Two bakers, one wood-fired deck oven and whatever the dough gives us that morning. The doors open at seven and stay open until the bread runs out.
One deck oven means one bake at a time. The loaves come out first, the buns follow, and the focaccia lands in time for lunch.
We bake what the oven holds and no more. On a quiet Tuesday there is bread at noon; on a bank holiday the shelf can be bare by half nine. If you need a particular loaf, ring the day before and we will keep it back for you.
Flour, water, salt and a leaven we have kept going since the bakehouse opened. No improvers, no commercial yeast, nothing to hurry it along. The long cold rest is what gives the crumb its sourness and the crust its colour.
Sandwiches are cut on the white tin from seven, wrapped in paper and flat enough for a rucksack lid. Flapjacks keep for days. Bring a flask and we will fill it before you start up the hill.
See what we packLocals order whole loaves for collection. Ring us the day before and your bread waits on the shelf behind the counter.
Tell us what you want and when you will come. There is no deposit and no form to fill in — we write it on the board and it is yours until closing.
+447700900211, any time we are open.
Country, rye, spelt or a white tin. Whole loaves only.
From seven the next morning, at 14 Lake Road.
Cardamom buns, a Cumberland rum nicky and whatever the season has given us. Saturdays sell out faster than any other day — order it on the Friday.
Short things worth writing down: what the flour is doing, what is coming out on Saturday, and where to eat it.
Rye does not behave like wheat. It takes its time, it drinks more water, and it will not be rushed by a warm kitchen. Here is what the extra day actually does to the crumb.
Read the note
A sandwich on the white tin survives a rucksack lid. A focaccia slab does not. Years of walkers coming back down have taught us which of our bakes travel.
Read the note