Flora Shedden - Aran

For Team Aran.
The most magic collection of pals.
All my love.

Angus Mcnab
Scott Alcorn
Kathy Burns
Kiri Gillespie
Megan Lancaster
Julia Cox
Tiffy Shedden
Colin Shedden
Hebe Shedden
Willow Shedden
Trish Ross
Hector Lancaster
Jess Moses
Annalee Donnaghy
Anna Walker
Gillian Ramsay
Justin Tunstall
Will Verdino
Anna Jauncey
Kirsty Fisher

And also for James, who has put up with us all.

It was a little over three years ago, on a dreich (dreary) Saturday afternoon spent in the pub, of course that the concept of Aran was first discussed. Perhaps a little intoxicated and consequently wittering a stream of nonsense, my fairly new boyfriend, James, introduced me to Angus, a colleague of his who he often described simply as the best person he knew. I wittered some more nonsense and we eventually got on to the topic of baking. Angus revealed he had a bread shed: a place where he would create loaves upon loaves post-work and early in the morning. I immediately became jealous of this magic little set-up, having spent the last few months searching for my own wee flour oasis. We agreed that we would talk further about a more serious venture, ideally including bricks and mortar, something a bit more permanent than a shed. It was both the first time I had seriously considered opening a bakery, and also the first time I had met anyone mad enough to agree to do it with me.

Angus and I continued to discuss various concepts and ideas for months afterwards. Of course, this involved touching on some of my more wholly idiotic plans, after which he would both politely and sensibly stop me going any further. He remains an expert in that particular field to this day.

Despite all of our scheming, we remained at a loss when it came to a location. Dunkeld is a small town, and ultimately has a limited variety of shops. I was subscribed to every property website available and sending regular emails to those locals who were always in the know.

NO. 2 ATHOLL STREET

One October morning, on a last-minute family trip to the south of Spain ironically a holiday I had only agreed to go on because I had given up all hope when it came to our scheming my phone buzzed. No. 2 Atholl Street was up for sale. We flew back a few days later, on a Monday morning, and by 3 p.m. that day we were standing in the abandoned building; a small shop space on the ground floor with a flat covering the first and second floor. It was impossible to view properly as a lack of power meant we could barely see the dark and crumbling interiors, and the low winter sun and Scottish afternoon light didnt help us much either. My main memories are of the old tobacco dispenser in a previous life, the shop space had been a newsagent and the burgundy curtains from the previous owner which still hung in the living room directly above. I had longed for a wee shop to rent, but this was a building with a flat arguably a house and it was only on the market to buy.

A few more viewings, this time with a torch, an architect and a lawyer in tow, and we decided to go for it. In hindsight, this was madness. I was 20, self-employed, and had known James, who was to buy the building with me, for no more than five months. Between the two of us we had a princely sum of zero savings. I scraped together a business plan and miraculously received approval for a commercial mortgage. On the day of my 21st birthday, our lawyer phoned to say it was ours. Long and tedious legal issues drew out proceedings excessively, but two days before Christmas of that same year, I drove to Perth to collect the keys. As 2016 came to an end, I had the daunting prospect of starting a business, renovating a shop and trying to cobble together some form of a home for myself and James, a man I still considered a fairly new addition to my life. I drank quite a lot that Hogmanay.

Nearly a year to the day that I got the phone call in Spain, 19 October 2017, we opened the doors of Aran. My mum and I, our hands both rough after months and months of painting, sanding, bad attempts at plastering, tiling and endless trips to the skip, along with Angus and James, and Scott and Megan old school friends who jumped on board once we got the building were all behind the counter that first day. Even my littlest sister Willow, aged 13, was there to help. We sold out in four hours.

A lot has changed since those early days, but our customers havent. They have been the key to Arans success, taking our hand and steering us in the right direction. Frankly, we were clueless in those first few weeks and months, working late into the night and then getting up at the crack of dawn to do it all over again. Our customers asked for more varieties of sourdough, so we made all our breads sourdough, bar one. They wanted lunch and savoury treats, so we did our very best to create mountains of sandwiches and salads, although we still often run out. They wanted real plates and crockery, so we bought them. But most of all, they wanted us to keep going. That alone was enough to survive the carnage that was our first year of trading.

Three months, nay, three weeks after opening, we knew we were too short on space. We had done our best with what was a tiny wee space, and it was all we could afford at the time, but alas, it still wasnt enough. During our Christmas break, I set about scouring the village and surrounding area for extra production space. As usual, our customers came up trumps and sent endless ideas, offers of garages, unused outbuildings and even a stable at one point. It was heart-warming and generous to say the least. Eventually, we found an old veterinary practice a mile away in Birnam. Come summer, after many a hiccup (no thanks to a certain large power company), we were up and running on a far grander scale.

With the production kitchen fully functioning, the way our days panned out changed drastically. There was enough worktop space to make croissants through the day, something that was previously an evening task. We had more oven space, and suddenly were able to bake cakes and bread at the same time with the previous set-up, that would have resulted in a cake so burnt you could use it for charcoal. We had to relearn our whole day-to-day system.

DAILY RITUALS

Baking is so much about time, and time of day. It can also be about capturing the time in the day, savouring little moments to yourself. Bread will always be best when baked fresh in the wee hours of the morning, and there is something about the promise of this that makes commencing the process a whole 24 hours prior far easier to set about. The smell of hot butter and baking croissants will for me always be associated with a weekend morning, the sort where pyjamas remain your outfit of choice well into the day. Loaf cakes are best enjoyed mid-morning, cuppa in hand, and ideally with something equally delicious to read. Fancy cakes are often reserved for late in the afternoon, maybe even paired with a glass of something special, enjoyed as part of a high or afternoon tea. My point here being that baked goods always have their own place and time. They capture memories of that day, or that hour, and tend to remind me of previous meals eaten and enjoyed in a similar light.