In the second courtyard of the Sophienhöfe sits a bakery with a Nordic hand.
The bake is open behind the counter, the range comes out of the oven almost daily, and the room smells of slow flour from the moment you push the door. The work runs on ancient grains from small organic farms in Northern Europe, long fermentation and no rush. On the shelves: dense loaves next to dark rye and focaccia that gleams with olive oil; alongside, freshly whipped butter that gets sliced into both. The sourdough croissant is the reason the line on the cobbles outside stays patient — once you have one warm in your hand, you understand why.
