Few things will get me out of bed faster on a lazy Saturday morning than the prospects of a trek to Bread Furst. The bakery is a staple of not just our neighborhood, but of DC as a whole and the larger bakery community. It’s a place that transports you from the moment you enter. With rows and rows of cakes, pastry, croissants. But before you can see those, you’ll pass by the open bakery, where loaves of rye and sourdough are being loaded into a massive oven or cooled on wire racks.
Bread Furst opened in the same month that I moved to DC, so in many ways, we grew up together. I learned how to be independent while this fledgling bakery took off. In 2017, they won the James Beard award and every patron had the same thought: “this is so overdue”. Their breads are spectacular and one of my greatest regrets continues to be that I didn’t accept a bakery apprenticeship when it was offered to me last year.
I find myself coming to Bread Furst several times a week, either for coffee before the long drive out to my 9-to-5 in Virginia, Sunday afternoons for a salmon cake with dill sauce, or mid-week for a baguette to accompany dinner. If there’s a reason to go elsewhere, I haven’t found it yet.
There’s seemingly always a reason to stop in, even if it just to say “hello”, and to me, that’s the beauty of having a bakery on your corner.