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 family who've dedicated their lives to animal welfare — and who can tell you everything about where your food comes from.
Out at first light tending the flock, keeper of the breeding lines, happiest with soil under her boots.
Breaks down each bird with care and will explain our humane methods all day.
The friendly face greeting customers and the one who knows exactly which eggs you prefer.
Stop by the farm shop, pick up fresh eggs or a chicken, meet the flock and stay for a chat. You're always welcome here.