By Jordan Glover 
A massive, rusting, retro-inspired, sign hangs perpendicular to the storefront, advertising “organic bakery” in green and white light-up letters. Hanging in a frame above the front windows are wooden letters, spelling out the bakery’s name: The Bleeding Heart Organic Bakery.
The unique ambiance does not stop short of the door—the interior of the bakery, at 1955 W. Belmont Ave., is painted sky blue, and the worn hardwood floors coated a jalapeno-lime. Most of the walls are covered in artwork: posters from The Sex Pistols and The Clash mixed with local artwork accompanied by price tags.
Light bulbs hang from the ceiling encased in enormous baker’s whisks. Glass display cases are lined with tarts, scones, cupcakes and candies.The smell of chocolate cake wafts from back kitchens. Heavy punk-inspired music streams from a radio.
To founder and owner Michelle Garcia, 30, The Bleeding Heart Bakery is not just a job. It is a way of life.
“I asked myself, ‘What kind of a world do I want to raise my children in?’” said Garcia, whose bakery embodies her hope of creating a better world.
After her own difficult childhood, through her teen years riddled with addiction, and a difficult transition into adulthood, Garcia knew she wanted to give her children what she says she didn’t have growing up: The confidence to walk down the street, and the grounding to be comfortable in their own skin.
It was that desire that also inspired Garcia to open what she calls an alternative bakery, one with an organic twist as she seeks to make her corner of the world just a little bit sweeter.
Her day starts by making breakfast pastries, including the bakery’s famous “Take a Hike” scone, which Garcia sells over 2,000 of a week. The scone is a blend of flax and pumpkin seeds, oats and a variety of dried fruit.
“I hate making breakfast pastries,” Garcia said. “Unfortunately, if we didn’t make the “Take a Hike” scone, we would go out of business. It’s that popular.”
While scones and tea cakes are baking, Garcia sets up the front of the restaurant. Coffee is brewed, filling the large room with a rich, nutty smell. A small coffee preparation station is stocked and organized, complete with organic sugar and a recycling bin for used wooden stirrers.
Garcia wipes down four wooden tables, which are giant cut-outs of cupcakes, painted with a lime green base, black frosting and hot pink hearts. Two bright orange, contemporary style couches sit on either end of the room.
After the front is set up and the breakfast goods come out of the oven, Garcia packs any orders that are to be delivered that day. She then goes on a delivery run, bringing customers their cakes, cookies and other pastries.
Once these essential tasks are complete, Garcia’s schedule changes—what she does is completely different from day to day. Some days she makes cakes, a task that usually belongs to her husband Vinny, 31, who doubles as her business partner. Their cakes range from five-tiered, classic wedding cakes to giant zombie heads being devoured by goblins.
“Baking is the only thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” Garcia said.
Growing Up
Garcia never met her biological parents. Her father was in jail when she was born, she says, and her mother—a heroin addict—died shortly after delivery. Garcia was addicted to heroin from birth, a disease that would follow her well into adulthood.
“My parents were doctors,” Garcia said of her adopted parents. “They were busy. I was pretty much raised by nannies.”
Garcia was very rambunctious growing up on the city’s South Side—her hyperactive nature a side effect of her heroin addiction during infancy.
Garcia’s adoptive mother, Sharon Zandell, who now works at a veteran’s hospital, recalls her daughter’s active nature as a child, and says that she was involved in many extracurricular sports, including basketball and competitive ice skating—something she believes her daughter has carried to adulthood.
“When I see her now and I look back, I can see why she is so good at competing,” Zandell said.
But in addition to competing in sports, Garcia, as a teenager, was soon wrestling with a more difficult—and potentially deadly—foe.
“I started using heroin when I was 12, then I left home when I was 13,” Garcia said.
As her mother recalls it, she had run away several times before. And Zandell started to realize that her daughter’s problems were more than merely a tough transition into her teenage years, she says.
For several years, Garcia admits, she was in an on-again-off-again relationship with heroin as she tried unsuccessfully to beat her addiction. It wasn’t until she entered a rehab program called Cedu in California—an organization which closed its doors in 2005 after struggling with financial issues—that she fell in love with baking.
“When we got in trouble, we were sent to help in the kitchens as a punishment,” Garcia said. “I found myself getting in trouble on purpose just so I could go cook…”
Looking Back, Moving Forward
Garcia awakes early, well before she arrives at the bakery around 4 a.m. She wears denim capri pants, Vans brand tennis shoes with hot pink socks and a brown screen-print T-shirt which says,
“Cake is awesome!” Her dreadlocks, a wild combination of hot pink, red and blond, are pulled back off of her face. Tattoos, ranging from “jailhouse” style to mementos of her children, to a wooden leg, adorn almost every visible patch of skin.
“I can’t wear cool clothes as an expression of my personality,” Garcia said. “My work is too messy. My tattoos do what clothes do for most people.”
Some days, Garcia places product orders to any number of local food distributors.
“I completely support organic and local farmers,” Garcia said. “I get my dairy from Organic Valley in Wisconsin, my pork from Faith’s Farms in Illinois. Everything is local. Everything is organic.”
Garcia has been clean for 10 years and three months. Her 10th wedding anniversary is just around the corner.
Garcia tries to finish her daily work with plenty of time to spend with her children, Gabriel, 4 and Sofi, 2.
“Vinny chose the name Gabriel because it was the name of his childhood best friend,” Garcia said. “I chose Sofi because it is the name of the candy bar I was addicted to when I was pregnant with her.”
Garcia said the bakery serves as a natural filter for the type of people she wants her children to be around.
“The people who come in here understand what we are doing, they are generally punk-rock people, too,” Garcia said. “I don’t want them to only experience a Republican world.”
One of Garcia’s biggest fears is that her children will share many of the negative experiences she had growing up: low self-esteem, feeling out of place and insecurity over who she was.
“I want them to be comfortable walking down the street,” Garcia said. “I want them to know who they are and not fear that person.”
Garcia’s children have done more for her than she could have imagined. It wasn’t until Garcia became a mother that she reconnected with her own parents, she says.
“My parents are cool now,” Garcia said. “I appreciate the lessons they taught me. They taught me my work ethic...”
A massive, rusting, retro-inspired, sign hangs perpendicular to the storefront, advertising “organic bakery” in green and white light-up letters. Hanging in a frame above the front windows are wooden letters, spelling out the bakery’s name: The Bleeding Heart Organic Bakery.
The unique ambiance does not stop short of the door—the interior of the bakery, at 1955 W. Belmont Ave., is painted sky blue, and the worn hardwood floors coated a jalapeno-lime. Most of the walls are covered in artwork: posters from The Sex Pistols and The Clash mixed with local artwork accompanied by price tags.
Light bulbs hang from the ceiling encased in enormous baker’s whisks. Glass display cases are lined with tarts, scones, cupcakes and candies.The smell of chocolate cake wafts from back kitchens. Heavy punk-inspired music streams from a radio.
To founder and owner Michelle Garcia, 30, The Bleeding Heart Bakery is not just a job. It is a way of life.
“I asked myself, ‘What kind of a world do I want to raise my children in?’” said Garcia, whose bakery embodies her hope of creating a better world.
After her own difficult childhood, through her teen years riddled with addiction, and a difficult transition into adulthood, Garcia knew she wanted to give her children what she says she didn’t have growing up: The confidence to walk down the street, and the grounding to be comfortable in their own skin.
It was that desire that also inspired Garcia to open what she calls an alternative bakery, one with an organic twist as she seeks to make her corner of the world just a little bit sweeter.
Her day starts by making breakfast pastries, including the bakery’s famous “Take a Hike” scone, which Garcia sells over 2,000 of a week. The scone is a blend of flax and pumpkin seeds, oats and a variety of dried fruit.
“I hate making breakfast pastries,” Garcia said. “Unfortunately, if we didn’t make the “Take a Hike” scone, we would go out of business. It’s that popular.”
While scones and tea cakes are baking, Garcia sets up the front of the restaurant. Coffee is brewed, filling the large room with a rich, nutty smell. A small coffee preparation station is stocked and organized, complete with organic sugar and a recycling bin for used wooden stirrers.
Garcia wipes down four wooden tables, which are giant cut-outs of cupcakes, painted with a lime green base, black frosting and hot pink hearts. Two bright orange, contemporary style couches sit on either end of the room.
After the front is set up and the breakfast goods come out of the oven, Garcia packs any orders that are to be delivered that day. She then goes on a delivery run, bringing customers their cakes, cookies and other pastries.
Once these essential tasks are complete, Garcia’s schedule changes—what she does is completely different from day to day. Some days she makes cakes, a task that usually belongs to her husband Vinny, 31, who doubles as her business partner. Their cakes range from five-tiered, classic wedding cakes to giant zombie heads being devoured by goblins.
“Baking is the only thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” Garcia said.
Growing Up
Garcia never met her biological parents. Her father was in jail when she was born, she says, and her mother—a heroin addict—died shortly after delivery. Garcia was addicted to heroin from birth, a disease that would follow her well into adulthood.
“My parents were doctors,” Garcia said of her adopted parents. “They were busy. I was pretty much raised by nannies.”
Garcia was very rambunctious growing up on the city’s South Side—her hyperactive nature a side effect of her heroin addiction during infancy.
Garcia’s adoptive mother, Sharon Zandell, who now works at a veteran’s hospital, recalls her daughter’s active nature as a child, and says that she was involved in many extracurricular sports, including basketball and competitive ice skating—something she believes her daughter has carried to adulthood.
“When I see her now and I look back, I can see why she is so good at competing,” Zandell said.
But in addition to competing in sports, Garcia, as a teenager, was soon wrestling with a more difficult—and potentially deadly—foe.
“I started using heroin when I was 12, then I left home when I was 13,” Garcia said.
As her mother recalls it, she had run away several times before. And Zandell started to realize that her daughter’s problems were more than merely a tough transition into her teenage years, she says.
For several years, Garcia admits, she was in an on-again-off-again relationship with heroin as she tried unsuccessfully to beat her addiction. It wasn’t until she entered a rehab program called Cedu in California—an organization which closed its doors in 2005 after struggling with financial issues—that she fell in love with baking.
“When we got in trouble, we were sent to help in the kitchens as a punishment,” Garcia said. “I found myself getting in trouble on purpose just so I could go cook…”
Looking Back, Moving Forward
Garcia awakes early, well before she arrives at the bakery around 4 a.m. She wears denim capri pants, Vans brand tennis shoes with hot pink socks and a brown screen-print T-shirt which says,
“Cake is awesome!” Her dreadlocks, a wild combination of hot pink, red and blond, are pulled back off of her face. Tattoos, ranging from “jailhouse” style to mementos of her children, to a wooden leg, adorn almost every visible patch of skin.
“I can’t wear cool clothes as an expression of my personality,” Garcia said. “My work is too messy. My tattoos do what clothes do for most people.”
Some days, Garcia places product orders to any number of local food distributors.
“I completely support organic and local farmers,” Garcia said. “I get my dairy from Organic Valley in Wisconsin, my pork from Faith’s Farms in Illinois. Everything is local. Everything is organic.”
Garcia has been clean for 10 years and three months. Her 10th wedding anniversary is just around the corner.
Garcia tries to finish her daily work with plenty of time to spend with her children, Gabriel, 4 and Sofi, 2.
“Vinny chose the name Gabriel because it was the name of his childhood best friend,” Garcia said. “I chose Sofi because it is the name of the candy bar I was addicted to when I was pregnant with her.”
Garcia said the bakery serves as a natural filter for the type of people she wants her children to be around.
“The people who come in here understand what we are doing, they are generally punk-rock people, too,” Garcia said. “I don’t want them to only experience a Republican world.”
One of Garcia’s biggest fears is that her children will share many of the negative experiences she had growing up: low self-esteem, feeling out of place and insecurity over who she was.
“I want them to be comfortable walking down the street,” Garcia said. “I want them to know who they are and not fear that person.”
Garcia’s children have done more for her than she could have imagined. It wasn’t until Garcia became a mother that she reconnected with her own parents, she says.
“My parents are cool now,” Garcia said. “I appreciate the lessons they taught me. They taught me my work ethic...”
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