A small kitchen, an old starter and a belief that good bread brings people together. Here's how it all began.
It started with weekend loaves for friends and neighbours. Word spread faster than we could bake, and before long we'd swapped the kitchen table for a little shopfront on the corner.
Today we're a bakery and coffee house rolled into one — but the heart of it hasn't budged. Same starter, same slow mornings, same welcome.
Locally milled flour, real butter and seasonal fruit. Nothing we can't pronounce.
Long, slow ferments give our bread its flavour. You can't hurry a good loaf.
A café should feel like someone's kitchen. Come as you are and stay as long as you like.
Our day starts at four in the morning, when the ovens go on and the first doughs get shaped. By the time the doors open, the counter's full and the whole street smells like breakfast.
It's early, floury, tiring work — and we wouldn't trade it for anything. There's real joy in handing someone a warm bun and watching their morning get a little better.
A small team who know every bird by name — and who'll tell you exactly where your egg came from.
Up before dawn, mending fences, hands-on with every animal, happiest in the countryside.
Sorts and packs each egg with care and can talk chicken breeds all day.
The friendly face at the till who knows regulars by name and their favourite natural products.
Walk around the pasture, meet the rooster, pick up warm eggs straight from the nesting boxes. You're always welcome.