Now, six years later, Patisserie 46 is deeply rooted in the psyche of Kingfield with a connection as solid as the brown bricks the bakery is made of. Residents and business owners know John and his team, and they’ve learned the rhythms of Patisserie 46. They recognize the smiling face handing them scones. They know which chair in the back has the squeaky leg, and that at 7:30 a.m., they’ll most likely run into John’s two boys (Tristan, 12, and Rorie, 8), scarfing down a baguette or tart before their dad takes them to school.
When strolling through Kingfield on the way to Patisserie 46, or “P46” as the regulars call it, you may smell the freshly baked baguettes and flaky almond croissants wafting from the ovens to the tree-lined sidewalks outside. The brown awning above the bakery’s entrance is stamped with a large, burnt orange “46,” welcoming all those in need of community, an escape, or maybe just a buttery blueberry muffin and a strong Americano to start the day off right. For these are the things a neighborhood bakery should provide, John says.
During late spring and summer, moms camped out with their strollers feel the light breeze coming off nearby Lake Harriet as they chat over quiche Lorraine and toasted tartine at wrought iron tables on the sidewalk. Inside, everything about the rustic, rectangular 3,300-square-foot space, which hosts up to 700 customers a day, radiates warmth, from the sunshine-splattered, saffron-tinted walls to the fireplace crackling at the far end. Glowing pendant lights hang from historic tin ceilings (original to the 1912 building), casting a soft light over the simple chalkboard menus and loaf-filled shelves of homey pain de champagne and sourdoughs behind the counter.
Every morning, dozens of orange paper sacks filled with to-go orders fly from behind the counter to business-suited professionals lined up at the pastry case. At small square tables, gray-haired men hunker down with the morning paper and steamy café au lait. At lunchtime, the bakery buzzes with old friends catching up over the soup du jour and shoppers grabbing a panini after a stop for goods at the hardware store next door. Parents on carpool duty usher in groups of backpack-clad children to pick out a treat after school. “For me, a good place for a bakery is always somewhere where there’s lots of children and no real specific demographic, a mix of people,” John says. “Pastries should be for everybody.”
