Alaskans buy 98 percent of 'Pilot Bread'

By BETH BRAGG
Anchorage Daily News
Friday, November 09, 2007

Maggie Roberts learned to love Sailor Boy Pilot Bread in the village of Venetie, where her grandmother always has a big box on hand. "I like eating it in soup, like moose soup or something."

Susie Merculief prefers to feast on her own homemade bread these days, but has fond memories of Pilot Bread from when she lived on St. George Island. "I used to eat it before and after the Second World War. I would toast it in the oven. It was nice to put butter on it when it was warm."

Lawrence Baker would eat Pilot Bread every day if he could. "I like that whipped cheese on it. But I have to drive 34 miles to buy it, so I don't always have it."

Alaskans may not live by Pilot Bread alone, but they profess an unmatched devotion to the round, durable, unsalted crackers that are the staff of life for villagers, cabin-dwellers and a few city folk.

So when rumors circulated that -- gasp! -- Interbake Foods might drop the cracker from its menu, Alaskans panicked. One of them, Janice Bendixen of Butte, sent an e-mail to the western region office in Portland.

Was it true? Should she stock up with a case or two?

Not to worry, regional business manager Jeff Poirier told her.

Interbake has no plans to discontinue the crackers, which it produces almost exclusively for Alaskans.

We buy 98 percent of the stuff.

Bendixen, an account executive with Northwest Strategies in Anchorage, sighed in relief and spread the word with a news release. She grew up in Nome, where Pilot Bread wasn't just a household staple. It was served daily at her school.

"In kindergarten it was our snack. It was Pilot Bread with peanut butter and apple sauce. That was in about 1968," she said.

She eats it to this day, usually with a heavy stew or moose soup. She can't imagine life without Pilot Bread in rural Alaska, where its popularity is unrivaled.

"You can't kill it. It's indestructible. Even when it's stale, which takes 10 years, it isn't stale when you toast it.

"C'mon. It's empty carbohydrates and fat. How can that be wrong?"

Poirier said Pilot Bread's durability makes it a natural for rural Alaska, where some food arrives after long journeys from the Lower 48 and some people live far from stores. The crackers don't have much oil or moisture, so they last a long time.

"There's nothing to go rancid," he said. "It's sturdy stuff."

Poirier was in Anchorage last weekend, giving out samples of Pilot Bread at the DeBarr Costco. He wanted feedback from Alaskans about the crackers, which recently moved from a bakery in Richmond, Va., to one in Front Royal, Va.

The recipe hasn't changed, he said, but a different water supply is being used and Interbake has bought a new oven. The bakery is trying to make sure the crackers don't change much in taste or texture as a result.

Poirier said the 2 percent of Sailor Boy Pilot Bread that doesn't wind up in Alaska usually ends up in one of three places:

-- It's sold on Indian reservations.

-- It's ordered by Oregon survivalists who want to stock up on non-perishables.

-- And it's shipped to Japan, where, Poirier said, the government encourages citizens to prepare survival kits in case of a tsunami or other disaster.

Pilot Bread is also known as hardtack, a cheap, everlasting cracker made of flour, water and salt. It was a staple for soldiers during the Civil War and, before that, on ships making long voyages. The highbrow set knows it as water crackers.

Find Beth Bragg online at adn.com/contact/bbragg. For more stories visit scrippsnews.com