The Birth Of Clarke's Bread
It’s 1:00am on a Saturday night. Or is it early Sunday morning? Nick and I are waiting in a dark alley in North York. Cutting across the back parking lot of a weathered strip mall, we’re startled by what seems to be a motion-sensored light above an open door, leading to an empty lit staircase. Weird. There’s no one there. If you didn’t know us any better, you’d think that we were first-time buyers of a crooked drug deal.
Toronto's Essential Artisan Bread Guide
There’s nothing like a piece of warm bread slathered in slowly melting butter.
Or a hearty crust softening as it bathes in the remains of a rich stew. Or a baguette being entirely devoured before you know it, one bite at a time, each morsel a faithful craft for the decadent cheeses and earthy pâtés carefully selected for your board. We are a bread-loving household, but we were also a bread-fearing one not long ago. For years, Nick was Paleo and I regarded bread as a treat, in the same way a triple chocolate cake is a treat. Eating bread was a guilty pleasure. But what were we guilty of, exactly?