Bread as it was meant to be. No added junk. Pure and locally sourced. Three Northern experts have consciously chosen to rediscover the cycle from grain to guest. In the kitchen of restaurant Dokjard in Groningen, this chain comes to life. Farmer, miller, baker, and chef together tell the story of the region.
From mass to masterpiece
"I used to bake a thousand loaves of bread a day," says Patrick Harms in his bakery in Vries, where the aroma of fresh spelt bread blends with the heat of the brick oven. "We had four shops and forty employees. Everything was going well, but I primarily became a manager and was no longer a baker." Ten years ago, he changed course. He closed his shops and started over, on a small scale. "I wanted to return to the craft. Not mass production, but attention. Bread with a story."
Nowadays, that story begins with the farmer in Gasteren, where wheat, rye, and spelt grow on the Hondsrug. From there, the grain goes to Mill Mulder Pot in Kropswolde, where it is ground into flour. Patrick then bakes his bread from it, in small batches, and without bread improvers. Everything is done by hand: the cutting, the decorating by hand, and then everything by hand in the oven.
"It's a conscious choice," he says. "Everything made here is regional. The miller tests every grain in his laboratory. I know exactly what I'm baking with and what I'm using. And the best part: I never throw anything away. People order through my webshop, so I bake only what's needed. That's sustainability for me."
Three generations of millers
Miller Jan Pot's family has been practicing the craft for three generations. "My father and grandfather also milled," he says proudly. "We're now the only mill in the three northern provinces that still grinds commercially."
Mulder Pot processes thousands of kilos of grain annually and supplies over two hundred regional shops, eighteen Jumbo supermarkets, and artisan bakers like Harms's. His mill grinds in ten passes, ensuring the flour maintains its high quality. "We don't force anything," says Jan. "That keeps the proteins healthy and gives the bread volume. You can taste the difference."
Contact with farmers is intensive: a list of verified wheat varieties is published every year. Jan carefully selects which varieties are suitable for baking wheat, he considers nitrogen efficiency and disease resistance, and discusses with the farmer what to sow. "A variety like that lasts for six years, after which you have to innovate," he explains. "That keeps you on your toes and guarantees quality."
The collaboration with Harms has been going on for about twenty years. "Patrick came here when he was still baking big. We've always stayed in touch. Now we do everything locally. Besides being the most sustainable, it also just makes sense. It's the way it should be."
From spent grains to beer ball
In the tiny open kitchen of dokjard, the restaurant on Noorderhaven in Stad, baked its own bread for a while. "That was fantastic, of course," says owner Jard van Dalen, "but the kitchen guys always had to start so damn early, otherwise they couldn't get enough bread in our tiny oven. The KitchenAid also had to run four cycles to get a decent amount of dough. After a few months, we decided to outsource it."
"It's beautiful, of course," says Jard. "We brew our own beer here, and Patrick uses the spent grains (the brewing waste, ed.) to make our beer balls. That way, nothing goes to waste." The collaboration began by chance. "We were looking for someone who could make bread from our spent grains," Jard explains. "We found Patrick through word of mouth. He came by, tasted the beer, saw the kettles, and said: I want to work with this." After two tasting rounds, the recipe was finalized: a robust roll with the aroma of malt, a hint of caramel, and the recognizable signature of Harms Heerlijck.
"It's the kind of product that only comes about when people connect," says Patrick. "They with their flavors, me with my dough, and Jan with his grains. Everything comes together here."
Short lines, real people
In the collaboration between miller, baker, and restaurant, the distance is short, both literally and figuratively. If anything changes with the flour, Patrick immediately calls Jan. "Then he says: this is a new harvest, it absorbs a little more water, keep that in mind when baking. That way, we know exactly what we're doing."
This direct line makes the system flexible and fair. "Everyone knows what's happening," says Jan. "The farmer gets a fair price, the baker knows what he's baking, and the customer tastes the difference."
At dokjard That story literally comes to the table. "Our guests love hearing that their bread comes from just a few villages away," says Jard. "It aligns with our vision: local, artisanal, transparent. And it makes our menu cohesive, not only in taste but also in meaning."
The value of craftsmanship
Patrick believes that transparency is the key to sustainability. "Anyone can walk in here. They see me baking, they see the dough. There's nothing to hide. That's important to me." His bread is firm, compact, and has a short shelf life. "Bread that stays fresh for a week—that's questionable," he says with a laugh.
His ingredient list is short: local grains, field bean flour, and rapeseed oil from Zuidwolde. No powders or artificial additives. "I use field bean flour because it's rich in protein, which naturally improves the dough. And I buy my oil from a farmer I know." Jan adds: "Small producers keep the supply chain alive. Everything is getting bigger and more anonymous, but these kinds of collaborations prove there's room for quality. Just like small breweries: It's a niche, but a valuable one."
Farmers are needed
For them, sustainability isn't just about the environment, but also about continuity of craftsmanship. "We need farmers," says Patrick. "Not just for grain or meat, but because they form the basis of everything we eat." He tells us about a farmer in Zeegse from whom he buys ground meat. "When a cow dies there, that man is sad. That's real. It touches me. For him, it's not a product, but an animal he raised. And we have to hold on to that realization." According to Patrick, it's precisely these kinds of stories that bring people closer to their food. "When consumers see how much love and labor goes into their food, they appreciate it differently. Then you taste it with respect."
The future: local awareness grows
When asked how he sees the future of local food, Patrick doesn't hesitate. "Positive. Young people are increasingly aware of what they're eating and no longer want junk. You can tell they're making more conscious choices." Jard sees this reflected in her restaurant as well. "Our guests are asking more and more questions. They want to know where something comes from, who made it. I love that; that conversation is part of eating." Jan adds: "We're at the beginning of something that should be normal. Bread, beer, meat—it should all come from your own community. Only when we consider that normal again will we be truly sustainable."
"You just have to talk to some people," says Patrick. "Go to a farmer, a baker, a restaurant. Try something. Then you'll know what it's supposed to taste like."
The Green Choice
Want to read everything about the Green Choice? The Green Choice is a project in which Groningen hospitality entrepreneurs, chefs and local producers work together to make sustainable food routes visible. By means of portraits, interviews, videos and cooking demonstrations, the journey of local products - such as grains, potatoes, game and shrimps - from producer to dish is visualized. The project stimulates the short chain, strengthens regional cooperation and offers inspiration for both professionals in the hospitality industry and conscious consumers. De Groene Keuze is an initiative of the Northern Netherlands Economic Cooperation Foundation supported by the Province of Groningen en Municipality of Groningen
© 2025 ESNN Foundation
Text: Tanja Tuinstra
Photography: Jasper Bolderdijk
Video: Twan Siertsema
