The area surrounding Freestone, a tiny town just west of Sebastopol, California, is home to more sheep, cows and goats than human residents. But when Wild Flour Bread opens its doors, the human population likely doubles.
Last Sunday my wife and I waded through a sea of pastry enthusiasts as they gathered out front to drink coffee and eat fresh baked goods. Once inside, the warm air smelled of cinnamon. A crowd sampled sweet breads, cheese breads, crusty breads, and scones, all the while juggling hats, mittens and wallets. We ordered the Egyptian, a sweet bread of pear, ginger, and fig.
After filling up our coffees, we strolled into the garden next door. Surrounded by lavender, broccoli, lettuce, and kale sprouts, we sat on a wood bench beneath a tree, keeping company with garden sculptures nestled in nasturtiums. Peeling back the paper covering our bread, we found a sticky sweet, buttery, ginger glaze loaf, that warmed our hands and bellies, as we devoured it in the crisp morning air.