Let me count the raise.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My yeast can reach…
Did you guess from my mangled paraphrasing of Elizabeth Barrett Browning‘s poem that I love bread? Yes, earlier, I confessed to a love of kitchen gadgets. Call me multi-faceted. Besides, you can’t eat a gadget.
Anyway, the DH had been to this bakery with his brother who’d been taken by his friend. Almost sounds like a secret society.
We have plenty of other bakeries within walking distance of our house, ranging from adequate to excellent. And I really did not need the extra temptation with Christmas in sixteen (ack!) days.
“But this bakery is special, Joan! You won’t believe your eyes!” said DH.
So we hauled butt a whole 11.32 kilometers through city traffic. Ugh. The squat brick warehouse had lots of parking. It had overflow parking. Both lots were FULL.
I began to doubt my doubts.
Before we got anywhere near the scrupulously clean enclosed awning and automatic doors, the scent of fresh-baked bread wafted our way. Mmmmm.
Upon entering the premises my unassuming husband transformed into six feet of goody monster. His usually twinkly brown eyes darkened, a slight froth appeared at the right corner of his mouth.
No, I had not removed a single garment. Get your mind out of the gutter.
It was all for the cakes. All those cakes. Those incredible cakes.
Where was I?
Oh, yes. Bread.
The loaves were to the right. Racks, bins, trays of loaves. Bauern schnitten, klosterbrot, holspfen art brot, volkornbrot! And stollen, strudel, spitzkuchen, and pfeffernüsse!
OMG! Gotta have it! Got have it all!!!
If you guessed this is a German bakery, you’d been right. 😉 It’s Dimpflmeier’s Bakery in Toronto. If you’re ever anywhere in the area, it’s a must-see. Bring money, surprisingly not that much, as they’re cash only.
We shopped ’til our mouths ran dry, refreshed ourselves with fresh-pressed coffee and… your guessed it… DH and I had our cake, and our bread, too.
Do you have a must-see place in your neighbourhood?
© Joan Leacott 2012
