The last time I saw Germán Torres, he was out of his usual flour-speckled apron, far from kitchen work surfaces and ovens at La Valiente Panadería y Confitería. Relatively spruced up with his wide-watt smile on full beam, he was playing at being DJ for the night at Marti restaurant. 

I’d gone to check out the event — a fun mash-up construed by chef Germán Martitegui that took his gastro friends out of context — as I would be doing my own musical selection the following week. That evening was the turn of the renowned baker, who was choosing early Beatles tracks to create a moody ambience and watching with interest as he was guided across the vinyl decks by the night’s ‘real’ DJ, music producer Gastón Baremberg.

“Sorrel, thank you for your unconditional support. Hugs. Happy reading. Germán 2019.” So reads his short and sweet dedication in Pan de Garage, the first of two books he published, one of which I pulled out of the kitchen shelves today. This was an ode to his first storefront Salvaje Bakery, which he opened in 2016 with gastro entrepreneur Martín Ortiz, on the northern side of Palermo Hollywood that wasn’t yet cool. Torres’ first tome was a snapshot of three years working out of this converted garage, the workshop where he created.

Bread Zeppelin

How many cook books do you own that come with a suggested soundtrack of “music to bake to”? How many use subheads such as Bread Zeppelin or With A Little Help From My Friends to recount their story, never taking themselves too seriously yet managing to also inspire? Besides being a publicist-turned-cook who found his life’s passion in water, yeast and flour, Torres was also an artist who shared the ups and downs of life with honesty: he related to Radiohead, Queen, Nirvana and Soundgarden, to their personal struggles and their professional triumphs. And in turn, we, his baked goods buyers, could relate to the daily rollercoaster through his starter doughs, celebrating with him when he baked the perfect loaf. 

His refreshing attitude is just one of the ingredients that made Torres — and Salvaje Bakery — quickly stand out. He was the first of his generation to get us excited about sourdough, yeasts, starters and holey crusty bread, the analogue way of baking in an overprocessed world of baked goods. He never invented that particular wheel, and neither did he claim to, but Torres’ passion, obsession and dedication for baking great bread spread fast. People flocked from all over for coffee, brunch or an aperitivo teamed with brownies or a sticky medialuna for good measure.

Conveniently located four blocks from my home, I’m quietly confident I’ve been buying Saracen farmhouse loaves since Salvaje’s very early days, although given my current situation of wearing braces, I’ve more recently swapped crusty bread for brioche to keep dentistry costs down. Salvaje is my bready bolthole, a neighbourhood spot popular with residents from the immediate vicinity — I proudly count myself among them — as well as an expat haven. Today, when I go in for coffee — it’s a solid and well-located place for a meeting — it’s an off day if I don’t bump into at least one familiar face. It became the Cheers of bakeries and coffee shops, although as Torres always said, Salvaje has always first and foremost been a bakery.

Soundtrack blaring, sometimes unbearably loudly, there’s a lot of joy in buying a warm loaf that’s just been pulled out of the oven. Its aromas are pure love. Sometimes you’d have to wait for the next batch, but that’s the magic of eating a handcrafted product, created at the crack of dawn, carefully kneaded by those tattooed arms and his army of baking soldiers. 

Heritage grains, golden moments

In their simplicity, Torres’ baked goods — using heritage grains in lesser- known flours — created golden moments for a community of consumers willing to forgo mass-produced loaves for a healthier and tastier product that’s also easier to digest. He took an Argentine staple — indeed a staple of the global dining table — improved it, then made it a protagonist, as well as elevating medialunas and bringing flour-free chocolate cake to the porteño mainstream

In 2018 I had the (brilliant) idea of creating a charity calendar whose models were semi-semi naked chefs from around Argentina. I convened industry insiders to choose a top 10 of the most good-looking cooks and Torres, for his beaming smile, a movie star in bakers, was chosen (I didn’t merely handpick pretty faces myself.) He was enthused to participate, happy to pose with bare shoulders and arms, torso covered by an apron and carrying doughy wares, and wearing his signature beanie. 

Supported by organic vegetable producer Sueño Verde, the calendar year opened with Torres, who later wrote to me: “I can’t wait to see the photos! Let me know if you want to sell the calendar in Salvaje. Thank you for the opportunity”. Mr January was always polite, always short and sweet, but always genuine.

A new direction

During the pandemic Torres and Ortiz parted company. I remember going to get a loaf and Torres peering through the dark grey gates, passing the paper bag through a gap; some weeks later I found out he’d flown the coop. I started cycling to his house near a railway line in Belgrano to pick up rye, one of his latest experiments; he continued to give classes as he’d always done. Then, a new opportunity arose and Torres moved out to the Buenos Aires province to open a bakery with chef Christian Petersen, La Valiente Panadería y Confitería.

In San Isidro is where his story concludes, among flaky pastries, cinnamon rolls, pastafrola and baguettes. On Sunday, September 15, Argentina lost one of its leading gastronomy lights, a young man who had barely skimmed 40 and had been suffering through a lengthy illness. Germán Torrres was a pioneer who kept it real, kept the volume loud and shared his passion for baking with everyone. May his legacy live on every time you break or bake bread.