Endless errands wear me out, yet I also appreciate the conviviality of a busy season. I wrote about that tension in a 2019 newsletter piece and now, in the days leading up to American Thanksgiving, seems like an apt time to share them here on the blog for the first time. Fun fact: when I first published this I got the name of the bread all wrong. I called the loaf I sought a mille; maybe this is what I had in mind? Regardless, I was wrong: it’s a miche.
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On a recent chilly Saturday, I ventured into my local bakery (the very one I’ve written about before) to pick up a loaf of bread before we welcomed houseguests for the weekend. The bakery is a zoo on Saturdays, and for good reason: the brunch is fantastic, the atmosphere cozy, and the expanded weekend menu something special.
They bake up things on Saturday mornings they don’t make on any other day. And so I was thrilled to slip into the crowded shop, packed with customers waiting for brunch tables, and see that they still had a single loaf of my very favorite Saturday-only offering, waiting on the rack like they’d been holding it just for me.
I was eager to get home after several hours of Saturday morning errands. This was my last stop, and I waited by the counter while the cashier finished ringing up another order. I was next in line, though people had begun to pile up behind me in the cramped space. It would be my turn in a moment. But then—another woman whooshed in from the cold through the exit door, plunked herself at the counter, and said, Is this where I order bread?
If she had been a regular, she would have entered through the other door, the one the rest of us had used. She would have known the cashier would call the next customer to come forward when they were ready. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t, and without meaning to, she jumped the line.
She proceeded to ask the cashier a dozen questions about the loaves available for sale: what were they called, how were they made, how much did they cost, which days do they bake each? You have got to be kidding me, I thought, knowing full well I could place my own order in 8 seconds and be out the door in 30.
But she kept asking questions: What sandwich toppings would go well with each loaf, and did it matter what kind of freezer bag, and what were the prices again? It’s possible at this point I was noting that I could be home by now, making my second cup of coffee, because it was supposed to be my turn. But I determined that optimism would rule the day, and it’s perfectly understandable to be curious about phenomenal baked goods, and I sincerely wished her well in her choice of loaves.
Based on the unfolding conversation, I guessed she would pivot to muffins or pastry—but alas, instead, she ORDERED MY LOAF. The one, single, special, Saturday loaf I had already mentally used in three different meals with our houseguests. The one I would now have to wait till next Saturday to get. The one she’d just told the cashier was “way too big for her.”
But she bought it, and then asked the cashier to slice it. (How thick?, he asked, and they proceeded to discuss the various options.) It was now well past the time I thought I’d be home, and nothing left in the case looked anywhere near as appealing as the bread—my bread—she’d be taking home with her.
I could end the story here, with me acting like a brat about bread, but that’s not what happened next. I had, in fact, just heard the entire conversation about her bread choice. So, while the cashier sliced her loaf, I stepped out of my introvert comfort zone and said, I hope you enjoy the miche; it’s my family’s favorite.
She told me she was excited to try it, that she’d heard great things about the bakery but this was her first visit, but that she wasn’t sure how on earth she could use that much bread, and it’s awfully expensive—she hoped it was worth it.
And so, on impulse, I offered to split it with her. The cashier deemed our idea a great one and divided our neatly sliced loaf between two separate bags, and we had a lovely conversation—about the neighborhood, the town, our respective plans for the miche. (At this point, involved in an interesting conversation, I was happy to chat, not nearly as eager to get home to my second cup.)
Half was plenty—for both of us.
I don’t want to turn this into some magical encounter, because it was really pretty ordinary. But then again, perhaps that’s the magic of it? (At the time we were reading Harry’s Trees in Book Club, a book that prompts one to notice the extraordinary ordinary.) In ten seconds, I went from feeling like a crank to feeling like a neighbor, from feeling self-righteous to feeling understanding—and understood. We both left with half of that precious last loaf, and we were both very happy about it.
Reader, I’ve been thinking about this encounter ever since: the limits of my perspective, the intentions of those around me, and my agency in all of it.
It’s only bread, but you know what? It’s good bread.
I’d love to hear about your favorite bakery offerings, encounters with strangers, and the tension between endless errands and the conviviality of a busy season in the comments section.
23 comments
We have a local bakery, Brake Bread, that makes wonderful bread/pastries, etc. Their almond scones are to die for. At the beginning of the pandemic, they closed their store and switched to subscription only. We signed up to support this local company. So every week, they bring us a variety of treats VIA BICYCLE! If you know Minnesota in winter, you know how challenging that can be. Three years later, we’re still getting an order of cardamom spinners, almond scones, and their special bread of the week. The shop isn’t that far away from our home but the whole delivery thing is so much fun! https://www.brakebread.com
Fun to see a local shop mentioned on this blog! I’ve only managed to order from Brake Bread once, just this summer when I was having Summer of Toast and needed GOOD bread for my weekly toast creations.
I started saying ‘you’re good at what you do’ to people I hardly knew or would never meet again. It ended up being a surprising game-changer for me …
http://www.lindastoll.net/2017/09/a-surefire-antidote-for-our-endless.html
This is a lovely story, Anne. As someone who was firmly taught to wait my turn, I appreciated the sharing of your internal voice bemoaning the other person’s ease in ignoring the line. As we watch the world becoming increasingly chaotic and mean spirited, these small actions of leaning back, being flexible, letting others “cut in line” may be one of the few ways to fight for the kind, caring world we want to live in. I’m working hard to make those actions part of my life every day.
Ugh, I am feeling chastised. I just left our neighborhood to get my cup of hot cocoa from my favorite local place and a woman reversed into the road in front of me. Taking her sweet time to adjust her visor and get moving. I was so annoyed! I didn’t do a good job of leaning back and being flexible. It’s 8:23. Plenty more time today for me to take the higher road. (to be clear, I did not honk, etc. but I was not thinking kind thoughts – ha!)
I don’t eat gluten, so bakeries are off limits for me, but I am looking forward to trying the Loopy Whisk’s new recipe for gluten free cheesy buttermilk biscuits, they look wonderful.
https://theloopywhisk.com/2023/11/16/gluten-free-buttermilk-cheddar-biscuits/
I’ve loved this story since you first shared it in the newsletter, and I’ve thought of it often. So many wonderful things here, including your word choice (whooshed and plunked 😀), how you stepped forward to let her know that it’s something you love, and how you came up with the perfect compromise that made you both happy. I’d probably have stayed quiet, grinding my teeth while trying to figure out what else I could order 😂. I aspire to be like that in such situations! In these upcoming busy weeks, I will aim to keep it in mind as I interact with the people around me. (And why didn’t that cashier answer her first question with “Yes this is where you order bread, but those people have been waiting in line” ? To give you a great story, it seems!)
How lovely. I’m very shy and would have had a very hard time saying anything, but I hope I would, next time I’m getting impatient while standing in line, patiently. And yes, I see the contradiction in that sentence. But I do have a bakery I like, with quiche Lorraine I dearly love. They bake bread, but I don’t buy it,. I’m afraid it’s a bit much bread for me living alone. Wonder if I can buy half a loaf?
I was walking to a symphony concert yesterday afternoon in the rain, staying fairly comfortable under my umbrella. I noticed an older woman walking in front of me with no umbrella, obviously heading to the concert as well. When I caught up to her at the corner, waiting on the crosswalk light to change, I asked her if she would like to share my umbrella. She gladly accepted and we walked the rest of the way together, finding out that we both live in the same suburb, that she works for our school district, and we chatted about our schools. It was a very pleasant walk in the rain, and we both arrived mostly dry.
Walking out of my local warehouse store recently, I was behind a man in a motorized grocery cart. His boxes were piled high enough to block his view. I caught up at the door and offered to carry the top box (I had run in for a only a few things which were already in a bag). He was a Korean vet; I shared that my father had served in Vietnam and we had a lovely chat. It felt great partly because I wasn’t treating him as less able–the boxes were just too high–he loaded the trunk himself, etc. I appreciated that he let me help out.
This was beautiful. Such a gift when we have an encounter that changes our perspective. Thank you for sharing, Anne!
As I was reading this, I seriously thought you were going to end along the lines of the Seinfeld episode where the lady ahead of them ordered the last loaf. I like your version so much better 😁
That was a great story. Thank you
I know that bread! I lived and worked nearby and on big weekends people would venture into the wine shoppe where I worked to purchase baguettes. On slow weekends I would be sent home with a baguette…possibly with some cheese and drops of wine that had not been doled out as samples. Good memories. Glad you both got your bread and a great story!
My husband and I went to the Little Bread Company in Fayetteville, Arkansas. We stopped to have a bite to eat before church. We have raised 5 children and the youngest is in college. Sitting at the table next to us was a young couple with two children, ages 4 and 6. We loved hearing the excitement and the stories that came from the children and the banter that went on between the children and parents. We talked to the parents and I told them I enjoyed listening to their children. I love visiting the bakery, not just to eat, but to experience with my five senses and to enjoy meeting other people in their world even just for a few minutes.
This is a great story. That was fast thinking on your part! Just think, if the roles had been reversed, how happy you would have been to have someone speak to you and share the bread. She has probably told the same story many times. My new favorite bread is fig and anise, for a special treat.
I think the woman who cut the line may have been excited about going to a new bakery & rushed forth. I have done this in hot pursuit of something I am longing to try. When I recognize that I cut the line (hopefully I do!!), I use humor by addressing the line with an apology and state that I am open to the line booing & hissing at me as I head to the end of the line.
Lovely story. It’s a bookish quote as well. “You cannot control the behavior of others, but you can always choose how you respond to it.” Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart
I love this story! I don’t have a bakery story, but I have a coffee shop story… or rather ritual. Every morning since I became a mother 12 years ago, I drive to a coffee shop for an iced tea. I pull on sweatpants and tie my hair back, and usually arrive in the dark. This doesn’t make much sense because I’m a stay-at-home mom and could go to the coffee shop at any time, but I love the freedom I feel of going before the kids wake up and no one needs me. I love listening to my own music or a podcast (WSIRN) or audiobook. It sets my mind straight. More than once, especially when the kids were little, I had tears in my eyes on the way there and felt better by the drive back. Thank you for sharing your “good neighbor story.” It’s perfect for this time of year. Happy Thanksgiving, all!
I love this! Life is so much nicer when we can remind ourselves to change our perspective…and look for the magic that awaits all around us!
Thanks for the great stories. So nice to hear about events in “regular” life that just make you smile. The one that said “he allowed me to help” just really moved me.
I am blessed to live in a neighbourhood that has three bakeries within walking distance. But only one of them, The Crusty Bun, makes breads and buns along with the sweet offerings. I have a favourite bread from them, a pumpkin seed bread, and it seems it is a favourite for a lot of other people too because they are quite often sold out of it before the other breads. I could (and sometimes have) do a telephone order to have them set aside a loaf for me but somehow it seems more fun to tempt fate and just go.
When I am on holidays I try other bakery’s offerings but I’ve never found any as good as the Crusty Bun’s. The owners are from Germany and make their bread with a long fermentation rise which gives it a distinct flavour and texture.
Two months or so ago, my teenage daughter and I drove 30 minutes south on a whim for a meal at a favorite hole in the wall place in the two I attended college. We were having a grand time but I kept noticing this woman to my right. She had an air about her. I can’t really explain it other than I just found her fascinating. We began talking (I am not an introvert but my daughter is) and had such a fun time, the three of us. The waiter dropped by to say how happy it made him to see people making friends from strangers. Somehow our local arts center came up and my daughter was telling this lady how much we love musicals and such. She said that she’d been reminded that she needed to buy tickets for a show that Thursday. My ears pricked and I asked if she was talking about the Sam Cooke tribute show. She looked shocked (it isn’t one of the “big” shows) and said yes, she was. It just so happened that I had realized the day prior that I was not going to be able to use our tickets because both of my kids had events that night. Would she like mine? She said she would love to buy them from me and I said no, that I really just wanted her to have them and I felt good knowing they were going to someone who loves Sam Cooke’s music as much as I do!
The back story to THAT story is that I worked in a shoe store in my small hometown in high school and during breaks in college. The couple who owned it (now in their 80s!) were and are lovely people. When I moved off to college, they came to town and treated me to a beautiful dinner at a restaurant I would never have been able to afford and then took me to see The King and I at this same arts center. It was the first time I had ever been to a Broadway scale production and I was mesmerized by the colors and of course, the music. I had seen musicals on VHS and listened to the records but never had I seen one in person. That began my love of musical theatre and their generosity has made me – 27+ years later – absolutely love to treat others to that same gift of music and art!
Thank you for sharing your bread story. I call those God winks. Before anyone comes at me about the theology behind this, it’s simply my way of viewing situations where I feel like God is giving me a wink and saying “I see you and I’ve got you.” 😉