The Early Baker Gets the Worm

I'm throwing in the towel. 6:30 am - 3:00 pm unpaid shifts 5 days a week are not the most appealing additions to your agenda, much less your social agenda. I swear I spend more hours on my feet than I do lying in bed, which is not normal for me my friends. Not normal. I need to come home and be tranquilized for a month to regain all the energy I've lost. Make my own pseudo Forever Young film without Mel Gibson.

With all the complaining I do though, Pascal and Fréderich have to get to the bakery at 4 am and work until 1 pm. Fleur's husband (also a patissier) works from 1 am - 1 pm. Ah, bakery life. Leaving my apartment at 5:45 am, walking through the empty streets and riding the empty metro full of sleepy men -- finally arriving at the shopping center where my bakery is located -- the only boutique with it's sign lit.

These days it's been harder for me to get there on time. With aggravating customers, there's little motivation for me to rush to the bakery and stand for hours on end waiting on irritated French people. At the end of some days I really want to jump into a pit of rattlesnakes. Of course I've already mentioned the customers who whisper as though they were in a morgue, there are others who expect you to read off the price of every single product on display, even though the ticket price is in front of each item, there are those who simply refuse to smile, as though it would progress a malignant tumor in their gums if they ever saw sunlight.

The list goes on.
Thankfully I've got the smell of bread and a morsel of a pistolet au chocolat to keep me going -- fighting against the army of deaf centurians, overdue pregnant women, snotty teenagers, and eerie men with buddha bellies.

Viennoise nature

Ficelles

petites brioches

Pain de campagne

brioche nanterre