Anjou Bakery

Anjou bakes in an old apple warehouse surrounded by orchard, and the setting does half the work. The other half is the pastry: laminated croissants with real shatter, country loaves with a dark, blistered crust, and fruit tarts built on whatever Cashmere is picking that week.

Go before eleven. The best things sell out, the line moves quickly, and the picnic tables outside are the right place to eat a croissant with a coffee and no particular plan.

The bake schedule is the thing to understand here. Bread comes out of the wood-fired oven early, pastry follows, and by mid-morning the case has been picked over by people who know the routine. Arrive at eight and you can have your choice of almond croissant, morning bun, and a country loaf still warm enough to steam when you tear it. Arrive at one and you are choosing between what is left, which is still good, but not the full picture of what this bakery can do. Coffee is straightforward drip and espresso rather than a specialty program, which feels correct — the pastry is the point.