Tower Bakers

Tower Bakers proves that limited space is no obstacle to creating a distinct, original feel. Interesting curiosities and books - including a few withdrawn library books - start drawing you in the second you step off the footpath outside this quiet, suburban row of shops, through the door of possibly the smallest baker shop you’ve been in. Upon entering you immediately find yourself standing, ready to pay (and even tip some stray coins into the piggy bank), at the business end of the counter. The wise man standing behind says hi and gives you space to peruse the simple yet original cabinet selection of toasted sandwiches and slices for sale, and keepsakes that are not. With the clock struck 12 o’clock-National-Radio-news playing softly on the wireless behind the counter, I order a rissole & gherkin toasted sandwich, and a Coffee Supreme coffee. Plopping down in a cute, blue wooden seat at the end of the sole communal table (through the large front window I also spy a small outdoor table and stools on the pavement), I reach for a library book. A cheerful British woman standing at the counter has struck up conversation with my wife about our baby boy’s toothy smile, and, with our lunch up, assumes the role of popup waitress, passing a plate the few feet from counter to customer: “who’s having the rissole sandwich?”, she asks. “We both are”, I answer rye-ly. Just because there is no room on the small plate for anything other than the sandwich (space is at a premium), doesn’t mean that presentation can’t still be everything - pressed into the top of the sandwich, like your nana’s pressed flowers, is the ornamental garnish from the counter. As you’d expect, the bread is good - they’ve been perfecting it here for 20 years, and the rissole, cheese, gherkin and tomato makes for a balanced meal all round. The wise man, sensing our wish to just sit and read our book & newspaper for a few moments before chowing down, had previously been out back brewing us a fine cup of jo.