0:01

Welcome to bedtime Stories

0:03

for grown ups, in

0:05

which nothing much happens,

0:08

You feel good, and then

0:11

you fall asleep. I'm

0:14

Katherine Nikolay. I

0:16

write and read all the stories

0:18

you hear on Nothing Much Happens.

0:21

Audio Engineering is by Bob

0:23

Wittersheim. My

0:26

book, also called Nothing

0:29

Much Happens, is available wherever

0:31

books are sold. Thank

0:34

you for your support. Let

0:37

me say something about how to use

0:39

this podcast. I'm

0:42

about to tell you a bedtime story.

0:45

It's a simple story, without much action,

0:48

but full of relaxing detail.

0:52

The story is like a nest, and

0:55

we're enticing your fluttering mind to

0:58

settle down into it. I'll

1:01

tell our story twice, and

1:03

I'll go a bit slower the second time

1:05

through. If

1:08

you find yourself still awake at the end

1:10

of the first or second telling, don't

1:13

worry. That's

1:15

a good rule of thumb in general. When

1:17

you're trying to fall asleep, don't

1:20

worry. Relax. Take

1:24

your mind back to the beginning of the story,

1:27

and walk yourself back through the details

1:29

that you can remember, especially

1:33

any bit that felt particularly cozy.

1:38

You're training your brain and body to wind

1:40

down, and the more often you do it,

1:43

the faster you will fall asleep. So

1:47

have a bit of patience at the beginning, and

1:50

if you find yourself awake again later

1:52

in the night, use the story

1:54

again to go right back to sleep.

2:00

Story tonight is called in

2:02

the Bakery, and it's

2:04

a story about a weekend morning among bagels

2:07

and bread.

2:10

It's also about old cookbooks full

2:12

of notes, being

2:14

proud of what you do, and

2:17

a secret ingredient handed down

2:19

from baker to baker. Now

2:25

it's time to turn off the light and

2:28

put away anything you've been working on or

2:30

looking at. Take

2:33

some time to snuggle yourself down into

2:35

your preferred sleeping position. Make

2:39

all the adjustments you need to

2:41

feel your body relaxing into

2:43

your bed. We're

2:47

creating a queue for your body and

2:49

brain, and the signal

2:52

is it's time for

2:54

sleep. Now,

2:57

let's take a deep breath in through the

3:00

nose and

3:03

a soft sigh out of the mouth. Good,

3:11

do that one more time, in and

3:17

out. Good

3:26

In the Bakery. I

3:29

stood inside the front window of the shop

3:33

and looked up and down the street. For a few moments.

3:38

Morning light was cutting through the lines

3:40

of the buildings, and a few of

3:42

the storefront windows were lit up.

3:47

The neon sign in the diner

3:49

on the corner flickered and

3:52

glowed steadily on. I

3:56

knew they'd be down in a few minutes for

3:59

their order of bags, pastries,

4:01

and loaves of fresh sliced bread that

4:04

they'd soon be toasting for the day's

4:06

first customers.

4:10

I dusted off my floury fingers on

4:12

my apron and

4:14

flipped our sign from closed to open,

4:20

unlocked the heavy oak door, and

4:22

stepped back behind the counter. Our

4:27

cases were full of just baked muffins,

4:30

rolls, and loaves. Our

4:33

coffee was brewed, and

4:35

I had a hot cup poured for myself

4:38

tucked behind the register. We

4:41

were ready. Saturday

4:44

mornings were my favorite at

4:46

the bakery. During

4:49

the week customers rushed in and out,

4:53

eager to get their breakfast and their coffee

4:55

and get to work. We

4:59

had hectic rushes and stagnant

5:01

slow times, but

5:03

on the week ends, all of

5:05

us, bakers and customers

5:08

alike were more relaxed. People

5:13

lingered over coffee, turned

5:15

the pages of newspapers slowly, and

5:18

took the time to really enjoy the

5:22

jelly doughnuts and the wedges of coffee

5:24

cake that we loved to make. Each

5:26

day. The

5:29

bell over the door rang and I

5:31

looked up to see the familiar face of a

5:33

waitress from the diner, her

5:36

spring coat pulled over her apron

5:40

hands, ready to receive the tray of goods

5:42

we had wrapped up and ready in

5:46

a hurry. I asked her. No,

5:49

it's Saturday, she said, with a wave

5:51

of her hand. We've

5:53

only got a couple regulars who pour

5:55

their own coffee. Anyway, We

5:59

smiled, Well,

6:01

try this. Then I

6:04

passed her over a slice of still warm

6:06

piscati in a wax paper wrap.

6:11

I'm trying new recipes and

6:13

I need an opinion I can trust.

6:19

She took it gratefully, and I poured her

6:21

a quick cup of coffee to go with it.

6:25

It's orange and pistachio, and

6:29

you might want to dunk it, I said, sliding

6:32

the cup across the counter. I

6:35

don't trust people who don't dunk, she

6:38

observed. This

6:41

is why I'm asking your opinion, I said, tapping

6:43

my finger to my nose. She

6:47

held the slice up close to her nose

6:50

and smelled. She

6:53

looked at it all over, and I

6:55

saw her taking in the ratio of pistachio

6:58

pieces to ribbon of

7:00

orange zest.

7:03

Sometimes when I hand someone a sample

7:06

and ask them for feedback. They

7:08

gobble it down in two bites and

7:11

say it's great and

7:14

move on, which is

7:16

not very helpful. This

7:20

woman knew what she was about.

7:25

She had a bite without dunking, first,

7:29

chewed slowly, then

7:31

thoughtfully dipped it into her coffee and

7:34

took a second bite.

7:37

She looked up at me, ran

7:39

her tongue over her teeth, nodding

7:41

slowly. I

7:44

think the orange should be a bit stronger,

7:48

but the bake is right on. It's

7:51

crispy and a pleasure to dunk. But if

7:53

you want to eat it as it is, it's not going

7:56

to break your teeth like some biscatie

7:58

will. I'd

8:01

say it's a winner, pleased

8:06

down to my clogs, as any baker

8:08

is when something she makes is properly

8:10

appreciated. I

8:13

slid the coffee thermous back onto its

8:16

warmer and went to fetch

8:18

the order she'd come in for. I

8:23

handed it over to her. She thanked

8:25

me for the treat, and we said see

8:27

you tomorrow, and she headed back

8:29

to her customers. For

8:34

the next few hours we had a steady stream

8:36

of patrons. Some were

8:39

regulars whose orders we knew

8:41

by heart, and

8:43

some were new faces who stood

8:46

staring at the cases, biting their

8:48

lips and asking for recommendations.

8:54

We brewed pots and pots of coffee,

8:57

packed dozens of doughnuts into paper

8:59

boxes tied with string, handed

9:04

over plate after plate of muffins

9:06

and scones, and toasted bagels.

9:11

We handed out soft salty pretzels

9:14

wrapped in wax paper. We

9:16

sliced loaves and wrapped them up

9:18

for afternoon sandwiches. We

9:22

put pies into boxes and piped

9:25

names onto birthday cakes. We

9:28

wiped crumbs from the counter and the tables

9:31

and started to deliver the sad news

9:34

that this or that had

9:36

sold out for the day. As

9:40

the day moved on and the bell rang less

9:42

and less, I pulled

9:44

out a few of my favorite cookbooks from

9:47

the shelf in the office

9:50

and poured a fresh cup of coffee.

9:54

I sat up at the counter, where the spring

9:56

sun was shining, and flipped

9:58

through the pages of a book that was older

10:00

than I was, with pages

10:03

stained and creased and

10:05

filled with hand written notes. It

10:11

was a gift from the baker who'd first opened

10:13

this shop, who I'd bought it from

10:15

when he retired. A

10:18

kind man with a quiet voice

10:21

and flower in his eyebrows.

10:26

I remembered coming in for my daily bread

10:29

and one day taking a bite of something and

10:32

saying to him that I could always

10:35

tell his bakes from any others,

10:39

but he seemed to have a sort of signature

10:41

flavor. He'd

10:44

smiled and

10:46

leaned his elbows on the counter, and

10:50

turning his head side to side

10:53

to make sure his secret wouldn't be heard

10:55

by any one else. He

10:58

whispered, cram

11:00

flour. We'd

11:03

been friends from that day, and

11:06

I came to work for him soon after. Looking

11:11

through his book of recipes made

11:13

my stomach grumble, and I

11:16

stepped behind the counter and took a baguette

11:18

from the shelf. I

11:21

sliced off a good long bit and

11:24

slid it open. I

11:27

had a bottle of olive oil, green

11:29

and fruity, the kind that

11:32

catches you in the back of the throat, and

11:36

I drizzled it all over the bread. In

11:40

the fridge, I found some artichow carts

11:42

and a jar of capers,

11:46

and in the pantry a container of soft

11:48

sun dried tomatoes. I

11:52

layered them all over the oiled bread, cracked

11:57

black pepper on top, and

11:59

took my place back to the sunny spot

12:01

at the counter. My

12:05

bread was delicious, and

12:08

I proudly enjoyed every bite. As

12:11

I flipped through more biscotti recipes,

12:17

I took the pen from my pocket and added

12:19

a note more

12:21

orange flavor. Maybe

12:24

add marmalade.

12:28

My next plan was for hazelnut

12:30

and chocolate piscati and

12:33

something for spring strawberry

12:36

and rhubarb. I

12:39

carried my cup back to the window where

12:42

i'd stood that morning. Before flipping the

12:44

sign, I

12:46

looked up and down the street.

12:50

Saturdays were my favorite

12:57

in the bakery.

13:01

I stood inside the front window of the shop

13:04

and looked up and down the street for a few moments.

13:10

Morning light was cutting through the lines

13:12

of the buildings, and a few of

13:14

the storefront windows were lit up.

13:19

The neon sign in the diner on the

13:21

corner flickered and glowed

13:24

steadily on. I

13:28

knew they'd be down in a few minutes for

13:31

their order of bagels, pastries,

13:34

and loaves of fresh sliced bread

13:39

that they'd soon be toasting for

13:41

the day's first customers.

13:48

I dusted off my flowery fingers

13:50

on my apron and flipped

13:52

our sign from closed to

13:55

open, unlocked

13:59

the heavy oak door, and

14:01

stepped back behind the counter. Our

14:08

cases were full of just baked

14:11

muffins, rolls, and

14:13

loaves. Our

14:17

coffee was brewed, and

14:20

I had a hot cup poured from myself

14:22

tucked behind the register. We

14:27

were ready. Saturday

14:31

mornings were my favorite at the bakery.

14:36

During the week customers

14:39

rushed in and out, eager

14:42

to get their breakfast and

14:45

their coffee

14:47

and get to work. We

14:51

had hectic rushes and

14:54

stagnant slow times,

14:58

but on the weekends, all

15:01

of us, bakers and

15:03

customers alike were more relaxed.

15:11

People lingered over coffee, turned

15:15

the pages of newspapers slowly, and

15:19

took their time to really enjoy

15:22

the jelly doughnuts and wedges

15:25

of coffee cake that

15:27

we loved to make each day. The

15:33

bell over the door rang and

15:36

I looked up to see the familiar face

15:39

of a waitress from the diner, her

15:43

spring coat pulled over her

15:45

apron, hands

15:49

ready to receive the tray of goods we

15:51

had wrapped up and ready. In

15:56

a hurry, I asked her, No,

16:01

it's Saturday, she said,

16:03

with a wave of her hand.

16:07

We've only got a couple regulars who

16:10

pour their own coffee. Anyway, Well,

16:17

try this. Then I

16:21

passed her over a slice of still

16:23

warm biscotti in a wax paper

16:25

wrap. I'm

16:29

trying new recipes and

16:32

I need an opinion I can trust.

16:39

She took it gratefully, and

16:41

I poured her a quick cup of coffee to

16:44

go with it.

16:47

It's orange and pistachio,

16:51

and you might want to dunk it, I

16:53

said, sliding the cup

16:55

across the counter. And

17:00

I don't trust people who don't dunk,

17:03

she observed.

17:06

This is why I am asking your opinion,

17:09

I said, tapping my finger to my nose.

17:14

She held the slice up close to her

17:16

nose and smelled.

17:20

She looked at it all over, and

17:23

I saw her taking in the ratio of

17:25

pistachio pieces to ribbons

17:28

of orange zest.

17:32

Sometimes when I hand

17:34

someone a sample and ask them

17:36

for feedback, they

17:39

gobble it down in two bites and

17:41

say it's great,

17:45

then move on, which

17:47

is not very helpful. This

17:51

woman knew what she was about.

17:56

She had a bite without dunking. First,

18:01

chewed slowly, then

18:04

thoughtfully dipped it in her coffee and

18:06

took a second bite.

18:11

She looked up at me, ran

18:14

her tongue over her teeth, nodding

18:17

slowly. I

18:22

think the orange should be a bit

18:24

stronger, but

18:26

the bake is right on. It's

18:29

crispy and a pleasure

18:31

to dunk. But if

18:34

you want to eat it as it is, it's

18:36

not going to break your teeth like

18:38

some biscottie will. I'd

18:42

say it's a winner, pleased

18:47

down to my clogs, as any

18:49

baker is when something she makes

18:51

is properly appreciated. I

18:55

slid the coffee thermos back onto

18:57

its warmer and went to fetch

18:59

the order she'd come in for. I

19:04

handed it over to her. She thanked

19:07

me for the treat, and we said

19:09

see you tomorrow, and

19:11

she headed back to her customers.

19:17

For the next few hours we

19:19

had a steady stream of patrons.

19:24

Some were regulars whose

19:26

orders we knew by heart, and

19:30

some were new faces who

19:32

stood staring at the cases, biting

19:35

their lips and

19:37

asking for recommendations.

19:43

We brewed pots and pots of coffee,

19:47

packed dozens of doughnuts into paper

19:49

boxes tied with string, handed

19:54

over plait after plate of muffins

19:57

and scones, and toasted bagels.

20:03

We handed out soft salty pretzels

20:06

wrapped in wax paper. We

20:10

sliced loaves and wrapped them up

20:12

for afternoon sandwiches. We

20:17

put pies into boxes and

20:20

piped names onto birthday cakes.

20:25

We wiped crumbs from the counter and

20:27

the tables, and started

20:29

to deliver the sad news that

20:32

this or that had

20:34

sold out for the day. As

20:39

the day moved on and the bell

20:41

rang less and less, I

20:44

pulled out a few of my favorite cook

20:46

books from the shelf in

20:49

the office and

20:51

poured a fresh cup of coffee.

20:56

I set up at the counter where

20:58

the spring sun was shining, and

21:01

flipped through the pages of a book that

21:03

was older than I was, with

21:07

pages stained and creased and

21:10

filled with hand written notes. It

21:15

was a gift from the baker who'd

21:17

first opened the shop, who

21:21

I'd bought it from when he retired, A

21:26

kind man with a quiet voice

21:29

and flower in his eyebrows. I

21:34

remembered coming in for my daily bread

21:39

and one day, taking a bite of something

21:42

and saying to him that

21:44

I could always tell his bakes

21:47

from any others, that

21:51

he seemed to have a sort of

21:54

signature flavor. He'd

21:58

smiled and leaned

22:01

his elbows on the counter and

22:05

turning his head side to

22:07

side to make sure

22:09

his secret wouldn't be heard by any one

22:11

else. He

22:14

whispered graham

22:16

flower. We'd

22:22

been friends from that day, and

22:26

I came to work for him soon after.

22:33

Looking through his book of recipes made

22:36

my stomach crumble when

22:39

I stepped behind the counter and

22:42

took a baguette from the shelf. I

22:48

sliced off a good long bit and

22:51

slid it open. I

22:56

had a bottle of olive oil, green

22:59

and fruity, the

23:01

kind that catches you in the back of the throat,

23:04

and I drizzled it all over the bread.

23:10

In the fridge, I found

23:12

some artichoke carts

23:15

and a jar of capers,

23:17

and in the pantry a container

23:20

of soft sun dried tomatoes.

23:24

I layered them all over the oiled bread,

23:28

cracked black pepper on top, and

23:30

took my plate back to the sunny spot

23:33

at the counter. My

23:38

bread was delicious,

23:42

and I proudly enjoyed every bite.

23:47

As I flipped through more biscotty

23:49

recipes, I

23:55

took the pen from my pocket and

23:59

added a note

24:02

more orange flavor. Maybe

24:06

add marmalade.

24:11

My next plan was for hazel nut and

24:13

chocolate piscati and

24:16

something for spring strawberry

24:19

and rhubarb. I

24:24

carried my cup back to the window

24:26

where I had stood that morning. Before flipping

24:28

the sign, I

24:32

looked up and down the street.

24:38

Saturdays were my favorite

24:44

sweet dreams.