Early this morning I made my way to a packed bus stop on Alexander Malinov Blvd. to wait for Bus 76. And wait. And wait a little more. Though the bus stop never got less busy as I shifted from foot to foot, it seemed to me the faces around me had changed two or three times after about twenty minutes. Finally, I pulled out my "Sofia in your Pocket" guide to make plans for a day of discovery. Ninety seconds later I looked up to see the last couple of people boarding a bus at the stop. *%$#@, I thought politely, because the number of the bus was printed neither on the back nor the side, and it had pulled up way in front of the stop. Nonchalantly I sprinted to the front, saw that it was indeed (of course) 76, and made pleading gestures to the bus driver to open his door and let me in. He did! Hurrah for small victories!
Today dawned gray after the first thunderstorm (or rain of any kind, actually) we've had in the month since arriving in Sofia. The air was cooler, and somehow the atmosphere on the bus and then by the Eagle's Bridge where I got off seemed a bit smoother, softer. I took advantage of this quiet free day to have many adventures, most of which I will blog about later, for this entry is simply to describe one small stop on my route: Jovan the Dutch Baker's.
I discovered Jovan online in a Sophia Echo Restaurant Review, from California, many months ago. Last week Brett and I managed to find it, and today I returned with a camera and the knowledge that strangely flaky cinnamon rolls with no frosting are WAY better than I ever knew, especially when warmed in a toaster oven.
Jovan's is on a nondescript little alley called Angel Kruschev, and it would be easy to miss if one wasn't extremely determined to eat delicious flour-based substances. The green painted doors and beaded curtain don't exactly match most of downtown Sofia, and that makes it all the more fun. Once inside, a bevy of pastries and loaves meet the eye, some in shelves, some in baskets, most still waiting to be pulled off their vast stacked silver trays and put out for purchase. The bakery is about the size of our living room; customers seem to flow regularly in and out every minute or so, allowing each to be served with no wait time and then leave the customer area free for the next client (which is lucky, as there is hardly space for a line!).
So far we've tried soda, rosemary, and braided white bread. We've sampled the cinnamon rolls and croissants, and I've gone so far as to admire the caramel drenched fruit bread and the raisin ring. I've also laughed scornfully (inside my head, not to the friendly staff of Jovan) at the pitiful little so-called "American cookies" on the top shelf of the glass display, but luckily I have a private supplier. Perhaps Jovan would like to hire their cookies from the outside...
If I was to rate Jovan The Dutch Baker on a scale of one to five adorable little pastries, I'd give it a five. I like the slightly dicy street, the hard-to-find yet bright exterior, and the sound of the swinging beads as I point to the combinations of shapes and flavors that suit my taste desires for the day and say "Molya??!" and "Da, Merci" ("please" and "yes, thank you"). Going to Jovan's only furthers my latent desire to find work behind an oven someday...
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