The definition of good fortune at The Great American Bakery Hunt

The definition of good fortune at The Great American Bakery Hunt is having great people in your life who spontaneously deliver pastries to you from bakeries outside your own city.  On several occasions, friends have blessed me with caring tastes, treats, or nibbles from a delicious travel-worthy bakery, either one they are visiting as a destination or perhaps one from their current residence, bringing me a brownie, tart slice, or whoopie pie as they pass through California.


There was the time Alexis brought me a massive oatmeal cookie from Levain Bakery in New York.  April, a frequent contributor to the hunt, has contributed with deliveries from San Diego, San Francisco, and even Maui.  Meera sent 'cupcakes in a jar' and cheesecake through the mail!  And Justin sent homemade graham crackers via the good old USPS.  So many people have contributed to the hunt that there are too many highlights to mention, although I have been grateful for each and every bite.


Most recently, friend of the hunt Lindsay stopped at Andersen's in Santa Barbara and left me a surprise pastry, waiting on my desk at work.  My heart belongs to this Andersen's pastry, and Lindsay knows this-- it's a version of a Danish dessert I can't seem to find anywhere else in the US, so there has been a constant yearning for it since the day I left my study abroad program in Denmark.  My Danish host mother, Lone, associates me with this pastry to such an extent that every time she sees one, she says she thinks of me (she's a baker by profession.) My love for this pastry is so great that Lindsay might as well have left a million dollars on my desk.  Lindsay is also a fan of sending pastries through the USPS-- so you never know when a box of whoopie pies may arrive in the mail with her famous loopy handwriting urging you to enjoy their decadence.

Then there was a recent special delivery from Alex-- which she packed on her flight from Washington to California and hand-carried to my office from Seattle's Macrina bakery.  Sadly,  these treats never made the journey into my stomach, but her actions were still heroic in the eyes of The Great American Bakery Hunt.  Long story short, Alex traveled to California to volunteer, thought she was going to see me for a work event, and didn't know I was away for a series of days off.  Her enthusiasm for pastry travels can be clearly seen in the photo below, where both Alex's smile and the box of pastries light up the room.  When she arrived at my office, this photo text message arrived from fellow bakery hunter April:

"Do you know what this box says? Macrina.  Alex brought them for you.  Sorry you're not here but we'll take care of business and eat them for you.  With love from Alex."    

Thanks to Alex for being so incredibly thoughtful and bringing this lovely box of pastries to California.  While I'm sorry I could not be there to enjoy them, I am happy that good people who appreciated pastries were around to get the job done.


And I had to appreciate the follow up text message with a snapshot inventory of all the goods: "A peek from the inside.  Chocolate macaroons, vanilla macaroons, fruit bar, pecan bar, toffee brownie, plum roll.  Believe it. True story.  About to eat them all."  Thank you to Alex for bringing the joy of the hunt, all the way from Seattle to California.  And thanks to all of my friends who think of me when they're within smelling distance of a bakery.  You are all gems and I am lucky to have you.

Kitchen comforts of 2011

Kitchen comforts of 2011: Taking the time to light some candles.  Late night chocolate chip cookie baking.  Receiving FCK soccer fan paraphernalia sent from Denmark to California, with love from my host mom (see wristband above that also doubles as a napkin ring!)  

My semester abroad in Denmark opened up a world of pastries, but it also introduced me to European soccer culture.  Almost as soon as I stepped off the plane, my host sister convinced me that her favorite team FCK had to be my team as well, especially since her brothers were fans of FCK's rival team.  Years later, I'm still nostalgic for our fan club of two and the memories of my second home.

     

Editor's note:  If you're in the mood for a little Scandinavian culture, check out the Swedish film "Simple Simon."  It's not only a great Scandinavian film, but one of the best films I have seen in a long time and an Oscar entry for Sweden!  Thanks to the annual Scandinavian film festival in LA for giving me the opportunity to watch this incredible film.

Scandinavian film festival returns to LA!

For all of you Scandinavia loving readers out there, don't forget to check out the lineup for this year's Scandinavian Film Festival in Beverly Hills. What better way to pay homage to such a great bakery country than to watch some Scandinavian film?

I don't know of any other place you can access such a variety of recent Scandinavian films, so I'll surely be checking it out. As tradition dictates, my friend Hae Jin will attend with me and we will drink one honorary Carlsberg to celebrate and relive our glory days studying in Copenhagen.

Sipping away on imported memories, we'll chatter about the films and try to resist staring enviously at people when they speak Danish. As we watch the films, squinting at subtitles, we'll dream of one day returning to that chilly city that won our hearts.

Travel pangs

I've been having Europe pangs lately, so I googled a route from my hometown in California to my old residence in Denmark. Turns out I'll have to "swim across the Atlantic Ocean" around step 28 of the directions, but at least I'll be entering through France! We all know there's nothing I love more than a swim in the Atlantic and some pain au chocolate!

Denmark and Canada face off...

Ever heard of Hans Island? Denmark and Canada are both claiming the island as their own by hoisting flags, representing with warships, and even burying bottles of brandy in the ground. And according to the Associated Press, both Canadians and Danes have taken out competing Google Ads proclaiming sovereignty over the rock. The disagreement has even led some Canadians to call for a ban on Danish pastries, which leads The Great American Bakery Hunt to ask: Aren't they only punishing themselves?

Jeg savner dig...news from my family in Denmark

"Jeg savner dig" means I miss you in Danish, a phrase that is impossible to forget since I am always thinking about how much I would love to see my Danish host family again. It has been much too long since I have seen them last, but to my delight, my host sister called me this morning to chat! I heard about all the latest news, including what my host mom has been baking lately. Of course, it made my mouth water-- it's a little hard to think about missing her lovely baked creations...

Sara and I talked about FCK, her favorite football team, and their defeat to rival Brondby last night. I also learned that my host sister just chose what language she will focus on in middle school: French! So now, in addition to her helping me learn Danish and me helping her to practice English, we can also practice our third language of choice together! C'est super! And thanks to the American Scandinavian Foundation of Los Angeles, I could even speak with her about the recent Danish film I saw at the Scandinavian film festival!

It was so good to hear her voice! I had written the host fam awhile back about my efforts here at The Great American Bakery Hunt. Sara asked me to confirm the address of the site over the phone. She said that maybe she could show it to her English class at school!

I started spelling the web address, but I wanted to make sure she got it right. "D" is for dog, O is for "ost", R is for "rundstykke", F is for "Farvel!", S is for "snake", B is for "bus", l is for "lang"...and we went on, confirming each letter by giving Danish and English word examples. So if her English teacher comes on the website, she can see that Sara is quite a diligent student. For some reason, it just makes me happy to think that somewhere on another continent, a group of European schoolchildren might randomly come on to this site* as a part of a show-and-tell exercise!

*So Sara's English class, if you are out there, you should know that you are VERY lucky to live in a country where there are SO many good bakeries. I am one jealous American girl that you can eat warm rundstykkes every day, and drink Matilde chocolate milk whenever you want! Also, I would like to say: Hej fra America, og jeg elsker dig Sara! Du er dygtig!

Danes are a happy bunch...

I've always speculated that Denmark reported high levels of happiness in world surveys because of the abundance of amazing pastries in the country.

The editors of Foreign Policy offer a different explanation.

Seems retailers are catching on to my expatriate sensibilities

Do you want your clothing to reflect your deep love of Scandinavia? I sure do! Here at The Great American Bakery Hunt, we have a great appreciation for all things Scandinavian, largely (but not solely) because of the amazing Scandinavian bakeries that make this world a better place.

Enter Norwegiantees.com, an online retailer dedicated to Norwegian inspired t-shirts. Each shirt has a brief English explanation that describes how Norwegian culture influenced the design. Many of the designs capture the carefree, honest humor that is often associated with Scandinavian culture.

For example, a t-shirt featuring a moose design includes a caption that reads:

"The moose is the largest animal in the deer family which trots around the Norwegian woods and is called the king of the woods. Did you know that "hollering for the moose" is Norwegian slang, which means puking after a night of partying on the town? You do now..."

I can't say that I have any sentimental value for that phrase, since I was a resident of Denmark (Although I will surely be flaunting this new lingo around the streets of Orange County. "Did you see ___ last night? (S)he was hollerin' for the old moose like there was no tomorrow!, or maybe "Better not have one more drink, Bob. You'll be hollering for the moose by midnight at this rate.")

One of the shirts really struck a chord in my Scandinavia-obsessed heart:

My favorite is the ostehøvel tee, a wearable ode to cheese and the tool that makes eating it possible. When I lived in Denmark, there was nothing better than a warm home-baked slice of bread in the morning topped with butter, jam, and a stinky (and I mean that in the best way possible) creamy slice of Danish cheese.

Sadly, I do not know how I can replicate this breakfast concoction here in the states. Not only am I lacking fresh home-made bread made by my jolly Danish host mother, but I have no idea what that glorious stinky cheese is called! It never had a label, but always remained a mysterious, lovely presence in our small Danish fridge-- a big block of dairy greatness.

On most mornings in Denmark, I grabbed my open-faced cheese, butter, and jam sandwich as I ran out the door to catch my bus to school into Copenhagen. When I think of mornings in Roskilde, I think of that cheese, my voracious morning appetite, and how I was certain that the bus driver sniffed it as I took discreet bites and tried to bypass the "no eating" rule. (On a somewhat unrelated note, I also recall the theme song of a silly Danish children's show playing in the background as I struggled out the door each day with bookbag, breakfast, madpakke (lunch bag), and overcoat in tow. My host sister was a loyal morning viewer of "Martin og Ketil", a show that featured Martin, and his friend Ketil in a sort of Space Age hyperactive version of Mr. Rogers. Although I could rarely understand what they were saying, it was probably one of the funniest children's shows I ever layed eyes on. The two grown men went through a ritual each day, where they mixed a seemingly random, and often disgusting, combination of ingredients in their blender, which sat in the center console of their spaceship. I never found out why.)

Anyhow, those morning bus ride breakfasts live on in my memory: the thrill of defiance as I nibbled on the soft middle of the bread (the risk always worth the payoff), the perfectly chewy outside crust, my DSB transportation pass smeared with the residue of delicious, heavenly Danish butter, and the jingle of the Martin og Ketil theme song dancing around in my head. The simple ingredients were so satisfying, and as I sit here blogging, it's very possible that if I don't stop daydreaming, I will drool on my keyboard at the very thought of it.

That's all I can handle folks. It is with a heavy heart that I conclude this post. I would love to wear my ostehøvel shirt and support the young Norwegian designers that run Norwegiantees.com, but $40 (including shipping) for a t-shirt is a little too steep for my budget right now.

I am hoping to actually travel again in Scandinavia, and I best be saving up since Copenhagen will hardly be easy on the billfold. If anyone wants to buy ostehøvel for me, I promise to write you a nice thank you letter with a heartfelt "Tusind Tak" inside. But I would suggest buying one for yourself to keep the folks at Norwegian tees in business.

Clearly, a Norwegian tee is a wonderfully clever and whimsical gift, one that keeps on giving. And if you don't get it at the $40 price now, you know the t-shirts will be retailing at some outrageous $80 price at Urban Outfitters later on. I wish I was joking, but it is destined to happen. (I find that the trendy retailer is often exploiting the desires of wannabe expatriates like myself. Take this Europe themed hoodie , for example, an item that preys upon my aspirations to be an adventurous jetsetter. But how will I travel if I spend my money on $54 hoodies? Lucky Brand already snatched up my hard-earned dollars this year by designing a Paris-themed Eiffel Tower t-shirt. This madness has to stop somewhere.)

And so, my heart gets heavier, as I long for wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen once again, and hope that someday, I will return to Europe.

Scandinavian film festival comes to Los Angeles

For all of my fellow foreign film geeks out there, I want to give a Great American Bakery Hunt shout out to the Scandinavian film festival, which is in full swing this weekend in Los Angeles.

Organized by the American-Scandinavian Foundation of Los Angeles, the event is featuring contemporary films from Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway, and Sweden. Eager audiences can make reservations and check out the line-up online, a selection that includes both full length features and shorts.

The event will also feature the "Nordic cafe" in the theater lobby, where film fans can "network and nosh" and "enjoy refreshments and the good company of others who share a love for Scandinavian film and Hollywood". I'm hoping that there will be some tasty pastries to munch on, but I'm not going to get my hopes up.

Jeg elsker dig Scandinavia, and I can't wait for the festival!

Pastry crawl, anyone?

Poilane in Paris, France

Chowhounds are people who live to eat, or so says Chow.com, a site dedicated to everything and anything related to the quest for good food (you might say that The Great American Bakery Hunt is the small, modest, red-headed chubby stepchild of Chow.com, as we are so focused on one aspect of the food industry and could never possibly encompass the informative, exhaustive, and entertaining culinary grandeur that is Chow. Even so, I'd like to think that Chow and Bakery Hunt readers alike might one day develop a mutual respect for each other in this crazy and mixed up blog saturated, media frenzied, mouth watering land of food-questing Internet utopia).

I was recently looking through Chow's Los Angeles message board when I came across some kindred spirits: Los Angeles bakery hunters who go on much celebrated and adventurous "pastry crawls" or "bakery crawls" in order to search for elusive sources of perfected baked goods within Southern California.

It occurs to me now that I have been on many a pastry crawl, but I had just never thought to describe these searches with such a clever term of endearment. Although I plan on adopting this lingo as a part of my bakery obsessed vernacular, I feel the need to differentiate between "bakery crawls" and "bakery hunts".

Bakery hunting refers to a serious mission, one approached with drive, perseverance, and unfaltering determination to fulfill the quest for new bakeries. During a bakery hunt, you must stop at nothing to pursue discovery and new culinary conquests. This is serious, très sérieux! (French added for emphasis). You vow to try new things. Although the hunt will sometimes end in disappointment, you vow to begin hunting another day with even more vigor. It is always a worthy challenge.

You give no thought to social consequence. Your face may be smeared with sweet jams, your vehicle might be covered in baguette crumbs, you might even have little balls of molasses cookie residue forming in the crevices of your lips. You are certainly not going to be sharing the details of this trip with your fellow members of Overeater's Anonymous, and you doubt you will be squeezing into a bikini/speedo anytime soon. But you go on, you persevere. You're dough-thirsty for fresh treats, and you've got tunnel vision.

Bakery and pastry crawls are much different. Crawls are all about pleasure, not business. Crawls involve a certain amount of predetermined planning. You set aside a whole day for a bakery crawl, it is indeed, a long awaited, much anticipated event-- an occasion if you will. If you're desperate enough for a good crawl, you call in sick to work. You fill up your car with gas on the night before. You make a visit to the ATM for extra milk money. You avoid wearing black in anticipation of powdered sugar consumption. You have extra quarters ready for parking meters, or to compensate "the reserves", aka little kids you give extra change to, so they will go inside the bakery and buy you a fourth helping of your favorite baklava to escape the judging looks of the other customers (Hey, someday they'll be asking you to buy them cigarettes, right?). You tell the girl/guy that you're dating that you have to wash your hair that day, or get rid of them a la Greg Brady, by explaining that "something just suddenly came up". And you enlist the help of a worthy crony in your life, someone who will not judge you when you have to unbutton your pants a little at the end of the day, someone willing to block out an entire day on their calendar for the love of the crawl.

After all of the plans are made, your slumber is hindered by the anticipation of the crawl, much like a child on Christmas Eve awaiting a new Transformer or perhaps a Tenth Anniversary Tickle Me Elmo (Elmo has anniversaries??). You awake to drool, slathered on your face as a testament to your love and dedication to pastries. And the crawl begins. The crawl need not contain new stops along your bakery tour, it may simply be a day for you to celebrate your favorite pastries and baked goods. Sure you can throw a few curve balls into the lineup, but most of the goods will be your old stand-bys.

At the end of the day you will feel satisfied and full. You will allow yourself to sit in a vegetative state, dazed in front of the television by a news magazine show featuring a shocking story about pesticides, then one about teenage prostitution. You will have no free will to move in order to get the remote, so you will then watch an acne infomercial hosted by Marie Osmond. Fabio will make a cameo, followed by Kelly Clarkson, after which you will fall into a deep slumber. Ah, sweet pastry crawl.

I welcome suggestions from anyone who has a favorite pastry crawl. Hopefully, with the help of my blog, you will begin to understand the subtle differences between pastry crawls, hunts, and everything in between.

Personally, the following is my ideal pastry crawl if expense and logic is not an issue:

I would fly to Denmark, landing at CPH, Copenhagen's peaceful airport, and then take the train to the Norrebro stop. From there I would go to Skt Peders Bakery, which is about a ten minute walk away from the train. Following my stroll in the city, I would surprise my host mother in Roskilde, and request that she make me her famous Cinnamon rolls and breads. Also, I would ask for her hot dogs and sausages with warm, homemade fresh bread wrapped around the dogs in a heavenly warm embrace.

The best hot dogs in the world, straight from my host mom's Danish kitchen!

My host mom's cinamon bread-- It must have been fate when I was placed in a homestay with such an excellent baker!

Then I would fly to France, stopping off for breakfast at the Hotel DeVille Bakery (Hotel DeVille stop) for an Ouranais. Then I would swing over to Poilane, where I would have an open faced sandwich at their cafe (featuring their famous bread), and then grab one of the best apple tarts I have ever laid my eyes on (it has the best flaky outer ring of dough), waiting to eat it until I reached the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Boulangerie de l'Hotel de Ville in Paris, France

Then I would come back over to the U.S., grab some French's chocolate fudge torte cake, and call it a day. (Of course, I would need a side of ice cold milk). If there was still room, I might squeeze in a chocolate chip cookie or two made by my mom.

Next week, on the Great American Bakery hunt:

Pastry benders, binges, and extravaganzas- indulgent and excessive pastry marathons, resulting in sugar-induced stupors, empty wallets, and most likely health problems if you engage in this behavior enough! Then again, let us not speak of such things. A crawl is indulgent enough-- a bender just goes beyond reason. Pastries, especially exceptional pastries, should be savoured, not devoured. Thus, our adventures of pastry crawls, not pastry runs! Pastry crawl, anyone?

Bakery Hunting...

After a satisfying lunch of bratwurst, sauerkraut, and German-style potato salad at the Globe German Deli in Costa Mesa, I ventured a few blocks over for a bakery hunt. The hunt started out well, since I was able to use my small amount of Danish expertise to convince one of the shop owners that the DanSukker I was holding was indeed sugar and not salt. After attempting to bake in Denmark and going on supermarket adventures in Kvikly to find the right stuff, I was sure of this one. I was proud of myself today, a little too proud. I still have a lot to learn when it comes to Danish. I love the Globe Deli because even if they don't always know whether they are selling you salt or sugar, they give you great German sausage and they do it with a smile! Plus, they have Danish products, which means that I am a happy happy girl when in the Globe Deli.

Anyway, on to the bakery hunt...

I snooped around the greatly anticipated new location of the Sunflower Bakery to take a gander at their fresh digs. According to one of the employees, the store will not be open for another month or so. But if you're a great investigative journalist like me, you can walk around the back and purchase items wholesale (Alright, alright, so there was a sign with an arrow, but it was in a somewhat tinted storefront window people). The new bakery is located off of Baker in Costa Mesa, tucked away on Grace Street, and I am looking forward to sampling its delights!

The genius of the location is clear: It is extremely close to my house, and since close proximity to me gives bakeries an even better chance of more local bakery fiend business, I'd say they are in for a pleasant surprise. Bakers: stick with zip code 92626, you'll be golden. Also, allow me to point out the genius of a bakery located within seconds of a dairy (and a drive in dairy no less)? This allows for a more satisfying bakery hunt indeed. The dairy I speak of is since is Manneh's Alta Dena Dairy, which is within a minute's walking distance of Sunflower, and located on the corner of Baker and Grace.

Where to find it:
Alta-Dena Drive in Dairy
1085 Baker Street
Costa Mesa, CA 92626

The dairy is also easily accessible after a visit to French's Pastry Bakery, which is on the same street. (French's hold a special place in my heart since their chocolate fudge cake has always been a fixture at different special events and birthdays within my family. It has become such a tradition that we even declared an annual "chocolate cake season" that spans several holidays and birthdays within about a three month period of one another. Basically, it's a good time to purchase a 3-month gym membership).

But back to the dairy, oh sweet dairy of mine in Costa Mesa.

This dairy reminds me of how I am often torn between two of my favorite European cultures. While I celebrate my French background on my mother's side, I am disloyal to my culture in one respect: their attitude towards consumption of dairy products. Growing up in America, it seemed there was no better combination than baked goods (particularly chocolate chip cookies) and a glass of milk.

When I lived in Denmark, Danes seemed to have an equally great appreciation for a good glass of milk. In fact, Danish milk is the best I have tasted yet. (While I never knew what I was missing as a young American child, studying abroad ruined me as far as dairy libations go--Trust me dear readers, once you go Danish dairy, you never go back). In Denmark, it is not uncommon to see Danish business men and women, teenagers, and kids alike drinking oversized cartons of Matilde chocolate milk as they wait for their bus or train ride home after work and school. Matilde chocolate milk reigns far supreme over any Nestle or Hershey's concoction we have in the US. It is a seriously spiritual experience if you like chocolate milk.

However, when it comes to drinking milk in France, I was told it is unfashionable, juvenile, and ridiculous even. I found this out by accident, when I was walking down the street in Paris, pastry in one hand, small jug of milk in the other. Apparently this was so shocking to a local passerby that she did a double take before going on her merry French way. I was not even sure why she did a double take at first, and quickly forgot the incident.

Then I visited Millies Cookie's, a UK-based cookie shop located in the Opera Metro station in Paris which offers a generic but decent chocolate chip cookie (a European quick fix for any American having a chocolate chip cookie craving, which I seem to have quite often). When I purchased three cookies, and then asked the cashier if I could buy some milk, she laughed at me. I knew something was up, and asked my friendly hotel clerk Sasha why French people seemed to think me ridiculous. He told us that milk is something that "small kids" drink, and could not stop smirking, presumably because of our silly American reliance on calcium products. He did explain that his birthplace, Normandy, makes some excellent dairy products, but insisted that one had no place drinking milk in the city of lights if they happened to be over the age of six. (Even six seemed to be pushing it). What gives Paris? You have all of these amazing bakeries and no love for the moo-juice? I was not the only one with milk woes. I also met a lovely American bakery owner from Boston, who had married a French man and relocated to Paris (I wanted to steal her life, but not in the creepy way you are thinking, just in the way that it would be amazing to live in Paris, learn French, and be a part of the bakery culture there. I am one step closer to being a Parisian at this point, because I just enrolled in Practical French at Goldenwest College, and I am pumped up. This will only aid me further when I pursue future international bakery hunts!).

Where to find it:
Mr et Mme Crocher- artisan boulanger
off the Argentine Metro stop in Paris
(her husband mostly does all the baking, but she will offer friendly service, food tips, directions, or any other advice you might need as an American in Paris)

A self-described "milk fiend" (I swear, I quoted her in my travel notebook), she commiserated with me as I told my tales of milk mockery. She explained that she had also noticed the void of milk after growing up in the States, and explained that whenever her family visits the USA, their children cannot get their hands on enough milk. Poor French-American kids, all confused and conflicted over their calcium intake. They need to go on a little "holiday" to Denmark, that's what I'm saying.

Even as my taste expanded to pastries, cakes, and tarts, milk always seems an essential companion to baked goods consumption. And this is why I am disgruntled with French culture. Although I have no Danish blood, I have to say that I side with the Danes on this one. Don't get me wrong, I still deeply love Paris. I just don't love having to search high and low for milk to go with my ever present pastry, only to be shamed for it later. Try it our way Paris, it's not all bad.

In other news, I am now officially connected to Chowhound , an online discussion forum for "people who live to eat". I am hoping to find some good contributions to the Great American Bakery Hunt, and have already began to search the posts with a few good leads.

An introduction to the hunt...

While The Great American Bakery Hunt glorifies pastry consumption and bakery visits, The Hunt is about much more than this. This blog is a way to show reverence for the practice of living of life at a slower pace. A visit to the bakery is surrounded by a thousand small and beautiful interactions and details: a bakery is a place to slow down and appreciate these details, an opportunity to savor life.

Whether I am writing about breaking bread or hunting it, The Great American Bakery Hunt is about the simple things that feed us in life- physically, culturally, or otherwise. I long for the bakery culture that I once experienced as a temporary resident of Roskilde, Denmark and as a pastry-obsessed traveler to Paris, France. In both countries, life at a slower pace allowed me to wander freely through an endless maze of bakeries, and to explore my historic surroundings with a warm belly full of hand-crafted, mouth-watering baked good creations. Some of these creations came from the very kitchen of my Danish host mother, a professional baker whose tasty recipes were brought into my life by a lucky twist of fate.

By traveling through these faraway lands, I realized that while we have some wonderful bakeries here in the States, we lack the same appreciation for bakery culture that other societies have. Throughout the world, others know the importance of a strong bakery culture-- the beauty of a well-executed baguette, or a carefully crafted pastry are widely appreciated art forms. The EU, for example, even developed a special campaign glorifying baked goods and their recipes from various EU countries. "Sweet Europe: Be Seduced," reads their transnational bakery mantra. Meanwhile, American bakery culture continues to be under appreciated and underdeveloped. I know there are some amazing pastry chefs and bakers in America, and I look forward to discovering more of them as I continue The Great American Bakery Hunt. However, when it comes to bringing their creations to the people, there is a disconnect between culinary creation and consumption. Through The Hunt, I hope to bring new discoveries to those who crave bakery culture. I demand more American bakery culture now.

Here in Southern California, we have some great bakeries, but little bakery culture to speak of. Instead of stopping by their neighborhood bakery, most folks frantically stop at Starbucks, ready to juice up our system in preparation for intense freeway commuting. We have no time for eye contact or pleasantries with the barista, we only stop momentarily to check the time on our cell phones before we race out the door and pound down an uber-caffeinated hold- the- whip beverage, cursing our burning hands because we forgot to get our cardboard sleeve. Americans are all about convenience, but in this fast-paced convenience, we lose something. Unlike the countless layers of buttery Danish pastries, there is no soul, no depth to our triple cappuccinos. (Certainly those coffee beans came from somewhere, but human connection is a faraway one indeed.)

But in this loss, we have gained a worthwhile challenge, and this is where The Great American Bakery Hunt comes in. Great bakeries do not just come to you-- you must search far and wide, tirelessly and devotedly, to find the best in bakery culture. You may even need to use the fearless, aggressive, and unstoppable tactics of a hunter to gain what you need. Not just any bakery will do-- you must search high and low for bakeries that fortify the bakery culture with pride, expertise, and vision.

Before all witnesses of this blog, I vow that I will tirelessly explore bakery culture, reporting items of baked relevance to readers to the best of my ability.

The Great American Bakery Hunt is a place where European and American bakery cultures meet. It is clear that America is settling, but I will hold continue to hold dear the idea of a nation where individuals enjoy quality baked goods as an everyday right.

I welcome any American baker to send me samples, locations of great American bakeries, challenges, rebuttals, comments, questions, concerns, rants, or even recipes if they feel compelled to do so after reading my comments. I want to believe in great American bakeries, much like I always wanted to believe in the tooth fairy, but I have not seen much of either of you yet. I hope you prove my suspicions wrong. There must be others of you who long for truly amazing bakeries around every American corner, I know there are. I would love it if you shared your insights with me, as fellow bakery hunting enthusiasts. Until then, the hunt continues...