I was meeting a friend for a business coffee. She suggested we meet at Mr. Holmes Bakehouse on Larkin. I walked into the office and laid down my bags.
“So, I’m meeting someone at Mr. Holmes Bakehouse.”
Coworker A’s body appeared around the wall of my cubicle.
“Have you ever had their cruffin?” she asked.
“Cruffin?” I said.
“Have you ever been there?” she asked.
Coworker B’s face appeared over the top of the wall, “I hear the cruffins are amazing.”
Coworker A continued, “Alright, here’s the deal. There are two lines. The cruffin line and the non-cruffin line. But they only make the cruffins at certain times.”
“Really?” says coworker B.
“Nine o’clock is when the first batch of cruffins come out.”
“Well, I’m meeting her at nine,” I say.
“Alright, the only thing I haven’t loved there is the sushi croissant.”
“Sushi croissant?!” Coworker B and I say together.
“I LOVE the sushi croissant!” yells Coworker C from the kitchen.
“Do you?” asks Coworker A.
(long conversation about the attributes of the sushi croissant)
So, I walked the two blocks to Mr. Holmes Bakehouse. It was a store just bigger than the double doors that opened into it, covered in white subway tiles, with a pink neon sign taking up a whole wall that said, “I got baked in San Francisco”. And there was the cruffin line drawing itself down the block. Well, what would you do if there was a line like that waiting for a mysterious pastry named the “cruffin”?.
I stood in line for the cruffin. They bake one kind a day. That day it was a cruffin with caramel custard and homemade marshmallows. It was very good. I was only in line fifteen minutes which seemed pretty reasonable considering the number of people who stopped by the line and asked how long we’ve been waiting.
I’m not a food photo-taker. In fact, I only thought of it after the cruffin was gone. “Oh, I should’ve taken a picture!” But I hadn’t, and that’s why I write things like this, because I fail to take pictures. This blog is my thousand word picture.