On Friday mornings in Louisville, something quiet and meaningful unfolds. A small community chest fills with warm sourdough loaves. There is no attendant, no register, no supervision. Just bread, trust, and a handwritten sign inviting neighbors to take what they need and pay what feels right.
By midday, the chest is empty.
Behind it all is Lisa, who works in oncology biotech by day and bakes by passion. What began as a personal New Year’s resolution has grown into My Neighbor’s Bread, Co., a cottage bakery built on intention, patience, and deep community connection.
“I was trained as a bench scientist and worked in fermentation labs early in my career,” Lisa says. “But I learned pretty quickly that while I love the science, I thrive in the kitchen. Baking uses the same principles. Protocols, measurements, controlled conditions. The difference is that the outcome is delicious.”
Sourdough entered her life in January 2025 through a desire to reduce plastic waste and screen time. Bread was a major source of packaging in her household, and the early mornings offered an opportunity to replace scrolling with something more grounding. “There’s something meditative about working dough at five thirty in the morning,” she explains. “It was a better way to start the day.”
What began as a single loaf quickly expanded. Lisa’s curiosity and methodical mindset pushed her to test variables, refine flavor, and maximize oven space. But the growth of My Neighbor’s Bread, Co. was never a solo effort. Along the way, she leaned heavily on the support of her family and partner, who embraced the flour covered counters, late night baking marathons, and ever growing presence of bread in their home.
“I’m incredibly appreciative of having a partner and family who are willing to take on my chaos,” Lisa says. “There is flour and bread everywhere all the time.”
Friends and neighbors soon became an informal tasting community, offering feedback on texture, salt, and crumb. When neighbors began insisting on paying for the loaves they loved, the project naturally shifted from a personal practice to a shared one. As word spread, people began referring to it simply as my neighbor’s bread. The name stuck, and Lisa officially registered as a cottage baker in Louisville.
The community chest itself grew out of both necessity and trust. “As a working parent, I couldn’t realistically stand somewhere selling bread,” Lisa says. “The honor system made sense. I bake, I stock the chest, and I trust the community.”
That trust has been met with honesty and care. Even before a lockbox was installed, people left cash untouched inside the chest. While Lisa experiences a small percentage of unpaid loaves each week, she views it with compassion rather than frustration.
Asked why the Friday drops sell out so quickly, Lisa believes the answer is layered. “I hope the bread itself is good,” she says. “But I think people also come for the ritual. For the connection. Sometimes neighbors run into each other while picking up a loaf. Sometimes a parent grabs bread after school drop off and it just makes the day easier.”
In a culture that often feels rushed and transactional, sourdough demands patience. “You cannot rush fermentation,” Lisa explains. “You have to feel the process. The dough, the timing, the bake. Offering something slow and intentional is my way of inviting people to pause.”
Bake days unfold over several days, woven between work, family, and school schedules. Her eight year old son often helps stock the chest and has even created his own neighborhood delivery service. “It’s become something we do together,” Lisa says.
For now, Lisa is intentional about keeping the bakery a side passion. “I ask myself every week if I still love it,” she says. “So far, the answer is always yes.”
And when someone lifts a loaf from the chest and carries it home, her hope is simple. “I want them to feel comforted,” she says. “Like they’re bringing home something made with care and intention.”
To pick up a loaf for yourself, visit the corner of Dahlia and Mahogany in Louisville and follow along on Instagram @myneighborsbreadco.
- “There’s something meditative about working dough at five thirty in the morning. It’s a better way to start the day.”
- “I bake, I stock the chest, and I trust the community.”
- “You cannot rush fermentation. You have to feel the process.”
- “Sometimes a loaf of bread just makes the day a little easier.”
- “I ask myself every week if I still love this. So far, the answer is always yes.”