Growing up in New Jersey, you were surrounded by the ethnically diverse restaurants and bakeries that seemed to be on every corner, and the wonderful aromas that penetrated the air around you. Sunday mornings were always church first, stop by the bagel shop, and then head over to the bakery for hard rolls, crumb cake, and powdered jelly donuts.
Many times as a young boy I'd stand at the table watching Grandma Amoroso forming what seemed like a volcano, a mountain of flour with eggs in the center, as she made bread or possibly macaroni (we didn't call it pasta back then). I was always amazed that she never used a recipe; it was all in her head! A pinch of this and a dash of that, but whatever she made was bound to be good!
Then there were the times that I would spend a week at Grandpa and Grandma Hill's house. That was always a treat, because I could get away from my four sisters (ah, heaven and peace)! I would wake up to the smell of coffee brewing from the beans that my Grandfather had just ground moments before.
We all grew up with an appreciation of cooking and baking, which meant family time to us. Those memories from days gone by inspired me to create this neighborhood bakery, where all are welcome and all are family!