Bittner's Bakery

It was a simple request. "A box of Triscuits for Nannie." But what an upheaval of emotions it created inside of me. Even before I moved to Germany, I wasn't good at finding crackers. You'd think they'd be near the chips, or perhaps cereal, but they always seem to be hidden, in an obscure middle aisle, expiration dates slipping by since no one can ever find them. But how could I refuse, on my grandparent's 60th wedding anniverary, to buy them a box of crackers?

I started making my way through the store that felt bigger than King Ludvig's castle. I nearly teared up when I spotted school-boy cookies that were a favorite of mine in Germany. The card aisle was a bright spot because the world of greeting cards was opened for me once again, in a language I could read. But I don't even like greeting cards. The despair settled in as I found myself in the "bakery." I say bakery, only because that's what they called it. A case full of doughnuts and some rubbery looking croissants doesn't really cut it. I perused the bread options with dismay- pre-sliced loaves nearly suffocating in their plastic wrappings. I discovered my mother in the deli and in my dismay I told her I couldn't find the crackers. She sent me to the car to recover while she and my cousins finished the shopping.

It felt kind of like that Garth Brooks song, "Wish I didn't know now (what I didn't know then)." For a moment, I wished I'd never sunk my teeth into a warm, buttery croissant, never tasted the delights of a sandwich made with a salty pretzel roll, and never known the smell of fresh rosemary bread, drizzled in melty butter. Was it worth the pain, the withdrawal, knowing I might never taste them again?! My cousins soon joined me in the car, pulling me back to reality and out of my misery. Unbelievably, they'd found the requested Triscuits.

We had one more stop to make before returning to the lake house where the rest of the family was gathered to celebrate Nannie and Granddad's anniversary. We needed to pick up the cake. I was too depressed to recognize that this errand might be the redemption of my first trying trip to the American grocery store. We pulled up to Bittner's Bakery and were immediately greeted by a heavenly smell. The smell of hope. My spirits rose as the little bell clanged with the opening of the door and we were greeted by rosie-faced Ruby who welcomed us to Bittner's. At once, I felt at ease, amongst the glass cases displaying braided breads and fruit-filled tarts. The smiley faced cookies seemed to share my joy and relief that there was a bakery out there that could live up to the name bakery. A place that would sanction an afternoon meal of 'Kaffee und Kuchen' with honor and respect.

Mom picked up the cake, and perhaps sensing my dampened spirits, offered to treat each of us to a pastry. My brave cousin, Kiley, ordered a maple bacon doughnut. Though I'm sure it wouldn't be approved of in a German bakery, it clearly needed to be investigated. I happily ordered a croissant, drizzled in chocolate. My old standby. The moment of truth came in the car, with the anniversary cake balancing precariously on my lap. I carefully removed the croissant from the bag, and breathed in deeply. The chocolate smelled promising. But when I bit into it, instead of delicate, buttery flakes, I found crunchy dough. There was too much chocolate, and it had been tragically overcooked. Bittner's, too, had disappointed me. I saved the rest of the croissant for Jordan, mostly so he could commiserate.

Pre-taste 

Later, after I'd had some time to recover, I asked Kiley about the maple bacon doughnut. Her eyes widened as she shared with me the surprising discovery that, "It was actually really good!" And that's when I realized that maybe it was okay that Bittner's Bakery could only make a mediocre croissant. Because apparently they made amazing maple bacon doughnuts. Truth be told, Germany's chocolate croissants are rather unimpressive compared to the ones in France. Once, we drove twenty minutes to France, just to buy a chocolate croissant because they were so superior there. Well, France is no longer twenty minutes away. But Bittner's Bakery is. Perhaps this is a season for letting go of chocolate croissants, and embracing maple bacon doughnuts. And someday, when I return to Kandern, I'll drive twenty minutes to France for a chocolate croissant...and I'll probably be wishing they made maple bacon doughnuts.

This picture was stolen from google images...I didn't have the foresight to photograph the maple bacon doughnut in the moment.