My quest to make bread has stopped and started over the years, the breadmaker yielding passable but not entirely satisfactory results (poor crust, too dense a loaf) before being consigned to collect dust. My hand-made attempts resulted in loaves fit for medieval warfare, but not, sadly, for eating. This persistent failure caused me to seek salvation in a bread-making course and thus led to my discovery of the Cinnamon Square Bakery in Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire.

It is located just off the main retail area of this Hertfordshire town in a small Grade II listed unit (although they’re soon to expand into the adjoining unit). The bakery, is decorated in warm “cinnamon and cocoa” tones and makes imaginative use of the quirky and quaint premises, consists of three parts; the bakery counter at the front, the “Makery” at the rear (where the classes and children’s parties take place) and seating areas on the ground and 1st floor, where one can “eat in”.

This is a proper bakery where all the baked goods are made on the premises. The fact that I even reference this is depressing, but we are now so conditioned to our food being produced far away from the point of consumption or purchase, that perversely this novelty becomes something worth highlighting and more importantly, supporting.

It is immediately obvious that the owners Tricia and Paul Barker are obsessed, in the most healthy and wonderfully positive sense of the word, with bread and baking. Entering the shop (which will cause taller patrons to stoop) one is overwhelmed by the delicious and timeless smell of baking and, once the senses have had time to adjust, one is able to appreciate the artful and delicious displays of buns, tarts, pastries and hand-made chocolates. They also offer the aforementioned bread making courses, kids baking parties (surely better than the tired old entertainer?) and special occasion cakes, made to order.

But Cinnamon Square aren’t simply there to offer you great baked goods, it is not a simple and soulless retailer-customer relationship. They want you to know about how they make their bread, want you to be involved. The digital and graphic displays advise the literate and interested customers of the different lengths of time each loaf proves for, the resulting strength of flavour and lots of other interesting information besides. Ultimately of course, the proof is in the taste but if we’re paying higher prices for quality, artisan produce then the producer should be willing and proud to explain why genuine excellence costs the consumer more.

We go there almost every Saturday to buy their Sourdough, of which they do a few varieties (wheatflour, wheatflour and rye and San Francisco style). We normally buy the wheatflour (white) or the San Francisco, which is a stronger more, sour flavour. The crust of either is thick and crisp, with the sourdough having a wonderfully dense and chewy texture, whilst the San Francisco a lighter one. The sour flavour, which is as good to smell as it is to taste, makes eating the bread alone with just a smearing of butter or olive oil a heavenly, dare I say religious, experience. They bake lots of varieties of bread; bloomers, wholemeal, baguettes, ciabatta, traditional farmhouse as well as many others.

They are also justifiably famous for their speciality bun, the “Cinammon Square”. These are delicious, square-shaped sweet buns, rolled with cinnamon filling and covered with a cream cheese topping. The sweet, chewy dough is imbued with the warm spiciness of cinnamon, whilst the gooey, cream cheese is good enough to eat alone. Therefore my ritual Saturday “bread run” is also something of a glutton’s trial, as each Saturday whilst waiting to order I have to stare mournfully at the buns, with their gleaming white topping glistening at me, and walk away with nothing but the limited and unsatisfactory consolation of self-discipline.

So the Cinnamon Square bakery is a genuine food hero of mine. Not miracle workers though, unfortunately, as even after participating in a five-hour bread-making course, I proved (no pun intended) myself to be the only one (of six) who couldn’t produce a decent loaf. But that is no problem, I’m happy to let the experts continue making it for me.