Attack of the 30ft baguettes

(published August 2001)

Saturday in the bakery store should be a grand day. A sense of wonder and amusement and deep desire should be impressed upon every customer who walks through the door. Well, that’s my take on weekend retailing. Theatre, magic, part side-show, part freak show. See the amazing two pound bagel, gasp at the precarious choux bun pyramid, wonder at the fragile five foot bread sticks. Perhaps not everyday bread. But then Saturday is not every day.

If perceived convenience is a motivator for premium sales, then it is important to analyze what makes a food ‘convenient’. Does the customer simply want a slice of bread that fits into a kitchen appliance, or a biscuit that is warm and crisp at the ping of the microwave? Or does convenient also mean that with one deft shopping swoop the success of the meal is complete. A proud loaf that can sit alongside a bottle of wine in the center of the table. Taken as a gift to the host at a dinner party. A box of mini cakes that will silence and subdue the noisiest of children. Within bakery, we have the ability to produce a range of superb breads, cakes, biscuits and sweet things that make the weekend run smoothly for our customers.

As a child I would press my face against the glass of the dounut shop and watch as a machine pumped out a soft yellow ring of batter and dropped it into the boiling fat. Very slowly it would travel along in the oil, before a mechanical hand lifted it out and flipped the golden puffed ring into a pile of cinnamon sugar. It’s only now I realize why the machine was in the window. So kids like me would press their noses against the glass and subsequently pester our parent to buy dounuts . Just like the fairground machines that show the automation, or the other worlds hidden inside the garishly painted caravans, tempting with outrageous claims of the surprises that await. Create a retail fairground and work the crowd.

It’s no good telling customers, as they look dismayed at the lone cake on the white plastic tray, how good it will be when taken home and placed on a fine plate in the center of the table. No more than a playwright who sits on a chair talking us through their latest work, in the center of a bleak stage under bright florescent lights. This expects imagination on the part of the customer, and the weekend is ideally not a thinking time. Go to Ikea (or even Oxfam), find plates and china that suit you, and present the cakes and breads as you would at home. Have bowls of cut bread everywhere, and encourage customers to taste. Experiment with new recipes at the weekend, and use dramatic scaling weights and shapes. Put music on if you like, but just make sure every sense is bombarded. Yep, you’ll have a headache come 5pm, but you will have grabbed attention.