Northstar Bread Co. began the way most bakeries do: with someone who couldn't stop baking. Mara built her starter in a fourth-floor apartment, fed it through three moves and one very cold winter, and eventually ran out of neighbors to give loaves to. Her brother Ike had the storefront, a used deck oven, and no idea what he was signing up for.
We mix by hand, ferment slowly, and shape everything on the same worn wooden bench. Our flour is stone-milled within the state, our butter comes from a creamery two hours south, and the jam on the toast plate is made in the back on Monday when the shop is closed.
"We'd rather sell out by noon than bake something we wouldn't bring to our own table."
The bread is the reason we're here, but the corner is the reason we stay. Regulars know which stool wobbles, which dog gets a crust at the door, and that if the sourdough is gone, the focaccia is worth the pivot. Come early, bring a tote, say hello.