Oh yeah, the bakery is slated to open on February 15, and I have a key!
Yesterday, I made my last go-round of the kitchen area, pleased with the large pantry stocked with flours and sugars and cleaned baking equipment, things that make a baker's heart go pitter-pat. I am missing a mixer (alarm bells ringing in my head) and a pastry cutter (there's no food processor), so for now I'll sacrifice my $3.99 Target model to the cause of scones. The idea of whipping cream by hand isn't pleasing, however. This will need to be remedied.
There were a dozen people sweeping the floor and assembling tables and stools in the great room, plus more working on the bathroom plumbing, a few more adding lights to the main dining area, and the cooks in the kitchen making soup for their first catered event. Frayed nerves were visible. Luckily, I had no part in them. I merely wandered to check off my ingredients and hope that the refrigerator and pantry items were out of those nondescript boxes before I needed to hunt for things, and found myself imagining what it will be like to wake up at 3:30 a.m. again. Honestly, it's been a long, long time since I got up that early. After all, I am not yet 85.
So next Sunday, I'll happily walk three blocks to a beautifully refinished building as the night grows gentle and try to remember where to find the lights at 4 a.m. Then I'll bake several pans of focaccia for sandwiches, and start croissants and danish dough, and test out the espresso machine, and probably take some pictures of the place all quiet and organized (just because I'm a dork like that, and also because you far-aways are curious). And then, like I used to do, I plan to enjoy the peace of moving around in familiar, friendly ingredients, the heat of the oven at my back, as I get to bake loads of pretty, yummy things before heading home to say goodbye to George and read through breakfast.