The bakery that opens at six.
A small unmarked door behind the post office. The line forms by quarter past. Croissants come out at six-fourteen, sourdough at half past. Bring cash and a basket — they sell out fast.
Read more →A short list, kept short on purpose.
A small unmarked door behind the post office. The line forms by quarter past. Croissants come out at six-fourteen, sourdough at half past. Bring cash and a basket — they sell out fast.
Read more →Three hours along the cliff path if you take it slow. Two if the wind is up. Take water, take a windbreaker, take your time. The peninsula does the rest.
Read more →A wooden shack at the back of the harbour, a chalkboard for prices, a galvanised bucket for ice. Cash only. Closed Tuesdays. The shucker's name is Andries.
Read more →They come in low across the bay every evening from October to March. Sit on the rocks west of the slipway. Don't film it. Just watch.
Read more →Eleven bottles, all from within an hour of the house. The bartender knows each grower by their first name. The other one matters less.
Read more →Linen, fish, two kinds of honey, hand-thrown ceramics. Get there before nine if you can. Coffee from the trailer in the corner. Stay until you've spoken to someone.
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