A Word From Charles.
As far back as I can remember I have been crazy about bread, my earliest memory about bread was when my mother would send me to the local bakery, to pick up a freshly baked bloomer with blue poppy seeds on top, wrapped in wax paper. She would cut two thick perfect slices and add a generous layer of butter and homemade strawberry jam, to me it was just magic and I was the happiest kid in the world. When I was around eleven or twelve years old, I would deliver newspapers on my bicycle around the neighbourhood and at the end of my route, I would knock on the back door to the local bakery and have a chat with the bakers, and trade a fresh newspaper with a fresh spandauer a classic Danish pastry with a dollop of vanilla custard in the middle. One day the owner of the bakery, would ask me if i wanted a job after school to help out in the bakery with the cleaning and arranging the bread and pastries in the shop window, I was so excited that I would come in and help before school and after school again. This is now more than 35 years ago, and I have been working as a baker ever since.