Today we’d like to introduce you to Cheryl Richardson.
Cheryl, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
My sourdough story began fifteen years ago in England, though truthfully, I’ve been baking for my family for as long as I can remember. The formal chapter started when one of my daughter’s friend’s mums, Anna, gifted me a sourdough starter, not a newly mixed one, but a beautifully aged, well-traveled culture that had already lived in several countries before landing in my kitchen. I didn’t realize then that she wasn’t just handing over starter; she was entrusting me with a culinary heirloom.
That same starter has followed us through moves across continents, climates, and time zones. It survived my early learning curve, and that curve was memorable. In the first nine months, we produced more UFOs than loaves: Unidentified Fermented Objects. Some were frisbee-flat, some could have moonlighted as building materials, and a few were politely declined by the family dog. But with patience, persistence, and a great deal of humility, the starter and I found our rhythm.
Long before sourdough took hold, baking was simply part of my life and my family’s identity. Warm kitchens, homemade bread, hands in dough, feeding people was how we celebrated, how we cared, how we showed up for each other. When sourdough entered the picture, it didn’t replace that foundation; it deepened it.
What began as feeding my own household naturally grew into feeding neighbors, then friends, and eventually, a wider community here in Texas. That evolution was never part of a business plan. It was the result of sharing food that made people feel good.
And that is still the why.
Feeding families delicious, comforting, and nourishing food, bread with integrity, ingredients that matter, and flavor that feels like home, is what keeps the joy in the work. Knowing that what comes out of my oven finds its way to birthday tables, market mornings, holiday spreads, lunch boxes, midnight snack plates, and quiet kitchen moments is what puts the smile on my face and the spring in my step.
Mrs. Richardson’s Kitchen grew from:
a well-traveled starter,
a lifelong practice of feeding those I love,
and a belief that bread isn’t just sustenance, but connection.
I didn’t set out to open a bakery. I simply kept baking, kept sharing, and people kept coming back. And in that simple exchange, flour, time, patience, joy, a community formed.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
I wouldn’t call the road smooth. Deeply meaningful, humbling, and full of growth, yes. But smooth would be an oversimplification.
The journey began with learning a living starter across climates and continents, and it continued with new flours, fresh-milled grains, protein structures, hydration shifts, and fermentation quirks. In those early years, I produced more UFOs (Unidentified Fermented Objects) than loaves, but each one taught me patience, skill, and respect for a craft that refuses to be rushed.
As the bread grew more consistent, the complexity of running a micro bakery took its place:
cottage food regulations, sourcing, scheduling, pricing, menus, packaging, and the constant rhythm of dough timelines that do not care about clock time. Then came the second job I never expected, learning to promote and communicate that work publicly. Social media, photography, weekly menus, posting schedules, shifting algorithms, and customer communication all became part of the rhythm. It was a full education in visibility.
Eight years into this, COVID arrived, and everything changed overnight. Suddenly, bread was not just food; it was stability, comfort, and connection in a time defined by uncertainty. We moved to no-contact pickup, distanced porch tables, meticulous packaging, and a baking schedule that centered safety and reliability. Those months were demanding, but they clarified purpose: feeding people is a service, not a transaction.
And through every season, every steep curve, every early morning and late night, I was not alone.
My children learned the work beside me, packaging, greeting customers, labeling, organizing, carrying themselves with quiet confidence that comes only from doing real work that matters. Watching them grow alongside the bakery has been one of the truest rewards.
And there is also my husband, Mr. R, the steady center of this operation. The one who cleans flour-coated counters without commentary, loads the car before dawn, lifts the heavy trays, listens to menu brainstorming, and is both cheerleader and anchor when exhaustion sets in. His belief in what I do, and his hours in the background making the foreground possible, have been as foundational as the starter itself.
And behind the scenes, Mrs. K, our invaluable bakery assistant, keeps the wheels turning. Her hands, heart, attention, and reliability allow us to do what we do at the scale we do it. Her presence is woven into every successful bake day, packaging session, and market preparation.
This path is certainly not for the faint of heart. The mornings are early, the work is physical, the learning never stops. But the moment the oven door opens, the quiet heat, the lift of the loaf, the knowing that days of tending have become nourishment, remains as moving today as it was fifteen years ago.
The starter grew.
The bakery grew.
And we, as a family, grew with it.
The road has been textured, like a well-baked crust. And every bump has shaped the baker, the business, and the people who share the table.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about Mrs. Richardson’s Sourdough Kitchen?
Mrs. Richardson’s Kitchen is a micro bakery built on heritage fermentation, fresh-milled grains, thoughtful sourcing, and a deep respect for the craft of slow bread. What began as feeding my own family has grown into baking for a wider community, one loaf, one focaccia, one scone, and one conversation at a time.
We specialize in naturally leavened sourdough, bread made with patience, intention, and ingredients that honor both tradition and nutrition. Every loaf begins with the same old starter that has traveled with our family across the globe. Our grains are milled in-house, our inclusions are thoughtfully chosen, and our menus change weekly to reflect seasonality, local produce, and inspiration drawn from travels, culture, and memory.
What sets us apart is not simply the ingredient list, but the philosophy behind it:
Fermentation first, long, slow proofing for digestibility, flavor, and texture
Fresh milling, whole grains milled weekly for peak nutrition and aroma
Local & global sourcing, British cheddars, Italian pecorino, Sicilian olives, Texas jalapeños, European spices, seasonal herbs, local produce
Craft at human scale, every loaf is mixed, shaped, scored, and baked by hand
Our community knows us for:
sourdough loaves with global flavor profiles
artisanal focaccia layered with herbs, citrus, cheeses, and olives
fresh-baked scones that lean into the season
ferments rooted in Old-World tradition
dessert breads that feel celebratory yet familiar
and weekly menus that feel more like a story than a schedule
Brand-wise, I am most proud of the integrity behind the work. Nothing is rushed, nothing is outsourced, nothing is filler. If it carries our name, it carries intention, whether it’s a loaf for a holiday table, a dozen blueberry scones for a quiet morning, or focaccia for a weekend gathering.
I also want readers to know that we are, at our core, a family bakery. My children help with prep, packaging, and markets; my husband handles logistics, heavy lifting, and morale; and every customer who has stood in our line, shared our bread at a meal, or brought our bakes into their home has become part of that family rhythm.
We bake to nourish, not to mass-produce. We bake with curiosity, precision, and respect for ingredients that took months to grow, hours to ferment, and seconds to delight.
Mrs. Richardson’s Kitchen is rooted in:
slow food values
global flavors
freshly milled grains
family support
and an unwavering belief that bread should comfort, nourish, and connect people
Our goal is simple: to feed our community well. To show up week after week with loaves that feel both elevated and familiar, both crafted and generous, bread that tastes like care.
Any advice for finding a mentor or networking in general?
My path was shaped long before tutorials, reels, and endless baking feeds existed. I learned sourdough in the era of library cards, cookbooks stacked on kitchen counters, and handwritten notes taped to flour-dusted cabinets. It was observation, practice, intention, and patience, not algorithms. I didn’t have YouTube to rescue a collapsing dough at midnight; I had intuition, trial, error, and a very old starter that refused to be rushed.
Because of that, my “mentors” didn’t look like formal teachers. They were woven together from many places: Anna, who gifted me the starter and set all of this in motion; millers who taught me to respect grain; farmers who taught me origin; artisan bakers willing to answer odd questions; and customers who became part of the feedback loop. Learning came from doing, failing, adjusting, listening, rather than consuming content.
Networking for me has never been about exchanging business cards or building follower counts. It has been built loaf by loaf, week by week, market by market. What worked best was showing up consistently, remembering names, valuing conversations, and feeding people well. When you nourish people, they return, not just for bread, but for connection.
The principles that have guided me are simple:
Taking the time to truly learn.
There is no shortcut for understanding fermentation. It teaches you on its own time.
Ask questions without pride or apology.
Curiosity is the engine of mastery.
Build relationships, not contacts.
Community lasts longer than marketing trends.
Share knowledge generously.
There is room for all of us at the table.
Seek craft community instead of competition.
The world of real bread is demanding; we rise better together.
I am grateful I learned in the quiet era of stacks of books, notebooks, and practice rather than pressure. It allowed me to develop instinct before instruction, to listen to dough, not digital noise.
If anything, that is my advice:
Don’t rush yourself to match the pace of a platform. Honor the craft at human speed. Bread is alive. It responds to patience, respect, attention, and time. If you build relationships, show up, and feed people with intention, networking becomes less of a strategy and more of a natural, meaningful extension of the work
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.mrsrichardsonskitchen.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mrs._richardsons_kitchen/?hl=en
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/357805791647586
- Other: https://linktr.ee/mrs_richardsons_kitchen
Image Credits
Madison Hozdic Sophia Richardson Cheryl Richardson
