To say I was born into baking would be an understatement (In fact, my family only lived in a house not above a bakery for 3 years during my childhood).
I’m a third generation baker, following in the footsteps of my father, and my mother’s dad before him.
The baking tradition began in 1942 when my grandfather built a large brick oven in his basement to start a bread route. My favorite photo is of him standing in front of a huge tub of dough at the Carr Biscuit Company. When he opened his second stand-alone bakery, we actually lived upstairs.
Then my father opened his own bakery, (we lived above that bakery too) and I was always mesmerized by his commitment to high standards. Everything he made had to look a certain way, be presented in a certain way, and of course, taste a certain way. With my father, “good” wasn’t good enough. He always believed that a baked good should be an experience and delivering a substandard product robbed people of that.
Each day after school I would walk through the bakery front door and help myself to whatever confection I was currently obsessed with. That could be … Continue reading >>