Sourdough for the Soul: Glutenmolly on Coping Through Cooking and Awakening Your Inner-Chef

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Molly Stead (glutenmolly) with her 30% spelt sourdough boule, photo provided by the interviewee

At one point during the pandemic, it’s likely that your Instagram feed was filled with mutuals cheffing up something. Whether it be banana bread or sourdough, it’s without a doubt that younger people have turned to cooking and baking to kill time in the era of COVID-19. However, to longtime home cook and baker Molly Stead (AKA glutenmolly), there is more to the rise (pun intended) in bread making than it being a simple time-filler; it’s therapeutic.

Other than her sentimental approach to cooking, Stead is setting herself apart as a Gen-Z head-chef in many ways. From crafting Vancouver-exclusive holiday recipes for her experimental cookie biz, to promoting cooking from a resourceful, accessible and anti-diet culture stance, Stead has found a way to make her passion wholly her own, and share it with her online following.

We had the chance to connect with Stead to chat about her relationship with the culinary arts and how she is breaking conventions surrounding the world of foodie Instagram. Check out our full conversation below!

Zoë Argiropulos-Hunter for Also Cool: Hi Molly! Thank you so much for collaborating with Also Cool. To start, can you tell our readers a little bit about yourself and where your passion for cooking began?  

Molly Stead: I’m a home cook and baker currently based out of Ottawa. I grew up in Vancouver, and cooking was always a big part of my life from a young age. Both my parents, especially my dad, were always experimenting in the kitchen and loved to cook, so I guess my love of cooking started there. I went vegetarian and moved into my first apartment at the same time in 2017, which forced me to learn a lot about cooking and nutrition very quickly. It was that year I started a food account on Instagram as a separate space to record the food related things I was learning about and experimenting with. I’m no longer vegetarian, but I still love to cook and bake, so this account has stuck around!

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Labbneh balls coated in zaatar, nigella seeds, sumac, and toasted sesame with Aleppo pepper, by Molly Stead via glutenmolly

Also Cool: Do you have any dishes that are a particular favourite to craft? Or, are there perhaps any that you lean to because of a strong connection or memory associated with it?

Molly Stead: I feel like this answer has become a little unoriginal because of the pandemic, but I adore bread baking and especially baking sourdough bread. I became obsessed with bread baking in my early teens and I would bake multiple loaves a week at that age. I had recently lost a close family member, and in hindsight, bread baking was something I dived into to cope with grief. Despite the circumstances that kick-started this hobby and skill, bread baking has evolved into an extremely grounding and joyful practice. I specifically started baking sourdough the summer of 2019 and almost 100% of my loaves are naturally leavened. This means that no commercial yeast is added, which is something I am very proud of! I love the challenge and care maintaining a sourdough starter requires. It’s sort of like a low maintenance pet. 

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Sifted red fife flour and whole spelt flour sourdough batard, by Molly Stead via umamimolly

 AC: Like you said, there has undoubtedly been a surge in baking during the pandemic; what are your thoughts on this phenomenon as an already avid chef/baker?  

MS: The most obvious answer to everyone baking in the pandemic is because we are all stuck at home, but I think there is more to it than just that. Similarly to how I used bread baking as a coping mechanism for dealing with grief in my early teens, I think many people turned to bread baking in the pandemic to cope with grieving the loss of normalcy. It sounds a little corny, but I think there’s some truth to it. Bread is a living process: when you break down the process and look at the science behind it, it can be simplified as creating a healthy and nourishing environment (flour + water + salt + the right temperature) for little microorganisms (sourdough starter aka “wild yeast,” or store bought conventional yeast). You capture the peak moment of this happy little microorganism home by baking it. To be able to create something as impressive and nourishing as a loaf of bread out of just a few ingredients is so rewarding.

AC: In that vein, do you have any advice for people just starting to venture out into the world of cuisine?

MS: I think a lot of cooking is more intuitive than people think. If you’re just starting off, try recreating things from your childhood or playing around with ingredients you know you love. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes and just have fun! Some of the best things I’ve cooked and baked have been the result of mistakes. While fancy gadgets and specialty ingredients can be fun, there really isn’t a need for that and anyone can have fun in the kitchen just using what they’re comfortable with and have access to. 

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Lemon cake with lemon cream cheese frosting and local strawberries, by Molly Stead via umamimolly

AC: Outside of your independent love of cooking, you're involved with so many related projects! Let's talk about the cooking zine KitchenSink, of which you are an editor and contributor. Can you tell me about how the first issue "Comfort in Times of Change" came to be?  

MS: I think something unique about KitchenSink is that it came together super organically, and was intended to be a community-driven project from the start. A couple of months ago, Danielle posted about seeking help for creating a collaborative zine to explore everyday food feelings during the pandemic. Myself, alongside quite a few others, expressed interest in helping, so she created a group chat and we figured everything out from there! We ended up receiving way more submissions than we anticipated, and we were able to publish the vast majority of them in volume one. We accept anything from illustrations, essays, poetry, and photography, as long as it is related to food and the theme. KitchenSink zine really is a labour of love because it was made and organized by a handful of similarly-minded young people who wanted to talk about the realities of food, nostalgia, and obviously comfort as we cooked and baked our way through this turbulent year.

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Sourdough discard, acid whey, and cornmeal pancakes with yogurt and homemade blueberry compote, by Molly Stead via glutenmolly

AC: Branching off of that, you've also spearheaded an experimental Instagram cookie business, Kuketista, with your friend Jade. How do you two come up with your incredibly unique recipes? 

MS: My friend Jade and I started up Kuketista a few months ago out of a combination of pandemic boredom and a shared love of baking and cooking. Our original year-round cookie is called Zander, and is a miso-rye-sourdough dark chocolate chunk cookie. We both do sourdough baking, so we knew we wanted to incorporate sourdough discard into a cookie because of the amazing flavor and texture it provides to baked goods. We also both prefer cookies that are not overwhelmingly sweet and have a good contrast of flavours and textures, so it made sense to make the year-round cookie a fun chocolate chunk cookie. The miso adds extra umami and fully replaces the salt in the cookie batter, while the rye flour rounds everything out with a punch of earthiness. I can honestly say that Zander is the best chocolate chunk cookie I’ve ever made.

In addition to our year-round cookie, we decided to have changing monthly cookies rather than a larger pre-set menu because we wanted to highlight seasonal ingredients and flavours.  Our current monthly cookie for January is affectionately named Rob, and is one of my favorites so far. It’s a toasted oat and whiskey cookie with raspberry jam, white rabbit candy-inspired drizzle, and sliced almonds. It draws inspiration from the Vancouver-based cultural event Gung Haggis Fat Choy. Gung Haggis Fat Choy is a Robbie Burns Day x Lunar New Year celebration that has been one of the main fundraisers for the Asian Canadian Writers’ Workshop (ACWF). Gung Haggis Fat Choy was not able to run this year due to the pandemic, so we are donating a portion of sales from our January cookie to the ACWF. Additionally, if you send us your donation receipt to the ACWF, we’ll share the recipe for our January cookie in exchange! 

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Kuketista January cookie “Rob,” photo by Molly Stead via umamimolly

AC: Before we let you go, we'd love to know about any other projects you're working on! We know that you have an upcoming Instagram takeover with Doof magazine, which is so exciting!  

MS: Yes! I’m really excited to do a Doof takeover later this year. In case you aren’t familiar with them, Doof is a magazine that celebrates everyday eating and cooking. They have different people do Instagram takeovers every week and I have one lined up for late March. They also recently raised enough money for their first print issue. I’m hoping to elaborate more on bread baking and grief in my takeover, draw attention to ongoing food sovereignty and food justice issues, and post a few simple recipes for baked goods using sourdough starter discard.

Other than the Doof takeover, I’m pretty busy developing recipes for Kuketista (our February cookies are going to be so fun!) while also working a full time job. You can keep up with me on Instagram if you’re interested in a lot of sourdough content and the occasional food-related rant and selfie.

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Dark chocolate rosemary olive oil cake with miso buttercream, cherry compote and fresh blackberries, photo by Molly Stead via glutenmolly

Molly Stead

Instagram | Kuketista | KitchenSink

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Re-Visiting The Lower Plateau: A Love Letter to the Community

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Last month, I found myself stuck in a rapid rotation of calls, content-binging, and checking my phone. A Facebook scroll tells me a movie I saw at Lux Magna last winter is now up on YouTube. It was snowing lightly that day: the Plateau street lamps gave off a cozy winter glow that makes you want to stay in, curled-up in a blanket— the perfect setting for a rewatch.

While the snow fell outside my window, I watched the all-too-relatable Jaine (Nikki Shaffeeullah) wander the snowy streets of Montreal in The Lower Plateau, pondering her life, her relationships, and whether or not she should decisively bounce to Toronto. Produced by Montreal’s Dépanneur Films, the movie gives a window into life as a young anglophone navigating a hard Montreal winter in and around Saint-Laurent. Alongside my own memories on St. Lau (which now include the somber image of a long line outside Segal’s), the movie was a fun, nostalgic trip around familiar streets that have felt anxious and empty as of late. 

The film’s writer and director Liz Singh drew on her own life to tell this story in the film, integrating her community to make the film with a small team on a tight budget. I had the opportunity to chat with Liz, and producers Amanda Murphy and Clare Raspopow about Dépanneur Films, their team process, and what the film means to them. 

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Liz currently works at Head and Hands, coordinating youth outreach and support with a harm reduction approach. Liz’s job has involved distributing essential harm reduction supplies to people and organizations, and setting up a chat-line for Montreal youth who have questions about COVID-19. 

A McGill cultural studies grad originally from Windsor, Ontario, Liz returned to Montreal a few years ago after studying film at the University of Southern California. She was ready to jump into filmmaking, but found the scene discouraging. “At the time I was bartending, and struggling to write. I’d meet people from the film industry, some were creeps or just pretending, and I had several offers to work in porn — some well-intentioned, and some less so.” After going through some experiences like her character Jaine’s (no spoilers, go watch the movie), she cut her hair, visited India, and wrote what would become the film’s script.

Realizing the film required a team that Liz could rely on, and who she felt comfortable with. Enter Clare and Amanda, close friends of Liz who both have a wealth of experience and perspective on studying, living, and working in Montreal over the past decade. The Lower Plateau was a debut feature production for both of them.

Clare and Amanda both described Liz as a generous collaborator, happy to share a lot of her own skills and expertise. “Liz and I were bartending at Bifteck at the time,” says Amanda, who has a background in writing and in community work. “I was helping out during production and continued to take on different work for the film. It was a great atmosphere, no one would shame you for not knowing things.” According to Liz, “What keeps women and marginalized people out of the industry is this myth that you need expertise to make film.”

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Still from The Lower Plateau (2018)

One topic that came up often in our conversation was this ability to make independent art with the support of a creative ecosystem like Montreal’s. “This isn’t a movie that could be made in another city,” says Clare. It’s common knowledge that this community support lends itself to the unique art culture in Montreal. “People can make art even when it’s not necessarily their job, give their time to work on other people’s projects,” adds Amanda.

As the cost of living goes up, this lifestyle becomes less and less tenable. Even from 2017, (when the Lower Plateau was filmed), to now, changes in the neighborhood highlight the tensions taking place as the ecosystem evolves. “The Lower Plateau was slated to be completely demolished by the city. It was going to be razed, and they were going to build a new neighborhood there because it was economically depressed, and by virtue of Montreal starting projects and not finishing them, that never happened. It became a cool and affordable area. Artists moved in and dive bars popped up. You could be an independent business, rent wasn’t too expensive, and it generated its own creative scene,” Clare explains. “Now, you can see the stress between the longstanding businesses that contributed to the livelihood of the neighbourhood, and you can feel the neighborhood shutting down. One of the venues we shot in, Le Divan Orange, was shut down because their neighbours didn’t like the noise that a music venue is bound to make. It was an institution that made the neighborhood what it was - a home for artists.” 

Gentrification in the area means that spaces are emptier, and it’s palpable. “I think the Airbnbs are toxic to our neighbourhoods, and I’ve got to say, if some of the more predatory versions of it can get shut down after COVID-19 it’ll be a silver lining,” says Liz. “There’s also a huge unhoused community, despite there being room for them.” 

“It’s not all sad,” points out Clare. The Plateau still retains that quality, and is still diverse and thriving on many fronts. “I like to think of [right now] as a dip, and I hope that feeling comes back — and it remains a place where people can try new things, and discover who they are, and play their Alanis Morissette covers.”

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Still from The Lower Plateau (2018)

As for the future of Dépanneur Films, all three tell me there is plenty of content in the works, and they are currently writing grant applications. The Lower Plateau is now up on YouTube, and free to watch. They have a few web series written, pending funding, and a short film they are ready to shoot as soon as it’s safe and responsible to do so. “We are hoping we can make this short film, boost our views, and sort of boost our credentials through that.” 

Reflecting on life and art, after quarantine, Liz is positive. “I think people will make some amazing art, and we’ll all experiment with ways to share it with one another. We’re working on a series of writing workshops right now, and I’m really hoping to plug into different kinds of support. We’ll see what we can do. We’re excited to see what happens.” 

Stream The Lower Plateau here
Follow the The Lower Plateau

If you are interested in Dépanneur Films’ writing workshops, contact their team here

By Nabeela Jivraj

Nabeela is from Calgary, and came to Montreal to study and work in public health.

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Bringing the Runway to Your Bedroom: Montreal Collective Launches "Dressing up at Home"

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Dress Up team: Tosca Webb (left), Betsy-May Smith (middle) and Annie Brebner (right) photo provided by Dress Up

Lately, quarantine has got us like:

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In all serious though, putting together an outfit in these times of self-isolation is the only thing keeping us sane. Not only does the process instill a sense of normalcy, but it can rekindle memories, spark confidence, and also inspire the wildest fashion experiments. Whether you find yourself reaching for something cinched and sequined, or pairing a funky eyeshadow colour with your favourite pair of sweatpants, the important thing to remember is that there are no rules when it comes to the quarantine runway!

This is the philosophy behind Montreal’s Dress Up collective, both online and IRL. Today, Dress Up launches a new series on their website called “Dressing Up at Home,” a look-book of their followers’ best quarantine ensembles. We chatted with two of the minds behind Dress Up, Tosca Webb and Annie Brebner, to get a sense of how “Dressing Up at Home” is maintaining a sense of community within Montreal and beyond, and what the act itself means to them during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Also Cool: Hi Dress Up! Who are you, and how has your collective evolved since it first started?

Dress Up: Hi! We’re a Montreal-based fashion collective that was founded on the belief that fashion is a tool of expression, and that everyone deserves the opportunity to explore that expression without judgement. Dress Up began as an underground event series where we’d provide a curation of vintage clothing for guests to come dress up in, dance, have fun, and meet each other. 

Dress Up was born as a passion project, but over the last year we’ve become really excited about the idea of it transitioning into our full-time jobs and growing a company. We’ve had to postpone a lot due to COVID-19… We had plans to launch a new merch line, an online magazine and a vintage e-commerce shop, and bring our events to new cities like Toronto and New York. It’ll all happen, it’s just on pause for a bit! 

AC: You’ve moved your IRL events to “Dressing Up at Home.” Tell us about this new series, and what you hope it can do to strengthen the community right now.

DU: This series came about in a really organic way. We were both overwhelmed by the impact of COVID-19, and thinking about taking a break from Dress Up altogether. We felt inspired by the way folks are staying connected through social media, especially in quarantine. Social media, namely selfies and Instagram stories, are a way of saying “I’m still here,” and posting can make you feel relevant and connected to your friends.

More than anything, we just wanted to provide an opportunity for people to feel seen and heard. We all deserve that! This series has been a really amazing way for us to use our platform to amplify people’s voices. Reading through submissions has been so special: we’re always amazed by people’s vulnerability and creativity. It’s such a bizarre and scary time for all of us, so to read a story that may resonate with you, or to feel inspired by someone’s makeup, or give people a reason to get dressed… It all feels very bonding.

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“Dressing Up at Home” contributor Elle

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“Dressing Up at Home” contributor Kayliegh

AC: How does dressing up at home make you feel? What inspires you to do it?

DU: Waking up every day and getting dressed has helped us maintain a sense of normalcy and routine. Seeing people’s submissions has been wild... You guys are pulling some looks, and we are not up to par! What’s amazing about a project like this is that it’s so varied, in that everyone’s inspirations explorations of dressing at home are extremely diverse. Advocating for “no rules” is something we’ve always wanted to embrace as a brand. We feel really lucky and proud to be a part of something like Dress Up, and to be working alongside such creative, eccentric, exciting, and kind people. They’re the ones who inspire us to keep working and moving forward!

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“Dressing Up at Home” contributor Bianca

AC: How can we submit to “Dressing Up at Home,” and where can we keep up to date with Dress Up?

We have all the submission guidelines posted in our ‘SUBMIT’ Instagram story highlight, and we’re accepting submissions through our email. To stay up to date, follow our Instagram where we're sharing excerpts from the series, and check out the full series on the Dress Up website!

Keep up with the Dress Up team!

Annie (left)

Tosca (middle)

Betsy (right)

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A Playdate with Emilie Kneifel: Self-Isolation, Creative Self-Care & Colouring

Photo provided by PLAYD8s

When was the last time you had a playdate? 

A few weeks back, Emilie Kneifel and I had a video call to talk about their project PLAYD8s, a kid-inspired, bilingual video interview series created in collaboration with Nadia Davoli all about how artists and thinkers find ways to play. So far, Emilie has hung out with eight unique guests, ranging from Ashley Obscura of Metatron Press, to her grand-maman. We ended up having a bit of a play date ourselves and talked about how colour defines certain sections of our lives, and the platonic touch of good art. 

Fast forward to now: We’re all experiencing isolation and practicing social and physical distancing due to COVID-19. While I was transcribing my conversation with Emilie, I thought it was a bit surreal that we had spoken so extensively about how to be okay with being alone, and how we can do so restfully. 

I hope our conversation brings you the same comfort it brought me. It made me feel like I was a kid again. 

Photo provided by PLAYD8s

Malaika Astorga for Also Cool: How did the idea for the show first come about? At what point in your isolation did you decide to make a project about it?

Emilie Kneifel for PLAYD8s: I first started getting sick in 2017. When you’re isolated when you choose not to be, everything becomes magnified and you become really aware of other people’s presence. I got really into reading interviews and profiles with artists. It was a way for me to be with people without being drained energetically. I started daydreaming about this universe where I could listen to people talking about themselves. 

I was thinking about how we spent time together as kids, and how precious playtime was. Not only in that it was fun, but also because I think that when you’re a kid, you’re aware of things ending in a certain kind of way. Someone’s always there to tell you that it’s time to go to school, or that it’s bedtime. Whereas when we’re adolescents, there’s this feeling of invincibility that I didn’t have anymore, and that changed my perspective.

Also Cool: It seems like you became aware of how you were coping with isolation, and what that had transformed into. When did that shift happen? Was it conscious, or did you just let yourself exist and this show is what came from it?

Emilie: I think that I’m constantly existing on multiple levels of observation. I’m very aware of myself all the time, always helicopter-mom-ing myself, asking: “How am I reacting to this?” But also, you can’t understand an era, until it has become an era.

I think that even in the era of making PlayD8s, I was figuring out who and what I wanted it to be. Now I’m figuring out that we’ve made it. There’s this layered awareness of constantly observing, but being aware that there are certain things that I’m not able to know right away.

Photo provided by PLAYD8s

Also Cool: It’s hard when you’re in an era, and you know that you are… but you don’t know what it’ll look like yet. 

Emilie: There’s this creature that I learned about in my last semester in university. It spends its whole life swimming up sugar gradients, and when the sugar runs out, it turns and finds more sugar. I thought, oh my gosh, that’s how I want to be! 

Sometimes I ruminate… constantly trying to figure out the puzzle of what’s going on. When something becomes a paralysis, I get out of it by thinking: “Does this taste good?” (thinking about the sugar), and if it does, I keep doing what I’m doing. If it doesn’t, then I don’t do it anymore. It’s really taught me about the slow accumulation of things.

It’s allowed me to be a lot calmer about [being isolated]. If what I’m doing feels good, then I can allow myself to stay in that place. I used to be so afraid of getting stuck, and being pigeonholed, and I would be really afraid of any decision. But it was a self-fulfilling prophecy where I would just end up getting stuck because I wouldn’t end up doing anything at all. It’s been a way for me to hack my own anxiety.

AC: What are your thoughts on community? Where do you find fulfilment from community in general, and what does the word mean to you?

Emilie: In a lot of ways, PLAYD8s was an attempt at figuring out how one can be with other people who are making and doing things. I just needed to make something that felt like how I want to be with people. I think that I’m a one-on-one hanger-outer. The show allowed me to be with someone, and to ask them about their thoughts. That’s the way that I can exist most wholly, and most like myself. 

You know when you go to a party with all your friends, and after you feel like you didn’t actually see anyone? I have to believe that there’s a way to feel like you’re a part of something without having to be a part of a huge group. Community can just be you and one other person, playing in your bedroom. 

There’s an episode of the show where Me-Me, my character, decides to play alone for a day. It felt important to emphasize that play, and community building, doesn’t have to be with other people constantly. There are other aspects of that life that can make it whole, or complete.

AC: It’s important to ask: “Do I actually like this, or am I doing this because this is how it’s always been?”

Emilie: For sure! For example, the way that we play on the show is through colouring. I find maintaining constant eye contact really draining. Even though it's a really important part of communication, it’s just one thing that will make me fatigued really quickly. 

Colouring was a way to be with the person, while also being able to have an activity. The people who were on the show felt like they were able to take their space to sit with the questions [I was asking].

AC: What’s an ideal way to interact with your community? If there was a way that community could get together, though that doesn’t really happen right now, what would that experience be like?

Emilie: That’s definitely what I was trying to do with Playd8s. I’ll explain the different elements of it that I liked about it, that I’d like to have in other parts of my life. 

It’s about tempo and rhythm, and doing things at your own pace without a pressure to perform wellness. Everyone is doing what they need to do in a given moment. Like sitting down at a show, or excusing yourself to rest in the middle of something for 10 minutes; that flexibility, without being considered rude or having to explain yourself. 

I’ve definitely found that, with other disabled and/or chronically ill people, to be near someone in a way that feels safe [is important]. Safety was a big part of making the show as well, as a huge environmental factor. I don’t think we have to act serious in order to be able to be taken seriously. I think if we were able to do that, we would all take a collective exhale.

AC: What’s your relationship to colour, and colouring? How do you communicate through that?

Emilie: The colouring felt like archiving the conversations. The whole point of the project was for it to be fun. One thing that my dad always said to me growing up when I was doing an activity that I was growing out of was that, “it’s supposed to be fun.” Even if we lost all the footage and sound, I wanted the playdates themselves to be a fun experience. 

I feel like colours are people in my life. I just got through a really intense orange phase. That doesn’t mean I’m wearing the colour, but I’m noticing it all the time. It seems to be following me the way that the moon follows you in the car. It feels like a presence, like a friend who’s there for you. I know orange is thinking of me because I’m seeing orange. 

Colour is important to me because of my chronic fatigue, I’m more sensitive to it. Lately I haven’t been able to look at red. It makes me feel like all the energy is being sucked out of my body, like Harry Potter dementors. It wasn’t always like that, red was my favourite colour for two years. I still like red, like as a friend, but right now we're taking a bit of a break.

AC: Is there anything else you’d like to mention that we haven’t covered?

Emilie: If there is an intention I could offer for the show, it would be this: I think that the show can seem just “pink and pretty,” but I want to make it clear that this is something that someone could watch [to feel less alone.] 

Something I think about a lot is platonic touch, and how rarely we are touched by people who aren’t asking anything of us. I think that art can be that because it can be so generous in its ideal form, where someone can consume something and just feel held or loved. It's a very big hope, but that's what I wish for. Either on the level of the people who made the show, or the guests on the show, or even one of the people who will watch it. I hope that they will feel like they had a friend, or that they were a part of something. 

Photo provided by PLAYD8s

PLAYD8s w/ u + me-me is a bilingual video interview series created by Montreal-based creatives Emilie Kneifel and Nadia Davoli. The eight-episode season is hosted by Me-Me (played by Emilie Kneifel) who interviews artists, thinkers, and her grand-maman about how they have played, play, and how they would like to play. Sitting on a bed full of pillows, they colour with crayons and explore play in a particular theme: sound, language, aesthetics, solitude, religion, science, imagination, and family. Each episode lasts about 45 minutes.

Watch PLAYD8s on YouTube

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