Bread and Roses

Bread and Roses is the best name for a bakery, enticing as the smell of freshly baked things. Both lured me in off the sidewalk about a year ago. I recall an immediate sentiment of abundance in the trays of cookies, walls of bread and cupcakes with dark chocolate frosting slathered thick on top, homemade style.

Bread and Roses is a term associated with a 1912 strike in which the workers (supposedly) made it their slogan, demanding more than their proverbial bread.

When I returned to Bread and Roses this week, the bread was actually sold out. Although disappointed, I knew this was a good sign for the bakery so it didn't diminish my high expectations for the "roses" I'd have to "settle" for.

The place is busy. Regular customers order homemade soup out of steaming cauldrons. There are sandwiches on huge slices of bread. The turkey pot pie ($4.25) looks stuffed and buttery and comes recommended. It goes down rich and smooth - a filling accompaniment to the perogies ($4.99).

They are a hearty mass of pure potato and batter, "our grandmother's original recipe." I appreciate that both dishes are garnished with a quarter dill pickle. It doesn't exactly seem suitable, but I like a dill pickle with anything.

I'm told that the macaroons ($0.94) are a popular sweet choice. Mine is plucked from a small confectionery mountain as though specially chosen for me. It's crunchy and sweet around the outside and draped in chocolate.

I talk to the kid behind the counter about the name of the place, and she's not sure about the significance because the place has changed hands a few times since the original owners. But she does have a vague understanding that "roses" refer to "other things." I'm eager to go back and try that fast-selling bread some time. For now, I throw my recommendation behind those others.

Photos By Alyssa Bistonath