Alyssa's Bakery

I think I will dedicate this blog to my bakery.  You see, ever since I moved to Wellington, I have developed an affection for cappuccino.  While there are perhaps 8 places for me to buy coffee in a 1 block radius from my office, there is only one true bakery.  There are many places to buy pies, scones, buns, and pastries, but only one “we bake in the stove in the back” bakery.

 

While the name of the place is Alyssa’s Bakery, the shop gal that manages the counter is named, Tam.  The owner is a very tall bald man.  I am relatively sure his name is not Alyssa.  The shop is on the south side of Courtney Place.

 

Tam greets me every morning with a loud, “Good Morning, Curtis! Coffee?” I often do not get a chance to even agree before she’s at the machine making my cappuccino with extra chocolate and two sugars.  Tam chatters on about random events.  We talk about the last episode of Battlestar Galactica, or parliament, the weather, or the exchange rate.  I have been going to the same shop for a year and while I’m sure that her friendliness is all part of her customer service ethic, I appreciate it none the less.  It makes me feel like I live just down the street.  I feel a bit more contented knowing that I have a real bakery and not a Kwik-E-mart—that I can joke with the shop girl and look forward to an apple pie.

 

The shop offers cakes and scones.  They have about 6 kinds of pastry.   Custard twists, biscuits, and sandwiches fill the glass counters.  Finally, there are the pies.  Oh the pies! Mince, steak, mushroom, chicken, veggie, and my favourite—bacon egg pie.  All created in the back kitchen.  I find these all delicious, but each of them is still somewhat strange to a Nebraska boy.  Yet something is familiar about the bakery.  I know it is more than the food—more than the service that keeps me coming back.  Maybe it does remind me of dusty old Nebraska some how or maybe it reminds me of how I want home to be.