Jan 2007--Weczeria
Weczeria is a tiny little restaurant off Broadway in Saskatoon, one of the places I’ve been meaning to discover when I’m in town long enough to go exploring again, this time on my own turf. My interest was first piqued by the unassuming chalkboard outside that claims all the ingredients are sourced locally. Before I even eat there, I’m celebrating a restaurant that appeals to my politics if not my palate. The menu is a pleasure just to read, revealing a creative flare that is rare out on the prairie. So I book a date: once a month Weczeria hosts a special themed dinner. January features none other than our dear friend Tracey Muzzolini who is the artisan baker at Christie’s Mayfair Bakery, another gem in Saskatoon. Every Saturday, people come from all corners of the city to line up and buy one of her inventive and exquisite loaves. Weczeria in January it is.
Dan creates a stunning Italian-themed menu featuring Tracey’s breads. We chat with the table squeezed next to ours in the intimate little space and enjoy course after course, paired with various Italian wines that I’ll never remember the names of.
And then Tracey talks. Dan gives her the floor to tell the small audience about Christie’s Mayfair Bakery and how she came to be a breadmaker.
She begins her talk, awkwardly fidgeting and smoothing her hair. She is instantly charming, but not necessarily at ease. She looks at the ceiling, remembering dates and details as she relays the history of her Italian father growing up as a baker and then opening his own shop after immigrating to Canada. As her story continues, I watch her get lost in it and forget the audience. She begins with her own story, sleeping in a sleeping bag in the front of the bakery while her parents are in the back, working through the night to have fresh bread for the morning.
She talks about moving to Toronto to escape the bakery and the family business. I’ve felt how small this city can be and believe how desperately she wanted to escape. But no matter how far she traveled or where she went, she ended up in restaurants, bakeries and cafes unable to escape what she knew best. The bread. She is so relaxed now as her story evolves that I believe she can smell it: the bread. Perhaps it is a smell that never leaves her. It’s in her skin. In her hair and hands.
As she talks, her hands move, folding over one another again and again as if there is dough there. She is kneading, needing some substance between her fingers.
It’s romantic, she tells us. The making of bread. This playing with ingredients, slightly altering recipes to see what tastes and smells and textures emerge, is a sensual experience. And I believe her, because I’ve tasted the results of those experiments. And I know that what she feeds you will make you listen to your heart again.
The appetizer comes out with a semolina bread bursting with raisins. Next the bruschetta, served on a toasted bread containing flaxseeds, mustard, honey, and what was the other ingredient? A ciabatta is used for the bread soup, with thick tough crusts softened by the oil. To complement the dinner, a yellow colored sweet bread with large bits of sweet potato. Each bread swells with flavors, often simple, plain ingredients that become exotic in a unique combination. As the dinner comes near a close, we are served port with a chocolate cherry bread, so rich and unique that it’s usually reserved for festive seasons like Christmas.
The food at Weczeria is divine. And I can’t help but love a restaurant that offers up a little space to celebrate some of the amazing people and cuisine around Saskatoon. This is my new little love affair.
Dan creates a stunning Italian-themed menu featuring Tracey’s breads. We chat with the table squeezed next to ours in the intimate little space and enjoy course after course, paired with various Italian wines that I’ll never remember the names of.
And then Tracey talks. Dan gives her the floor to tell the small audience about Christie’s Mayfair Bakery and how she came to be a breadmaker.
She begins her talk, awkwardly fidgeting and smoothing her hair. She is instantly charming, but not necessarily at ease. She looks at the ceiling, remembering dates and details as she relays the history of her Italian father growing up as a baker and then opening his own shop after immigrating to Canada. As her story continues, I watch her get lost in it and forget the audience. She begins with her own story, sleeping in a sleeping bag in the front of the bakery while her parents are in the back, working through the night to have fresh bread for the morning.
She talks about moving to Toronto to escape the bakery and the family business. I’ve felt how small this city can be and believe how desperately she wanted to escape. But no matter how far she traveled or where she went, she ended up in restaurants, bakeries and cafes unable to escape what she knew best. The bread. She is so relaxed now as her story evolves that I believe she can smell it: the bread. Perhaps it is a smell that never leaves her. It’s in her skin. In her hair and hands.
As she talks, her hands move, folding over one another again and again as if there is dough there. She is kneading, needing some substance between her fingers.
It’s romantic, she tells us. The making of bread. This playing with ingredients, slightly altering recipes to see what tastes and smells and textures emerge, is a sensual experience. And I believe her, because I’ve tasted the results of those experiments. And I know that what she feeds you will make you listen to your heart again.
The appetizer comes out with a semolina bread bursting with raisins. Next the bruschetta, served on a toasted bread containing flaxseeds, mustard, honey, and what was the other ingredient? A ciabatta is used for the bread soup, with thick tough crusts softened by the oil. To complement the dinner, a yellow colored sweet bread with large bits of sweet potato. Each bread swells with flavors, often simple, plain ingredients that become exotic in a unique combination. As the dinner comes near a close, we are served port with a chocolate cherry bread, so rich and unique that it’s usually reserved for festive seasons like Christmas.
The food at Weczeria is divine. And I can’t help but love a restaurant that offers up a little space to celebrate some of the amazing people and cuisine around Saskatoon. This is my new little love affair.
