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The mill that belongs to everyone

A food revolution is stirring in Nottingham, writes Mark Rickaby.

Emma Shires dressing a millstone. Copyright: Amy Warman

On a warm evening in early August 2025, Sneinton Market Avenues in Nottingham smells of warm grain, fresh pizza and pastéis de nata, as a generous crowd turned out to back Nottingham Mill Co‑op’s Flour Kitchen fundraiser. I step into Avenue A and feel the buzz of conversation: old friends greeting each other over shared purpose, newcomers leaning in to hear about a different way of doing things. The space is still taking shape as a fully functioning shared kitchen and milling hub, but its purpose is clear.

Reclaiming a food system

This event wasn’t just about buying equipment, it was about reclaiming a piece of the local food system, returning it to the hands of our community. Nottingham was once a milling city – its Corn Exchange a centre of trade and its skyline marked by wind and water mills. Green’s Windmill in Sneinton, a suburb of Nottingham, built in the early 1800s, survives as a restored heritage site and a reminder of this era, of which the industrial revolution signalled the end. Centralised milling, consolidating profit and power with a few large companies, forced small mills to close. For more than a century, Nottingham’s grain was processed elsewhere, the unique flavour and identity lost in the commodity system.

The Co‑op’s founders set out to change that. In 2021, Small Food Bakery founder Kimberley Bell, engineer‑miller Emma Shires, and baker Emilie Lowen crowdfunded a New American Stone Mill from Vermont, raising over £20,000 from more than 300 supporters. They installed the mill in Sneinton Market, making the process visible to passers‑by. As Bell says: “We want to put food systems in the hands of citizens, not corporations.” The Co-op’s governance reflects that – a sociocratic, member‑owned structure, in which decisions are made by consent and directors are active bakers and millers. Their work proves that the idea of local, transparent, and collectively-run flour production has deep roots in the city.

Sharing

The model is simple but powerful: shared infrastructure for small‑scale producers. A low‑cost, low‑risk base and a place to share skills and ideas. The Co‑op’s kitchen and milling space can be rented by the day or half‑day, giving bakers, pasta makers and other artisan producers access to professional equipment, without the cost and other burdens of ownership. Training and mentoring – from milling intros to wholegrain pastry workshops – create a collaborative, rather than competitive, environment that invites experimentation built on tradition.

On milling days, the connections from field to loaf are visible in real time. Sacks of wheat arrive to the modest unit at Sneinton Market from farms less than 20 miles away. Inside, the stones turn slowly, releasing the warm, nutty scent of fresh flour. Some of that flour then travels only a couple of avenues over to Bryan at Breadmill Bakery. It’s a supply chain so short that people can buy a loaf and walk to where its flour was milled. The chance to meet the producers fosters deserved trust.

Ethos in action

The next step was establishing the Flour Kitchen campaign in late 2025. Another successful crowdfunding campaign helped to fit out a larger space with an oven, mixers, refrigeration, a pastry sheeter and a pasta extruder, as well as all the necessary plumbing, electrics, heating and security systems. Nottingham City Council match‑funded major equipment – clear recognition of the Co‑op as civic infrastructure, rather than a niche project.

This is ethos in action. The Co‑op mills whole grains on stone, keeping bran and germ for nutrition and flavour. It buys direct from local farmers, creating short, transparent supply chains. It supports Real Bread baking and challenges the dominance of industrial white flour. As Shires notes: “Around 65% of UK flour comes from just four big companies. Most bakers work with flour that has no story.” Small mills offer an alternative: flour with provenance, character and clear links from grower to miller to baker.

This can happen anywhere

The visibility of Nottingham Mill Co-op in a densely populated city, rather than a more familiar rural location, is unusual. It shows how these principles can be lived – start with a core asset, build a member‑owned structure, and grow into shared facilities that keep value local. The project is part of a wider revival. Across the UK, small mills and regional, non-commodity grain networks are emerging, shaped by their own communities. By reclaiming the means to mill, people reclaim the stories, skills and relationships that industrial systems strip away. Each bag of flour is more than an ingredient, it’s an act of resistance and seed for a different kind of food future.

Bell says, “When you remove human relationships, bad things happen to your food. You remove accountability and pride.” Here, those relationships are the point. Farmers bring in sacks of heritage wheat, a new generation of millers is trained to supply local artisan bakers, and members meet to decide the Co‑op’s direction. It’s a food system you can see, join, and influence.

Back at the launch, I realise the Flour Kitchen isn’t just a local upgrade. It’s a statement that Nottingham can take back a piece of its food system and that doing so makes better bread, builds stronger communities and strengthens the local economy. The city’s milling heritage isn’t just being remembered in the past tense, it’s being rebuilt now in a form that belongs to everyone for the future. As this can happen here, it can happen anywhere.

@nottingham_mill_coop

Originally published in True Loaf magazine issue 65, January 2026.

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