enjoy. The next morning, I eagerly toasted a slice and smothered it in avocado and olive oil. As I bit into the fat-laden toast, I knew right away—I’d been spoiled by ACQ. For hundreds of years, bread has been a necessity in many cultures, and while ACQ’s prices push their bread into an almost luxury category, the difference is felt in each bite and in each stage of the baking process—from sourcing to labor. Maybe the problem isn’t that ACQ bread costs $11, but that we live in a society where so few items are grown or made in a healthy, sustainable way for both producers and consumers.

A Star-Revue Contributor