Did you know that the famous San Francisco-based bakery Tartine only sells bread after 5 pm? And that it sells out in about an hour – almost every single day?
This place, I tell you, is a good enough reason to live. But be warned: Tartine is not for the faintest of decision makers. It is small and rushed, a variable pressure cooker if you will.
Thank the criossant gods we were in the city during the week for that very reason. I hear Tartine is a proper CF on the weekends. The first time we were there (come on, you aren’t that surprised…) we sat down, ate our huckleberry tart, and took in the swarm of crazy around us. The second time around we were smarter, opting to take our treats back to the Bed & Breakfast, make some tea, and eat them on the rooftop overlooking the city.
Slight disclaimer: I did end up eating the orange glazed cinnamon roll in bed (Picture Schmeagol with the rabbit. There you go.). Crumbs everywhere. I was scolded.
Did you also know that Stevie K. used to bake bread in college? Eight years ago I would have punched him beneath his flour finger printed apron and pulled his shirt over his head from behind, hockey fight style. Now, it makes me 100% positive I want to marry him.
And Tartine gave him just the jumpstart he needed. Although my endless “Baking is so sexy! You should bake more! Make this bread for me and I will love you forever! Here, take my wallet and buy that bread book!” didn’t hurt either, I’m sure.
Needless to say, Tartine’s cookbook was on our doorstep by the time we got home. The boy’s first attempt at a whole wheat loaf will be happening this afternoon. If all goes well, I will be unhinging my jaw on some warm fresh baked peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by sundown.
I very much look forward to eating the boy’s homemade rendition of Tartine’s magical bread in the comfort of my own
bed home very soon. I might even share.