We parked our stroller outside and trundled in---immediately transported to some Old World place of heady bread aromas, freshly brewing coffee and warm croissants. A tiny place really, with just enough room for wall counters and stools, and a display rack, the rest of the shop is the bakery itself, where the baker whom we recognized from summer farmerâ€™s market trips, was rolling dough.
As if aware of our delight, Bean sat happily on the high counter in the sun, still bundled in his snowsuit, his hair standing straight up with static, and ate mouthfuls of buttery croissant. NPR was on low in the background and when fresh coffee cake came out of the ovenâ€”all crumbly and sweet, we ordered two pieces. If I could have my way, this is how I would start every single day