Two ovens, one opinionated starter
Since 2019, the same four rules: bake it in, feed the regulars, keep the starter alive, and never let the coffee get rushed.
How a bakery that wouldn't fit became the café
Nadia had the bakery. Tom had the café. Neither would give up the other, so in 2019 they rented this old shop on the Clifton lane — with a bakery that fit the back room and a counter that fit the front — and stopped negotiating. The first weekend we sold out of sourdough by eleven and ran out of oat milk by lunch. Both problems we've kept, on purpose.
The starter's called Gernot, named the week he nearly went off and came back better for it. He's older than the café, seen three flours and two ovens, and he decides when the sourdough's ready. Nobody argues with Gernot.
We're still just the two of us, plus a part-time hand and a very good dog. It stays that size on purpose: when we're behind the counter, you're not a transaction, you're the person who likes their flat white "not too flat".
Short supply chains, on purpose
Everything we can get within a driving hour, we do. The names are on the board by the till if you want to know.
Milk
From a dairy farm in the Ribble Valley, delivered twice a week. It changes the coffee; people notice within a month.
Eggs
A small holding six miles up the road. The hens' names are not on the menu but are available on request.
Flour
Stone-milled in Lancashire, wholegrain for the sourdough. We've tried fancy imports; Gernot preferred the local.
Baking
Every loaf, bun and pastry starts at 4am in the back room you can see from the window. No freezer, no pre-made.
Fourteen seats, a window worth having
For sitting
Big tables for working, corner seats for people-watching, and the window table that's always the first one taken. Wi-Fi's decent and no one's in a hurry.
For going
Full menu out the back window, and the bakery counter for the queue that doesn't want to sit down. Lidded cups, bags, and "keep the change" honesty jar.
For dogs
The garden table is dog-friendly, water bowls by the door. The café dog (not ours, technically) has a regular. Bring a treat if you know what we mean.
Come and meet Gernot
Open seven days. The bread's best before ten; the coffee's best after you've stopped walking.