Recently, there was a picture of me in Toronto Life's Eating and Dining issue. I am told it is a nice picture and I look quite skinny (thanks Mom). Below the picture are a few questions: what I like to eat, good places for kids, early morning treats. You know, the usual. For my morning goodness I say something along the lines of "I like going to Woodlot for some of the best bread in the city and a good cup of coffee".
Jeff Connell is the master baker at Woodlot; he used to work at St. John's Bakery and makes the best bread this side of the St Lawrence. If I were a woman, I would marry Jeff Connell. When he worked at St. John's, I would see him every Saturday morning at the Brickworks Farmers Market. Some of the loaves still oozed with warmth from the oven and I would always be sure to bring home a couple to hoard for myself.
Morning visits to Woodlot would be greeted with a cacophony of a display: cookies with SOMA chocolate, fresh baked croissants from Thuet, market quiche, sticky buns (I brought 4 dozen to the cottage this summer and 8 people finished them in 2 days) and, of course, freshly baked bread right out of the wood burning oven. And if that weren’t enough; Jeff and Woodlot’s Chef/Owner David Haman built the oven themselves.
Then Woodlot closed up their morning service. Bread is still available at 2pm before the restaurant opens but I can no longer go there and indulge in their bakery whenever I please. I like David Haman a lot. He is a very, very good cook and I have eaten dinner at Woodlot many times. But I don't always have time to go there for dinner, nor am I welcome to visit to merely get full on bread and butter.
I write this as an open love letter to a deceased loved one. I didn't have enough time with you. Ohhhhhhhh how my heart aches for Woodlot at 9am. I can appreciate you were losing money by selling your amazing goods at below market value, that your labour was too high, and, it's simply a consequence of economics.
But I don't care, you made a liar out of me in Toronto Life and I want RETRIBUTION. Or bread. Dave, you can reach me on my cell.
[Photos by Woodlot and Melly Made It.]