The Open Door

I reached into the sink, filled with hot, soapy water, and grabbed a mixing bowl. Started scrubbing it furiously. The encrusted dough wouldn’t come loose. I’d meant to wash the bowl—or at least soak it—early that morning when I’d started baking the 30 loaves of bread I made here six days a week, at my bakery just off the Vassar College campus in Poughkeepsie, New York.

But then I’d had to get going on the cookies. Clean the display glass. Put down the chairs. Set everything out. Make the coffee. And that was all before 7:00 A.M.

Clean as I go? I barely had