Glynnis MacNicol - Becoming a Baker

B ECOMING A N EUROSURGEON

B ECOMING A V ETERINARIAN

B ECOMING A V ENTURE C APITALIST

B ECOMING A H AIRSTYLIST

B ECOMING A R EAL E STATE A GENT

B ECOMING A M ARINE B IOLOGIST

B ECOMING AN E THICAL H ACKER

B ECOMING A L IFE C OACH

ALSO AVAILABLE

B ECOMING A Y OGA I NSTRUCTOR

B ECOMING A R ESTAURATEUR

B ECOMING A P RIVATE I NVESTIGATOR

B ECOMING A B AKER

B ECOMING A S OMMELIER

B ECOMING A C URATOR

B ECOMING AN A RCHITECT

B ECOMING A F ASHION D ESIGNER

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First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition September 2019

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-1-9821-2027-6

ISBN 978-1-9821-2028-3 (ebook)

F OR THE M S, OF COURSE

I ts 1:00 p.m. on a Tuesday in February in Park Slope, Brooklyn. A bitter wind barrels down the nearly empty sidewalks of Eighth Avenue. This is the quiet hour. Lunchtime is over and the schools wont let out for another two hours, spilling students onto the sidewalks and into the local diners and coffee shops. Weather forecasters are predicting a winter storm for tomorrow, and theres the slightly ominous feeling in the air of a city preparing to batten down.

Park Slope has a reputation for many things, but tops among them is that it is a neighborhood for families. If New York City is essentially a cluster of small townseach with its own history, customs, and rules; grouped together in a tiny space; and connected by subway lines instead of highwaysPark Slope has long been the place couples with small children leave the city for when they dont actually want to leave the city. These days, real estate prices are such that relocations like this are largely limited to millionaires, but the neighborhood still manages to maintain a seventies, Sesame Street vibe despite the influx of money. This is the epicenter of Brooklyns brownstone-lined streets, the heart of New Yorks liberal leanings. Mayor Bill de Blasio has called it home for decades, and still makes the trip all the way from Gracie Mansion on the Upper East Side to exercise at the local YMCA every day. Senator Chuck Schumers downstate residence is in one of the handful of prewar apartment buildings that line Prospect Park a few blocks away. Park Slopes legendary food co-opfounded in the early seventies by residents who wanted access to good foodis one of the oldest and largest in the nation; its also notorious for strict membership rules that have generated near-mythical stories around the city over the years.

Eighth Avenue runs between bustling Seventh Avenue, the neighborhoods main street, and Prospect Park West, which borders the west side of the park. Prospect Park is Brooklyns version of Central Park, minus the tourists and the fences needed to prevent them from ruining the grass. In the summer, the park is the boroughs enormous bustling backyard, hosting barbecues, drum circles, picnics, and concerts. Right now, its mostly empty save for a few resolute joggers and cyclists taking advantage of its emptier hours. If the forecasted storm brings actual snow tomorrow, then the Long Meadow will become host to a serious sledding scene, but for now everything remains gray and cold.

Eighth Avenue is almost entirely residential. From where it begins off Grand Army Plaza to where it ends a mile and a half south at the Prospect Expressway before continuing to and merging with Fort Hamilton Parkway, its a long series of brownstone stoops and apartment entries, interspersed with a few churches and synagogues from one end to the other, save for a pocket of blink-and-you-might-miss small stores between Eleventh and Twelfth Streets that somehow slipped through the zoning laws. This pocket of stores is so easily missed, in fact, that when one gets off the F or G train exit at the corner of Ninth Street and Eighth Avenue and begins walking south, there is almost always a moment of panic just past the corner of Tenth Street: Is it still there? Does it look closed? Has it packed up and disappeared like so many other beloved New York businesses? But then you cross Eleventh Street and you sigh from relief. Its still there. Along with the small spa, taco place, and pizza bar on the far corner. There right in the middle, the narrow blue awning now visible, thank goodness, is Ladybird Bakery.

Ladybird Bakery

Ladybird is tiny. Small even by New York standards, it has a quaint mom-and-pop appearance that so many new businesses try to capture, except here its underdone in a way that reinforces its authenticity. The patina has been earned, not created. A simple sky-blue awning hangs over the door, displaying the name LADYBIRD in contained letters that are barely readable a block away (hence the repeated panic that comes with every visit). On either end of the awning are the bakerys address and phone number. The phone number hints to its longstanding presence in the neighborhood; a throwback to when people called to place their order, rather than doing it online. The windows are rimmed with paintings of wildflowers. On either side of the door are plain wooden benches that invite loitering; despite its small footprint, customers are invited to take up as much space as they can.

Once inside, the narrow room is dominated by a large glass display case that is brimming with baked goods. Like suddenly stepping into a bright light, it can take a few minutes to make sense of everything that is being offered. To the left are all the tarts and pies, on the right are all the cakeseach shelf devoted to a different size and flavor. On top of the counter are plates of cookies, muffins, and, if you get there early enough, scones. The floor behind the counter is elevated, so the servers can better see the customers, but even with their added height, the servers still have to peer at customers through the tall plates of baked goods piled on the counter. Opposite the counter are a handful of tables pushed against the windows, enough to sit two to three people each. In the morning, these tables are filled with young schoolchildren and their parents; around 3:00 p.m., they are crowded with high school students stopping by for a snack.

Once your eye adjusts to the bonanza of baked goodsthe cakes with different icings and colorful decorations are especially dazzlingit slowly becomes apparent that there are few actual signs marking whats what. There are no price tags at all. You must ask. Its at this stage of the purchasing process that it becomes especially easy to spot the regular from the newbie. Those who point with assurance when called upon the six-inch Blackout, please and those who pause, frown, and then begin a series of familiar questions: Whats in that cake? How much does the small one cost? How many inches is the big one? Can I have it personalized? Ladybird is a place that requires conversation.