Opposing camps

What do you get when you put a cook with a baker? One Fifty Ate.

By Joan Lang

One Fifty Ate Bakeshop, 158 Benjamin W. Pickett St., South Portland, (207) 799-8998. Hours are currently 6:30 AM to about 2:30 P.M., but they’re thinking of keeping later hours for coffee and dessert, especially this summer when the outside deck will be open.

BREAD BABIES: to Reid, baking is like nurturing living things.

As with so many things, the world of food tends to be divided into two camps: those who bake, and those who cook. Fortunately for us, Allison Reid and Josh Potoki of One Fifty Ate Bakeshop do both. The two met in North Carolina after bumping around in various restaurant jobs (Allison had already worked for several years in the kitchen at Street and Company), and discovered a mutual interest in baking. She taught him what she knew; they kept in touch, and eventually ended up here; and by then Josh had learned enough about baking to start teaching Allison. It’s like that with collaborations.

Both are earnest, down-to-earth sorts, clogs dusted with flour and bodies ironically thin — must be all that heat in the kitchen. But ask Allison about baking bread and her natural gregariousness turns downright, well, spiritual.

“Bread is one of those things everyone knows about,” she says, her hands forming loaves in the air as she looks for the right words. “Everyone loves it and feels comfort from it. Since biblical times, bread has been something that people have shared.”

She and Josh had tossed around vague ideas about opening their own neighborhood bakeshop, until one day this summer he happened to be riding his bike past a little building near SMTC with a For Rent sign on it — the former site, as it turned out, of the late, lamented but ultimately suicidally overpriced Piccolo Pomodoro. Supportive friends said a few magic words (“bagel” being chief among them), they made some field trips to pick up second-hand equipment, and they were serendipitous business owners.

One Fifty Ate (named for its address at 158 Pickett Street) opened in the beginning of January. When my husband — who can smell baked goods from up to five miles away — came home from his morning dog-walks raving about the bagels from this “new little place” in South Portland, I knew I had better get over there right away.

I am happy to report that they are wonderful bagels: chewy yet light, charmingly handformed-looking, topped with delirious amounts of sesame seeds or poppyseeds or pretzel salt — unless it’s a day when one of them feels like making Asiago, or caramelized onion, or jalapeno cheddar bagels. And One Fifty Ate is everything you’d want in a little neighborhood cafe: comfy couches, a cozy gas fireplace, coffee from Coffee by Design, lots of magazines lying around, and satisfying things to eat.

The secret to those great bagels is using natural starters instead of yeast as leavening (which makes the dough uncommonly airy and light), then cooking them by traditional means: boiling the rings to form a kind of seal, then baking them in the oven to create a crispy surface.

The breads are delicious, too — good old varieties like White Potato and Oatmeal Molasses. Unlike, say, Standard Baking or Sophia’s, One Fifty Ate specializes in American rather than European-style baked goods. And that also means big oversized muffins and cookies, perfect brownies, scones and coffee cakes, and whoopie pies.

As for the cooking part, Josh and Allison are clearly fond of soup; on any given day, you might find kielbasa and bean or Brunswick stew or curried chick pea. There are also seriously delicious sandwiches, like smoked turkey with dilled havarti, and ham with horseradish cheddar, all on those great breads. “It’s all about the bread,” says Allison.

ýight behind the snug little dining room is the kitchen/bakeshop, with its behemoth black deck ovens and vintage industrial mixer — so historic it actually has gears, but it will probably outlive us all. Breads in various stages of production sit on every available horizontal surface. Laying hands on one of the unbaked Honey Wheat Berry loaves, risen and waiting for their turn in the oven, brings to mind something as smooth and flawless as Cindy Crawford’s behind (or so I imagine). “They’re like babies,” coos Allison. “You really feel as if you’re nurturing a living thing.”

Many of the recipes come from relatives and friends and relatives of friends. The pimento cheese spread — that most Platonic of Southern hostess specialties — comes from Allison’s grandmother, who lived in the Piedmont region of North Carolina. Others are experiments — these two clearly want to have fun in their jobs. That’s the inspiration behind ideas like Nutter Butter cookies and focaccia with thinly shaved slices of purple heirloom potatoes. Josh even tried a batch of bialys for my New York-born husband, who had been mooning about that particular void in the marketplace.

And they make their own dog biscuits. Hey . . . maybe it wasn’t my husband who found the place, after all.

Joan Lang can be reached at joanmlang@aol.com.