#scratchbread

The shop held a special place for me. It reminded me of home. SCRATCHbread’s founder, Matt Tilden, would be very much at home in Portland, and so would his food -- simple, creative, served through a window, rustic, affordable, love-filled. I loved that I could order something different every time I went, with 100% confidence that I would be able to earnestly tilt my head back and proclaim a hearty MMMMMMMMM after the first, second, thirtieth bites. 

I also watched it grow up. My good friend Gelseigh volunteered her time there shortly after she moved into Bed-Stuy in 2011. She was hungry to learn and fell in love with the great people and great vibes in this kooky upstart baker-space. My first time at SCRATCHbread was to pick her up from her shift there, and I was welcomed into the kitchen to sample the day’s creations. From that day forward, I was hooked. Since then, I got the impression that SCRATCHbread was really invested not only in its food, but in its community and in its employees. I’ve learned, more than anyone from my aunt and uncle Marc & Deb, that this isn’t something that truly great businesses compromise on. 

The following spring after I moved a bit south, in Crown Heights, my best Saturdays involved a walk up to SCRATCHbread for breakfast with Benjamin, usually followed by a Dough doughnut for dessert (I’ve never been one to shy away from carbs). We would do this almost without fail whenever we had visitors. Never often enough, of course. It has always felt hard to be a regular somewhere that isn’t literally next door to your house in this city. 

I was sure to make that walk again during periodic stays on Benjamin’s couch in the three years following, and when I moved back to Brooklyn earlier this year I was pretty thrilled to be within walking distance in Clinton Hill, if only for my first month of subletting. Aside from having good roommates and a nice apartment, SCRATCHbread’s proximity was literally the apartment’s best feature. My roommates FREAKED OUT when I took them there the first time. The food really was that good. More than that, the place was special. Even in a city where strangers don’t interact much, you knew you were among friends standing in line for a cacio e pepe loaf, a spicy (?!) sticky bun, or even just the morning’s iced coffee. But let’s be honest, you weren’t going to be able to just pick up an iced coffee. I don’t even believe in that kind of self control any more. 

Moving a couple miles west coincided with an upswing in travel, and my weekend days in the past few months have focused on exploring my new neighborhood. I’m thankful to be in a great place with wonderful people and more good eats nearby. But visits to SCRATCHbread became much less frequent. I’m pretty sure I’ve only been once or twice since moving. I will harbor some guilt for not having gone more often, even if that might not be rational. But mostly I’ll just miss it -- miss the thrill of a new special, the enthusiastic recommendations of the staff, the perfectly charred vegetables, the soft eggs, every single god damn sandwich vessel they made, oh my god, seriously they were all so incredible, and reminders of Gelseigh’s time there, growing into a somehow even more talented chef than she had already been.