A French Bread Obsession

The Poilâne bakery in France is run by the founder's granddaughter, who holds to tradition while carefully integrating technology—and studying at Harvard

by Amber Haq

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This is a story about bread. But it's also a tale of a third-generation family business, a bitter fraternal rift, a tragic helicopter crash, and a young woman thrust suddenly into managing an icon of French society while completing her undergraduate studies at Harvard.

Making bread may seem like a prosaic task, but Poilâne is no mere bakery. Started in 1932 in a tiny shop near St. Germain des Près in Paris, Pierre-Léon Poilâne's storefront has grown to become a potent national symbol. The rich, dark sourdough loaves—a marked contrast to France's ubiquitous fluffy white baguettes—are the gold standard for country-style bread in supermarkets and restaurants across France. And now, under the steady hand of 23-year-old Chief Executive Apollonia Poilâne, some 20% of Poilâne's output is shipped abroad by air courier to devoted customers in New York, Johannesburg, and Tokyo.

At the same time, Poilâne maintains its hand-crafted feel. Walk down a quaint street in the Left Bank and you will notice a long line of sophisticated French customers queuing in front of the original store for their daily bread and pastries. Forget low-carbs or wheat-free. "Our bread is food for the body," says Apollonia Poilâne. The loaves are still shaped by hand and baked in brick-lined wood-burning ovens. Even the bread wrappers and the company's familiar logo have a tasteful and reserved quality.

Bread in the Bone

It all starts with Poilâne's celebrated miche, or sourdough loaf, made from stone-milled grey flour, salt from the Guerande region, and a sourdough starter that dates from Apollonia's grandfather's original batches. The choice of grey flour is deliberate: After World War II, most French bakers reverted to using the refined white flour characteristic of baguettes. ("An Austrian import," Apollonia confides). Poilâne's sourdough loaf in contrast, retains more of the wheat's nutritional content—and keeps for a week.

The third-generation proprietor holds close to her grandfather's philosophies and business practices: using the best ingredients, attention to detail at every stage of the process, and nurturing long-term customer and supplier relationships. To that, she's now adding brand management and a growing international distribution network.

"My grandfather came to Paris from Normandy to bake," says Apollonia. "We dedicate ourselves to preserving the best of our food culture and sharing it with our customers."

Squalling Siblings

Apollonia recalls growing up in the shadow of her grandfather, counting loaves, distributing cookies in bags, and making figurines out of dough. But family life chez Poilâne wasn't always so idyllic. While Pierre-Léon was still running the business, his sons Max and Lionel had a huge falling out and Max left to set up his own bakery on the south side of Paris. Lionel, Apollonia's father, took over running the original operation in 1973.

The rift never healed. The rival brother markets his nearly-identical line of baked goods under the name Max Poilâne and distributes the products to supermarkets and via two bakeries in Paris. Lionel and the rest of the family sued him for trademark infringement, but lost the case when courts ruled that Max had the right to use his own name. Remarkably, Apollonia has never met her uncle and refuses to speak about the fraternal battle, though the tussle over the brand name clearly still rankles.

"I am completely dispassionate about the split," she says. "My concern is that I have clients calling me saying they found my bread unsatisfactory. Then they realize it's not my bread. That's an issue."