Hi there. I’m Marlene Quinn, 43 years old, currently kneading away in the small, windswept coastal town of Mendocino, California. My kitchen overlooks the Pacific, and most mornings start with the salty fog rolling in as my sourdough starter bubbles away on the counter like an old friend waking up for the day. I’m a baker, a mother, and a lifelong student of fermentation magic.
My love for sourdough began in the most unlikely way—through failure. In my early twenties, I was trying to impress a date with a rustic French boule. The crust could’ve cracked a tooth, the crumb was dense and gummy, and the date never called back. But I was hooked. That loaf might’ve been a disaster, but the science and alchemy behind it lit something in me. I spent years chasing the perfect balance of flour, water, salt, and time. I’ve had loaves that split like tectonic plates and others that rose like poetry. Every one of them taught me something.
I didn’t go to culinary school. Instead, I apprenticed with bakers who worked barefoot in wood-fired kitchens and grannies who eyeballed everything and had no time for thermometers. I learned to trust my senses. The feel of the dough, the sound of the crust cooling, the smell when it’s just right—those became my teachers. I’ve since taught workshops across the country, from Brooklyn basements to Oregon farmhouses, always with a big jar of starter tucked safely in my bag.
I believe sourdough belongs to everyone. Whether you’re a line cook with a tattoo of a wheat stalk or a teenager trying your first bake during a rainy weekend, there’s something grounding and joyful in it. I share recipes, yes, but more importantly, I share my mistakes. I’ve forgotten salt. I’ve scorched loaves. I’ve killed starters (may their yeasty souls rest in peace). And every flop just adds more flavor to the story.
Now, I run a small bakery and fermentary called “Marlene & Crumb,” where we do weekly bake-alongs, sourdough Q&As, and the occasional open-mic night where people read poems about bread (yes, really). It’s a place for learning, laughter, and the occasional flour fight. If you’re here, curious or crust-obsessed, beginner or James Beard hopeful—you’re in good company. Let’s bake some joy together.