Episode 1: 4 AM Dough and Fragrant Coffee Steam

The air at 4 a.m. was always steeped in cool, blue silence. It was a time when all the noise of the city had subsided into a deep sleep, and only the old street lamp at the entrance of the alley cast a dull orange circle on the wet asphalt. A warm yellow light was the first to turn on beyond the lattice window of ‘Moonlight Oven,’ a small bakery quietly located on the corner of a hill. As she pushed open the glass door and entered the kitchen, Jane was greeted by the faint scent of natural yeast that gently passed her nose, the smell of well-dried flour dust, and the cool energy of the countertop that had stayed cold all night.

Pastry chef Jane wore a dark brown linen apron and tied the straps tightly at the back. She skillfully twisted her flowing brown hair up, pinned it in place, and wore a stiff white sanitary hat. Her movements were completely effortless. After washing her hands thoroughly and wiping them with a dry towel, Jane stood in front of the thick oak countertop. Today was the beginning of the first journey of baking fragrant mocha bread that would wake up the alley people from their tiring mornings.

“The morning air is so clear today. It’s the perfect day to knead dough.” Jane spoke to herself in a friendly voice, as if trying not to wake up the quiet silence of the dawn. She scooped up organic bread flour from a large paper bag and poured it into a brass strainer. Square, square, square. As I lightly shook my wrist holding the sieve from side to side in a steady rhythm, dazzling white flour snow fell into the ceramic mixing bowl. The sound of oxygen seeping through fine particles without any lumps made me feel peaceful every time I heard it.

It was then. In the middle of the hill of flour piled up in the corner of the mixing bowl, white powder splashed like a fountain with a popping sound. “Hitch! Hitch! Your constitution has been so intense since this morning, Jane!” The one who appeared with her silver wings flapping was ‘Lulu’, a flour fairy the size of an adult’s thumb. Lulu, covered in white flour, wiped her nose with her small hand and made a pouty expression.

“Oh my, Lulu. I thought you were still sleeping, but are you awake already?” “How can I sleep with this sound ringing in my ears? Besides, today is the day to bake mocha bread! If I don’t monitor the moisture content of the dough, who will?” Lulu placed her hands on her hips and gave a straight shot, followed by a languid yawning sound coming from between the cracks in the cabinet door under the countertop.

“Ugh… Lulu, you’ve been nagging me a lot since morning. I was having a sweet dream after a long time.” The butter fairy ‘Pongi’, with a body as smooth and plump as a lump of yellow butter, waddled and crawled onto the kitchen counter. Above Pongi’s head, the fragrant scent of unsalted butter was rising like a haze.

“Pong, you were dozing off next to the butter box again, right? What are you going to do if your body melts?” “Why does the bread melt? I haven’t even turned on the oven yet! Jane, can you put in a little more butter today? With enough butter, the inside of the bread will be as soft as a cloud and melt in your mouth!” As Pong clung to the hem of Jane's apron with bright eyes, Jane smiled.

“Pong, you have a point, but the real life of mocha bread is the balance between the light yet chewy inside and the crispy biscuit crust on top. If there is too much butter, the bread becomes greasy and heavy, making it uncomfortable to eat as the first meal in the morning.” “Look, I’m right! Fong said you only think about fat every day!” When Lulu stuck out her tongue, Fong pouted his lips and puffed out his cheeks.

“Hmph, I just said that because I wanted to deepen the flavor, but in a vulgar way…” “Okay, cute fairies. Let’s stop fighting. Now is the time to awaken the heart of the mocha bread, so will you please focus?” The eyes of the two fairies twinkled at Jane's words. The process of extracting the rich espresso, the soul of mocha bread, was the most magical moment in the kitchen. Jane filled the heavy portafilter with coffee beans that had been freshly roasted the day before using a grinder. After leveling and pressing firmly with a heavy tamper, I attached it to the espresso machine and lowered the lever. Chi-Ik-

The pressure inside the machine built up, and soon a thick, mahogany-colored espresso liquid fell into a transparent glass shot glass like two golden threads. Hot coffee steam rose over the thick golden crema, and the fragrant aroma of roasted nuts and dark chocolate covered the entire small kitchen. It was a moment when the cold air of dawn was instantly tinged with languid and warm warmth.

“Wow… Ha, this smell! Whenever I smell it, my whole body seems to melt.” Pong held his cheeks and floated around the rising coffee steam. “Jane, did you set the extraction time correctly? If you go longer than 25 seconds, the bitter taste mixes in and masks the subtle sweetness of the bread inside!” Lulu continued to nag as she looked at the scale filling up the shot glass with a stern expression.

“Don’t worry, Lulu. I finished it at exactly 24 seconds. It’s the best shot with concentrated flavor and heavy body.” Jane mixed freshly extracted espresso with room temperature water and set the temperature to 33 degrees. The microscopic bacteria in fresh yeast die when the temperature exceeds 40 degrees, so the temperature always had to be strict. A circular crater was created in the center of the sieved bread flour, and fragrant coffee liquid, natural apple sourdough, organic brown sugar, and sea salt were poured into it.

“Now, the actual hand kneading begins.” Jane spread her fingers into a claw shape and mixed them in a circular motion from the inside of the flour towards the coffee liquid. The white powder and the dark coffee water mixed together, and the clicking sound of chuck, chuck, resounded in the kitchen.

“Jane, the last large bakery factory didn’t do anything like this at all, did they?” Pong sat in the corner of the counter and asked, resting his chin. “Yes, all you had to do there was defrost the frozen dough that was delivered by truck every morning, or pour the mix into a huge kneader and press a button. It was easy and didn’t hurt your wrists.”

“But why did you leave that comfortable place and open a small bakery?” Lulu folded her silver wings and asked as Fong sat down next to her. "It was comfortable, but... the bread didn't breathe. I couldn't feel how much water the flour held with my fingertips. I felt sick after eating bread that had been crushed by a machine and raised with additives. Moreover, I couldn't see the expressions on the faces of the people who ate my bread. A young man returning from a night shift, a mother holding her child's hand on the way to school... I wanted to bake bread that would give them real strength."

“That’s right, the gluten grain torn by the machine blade screams!” Lulu nodded, deeply sympathizing with Jane's words. “Yes. I wanted to convey my body temperature and sincerity through a loaf of bread. Even though my wrists are sore, I am happiest right now.” Jane put her entire weight on her palms and pushed out the dough vigorously. Fold it in half and hit it on the countertop again! and struck it down. bang! bang! bang! The rhythmic sound of tapping the silence of dawn filled the kitchen. Beads of sweat formed on Jane's forehead, but her eyes shone like morning stars.

“Wow… the dough is soft and shiny like a baby’s cheek!” Pong exclaimed and clapped his hands. The rough lumps of flour and coffee were being transformed into a smooth, light brown dough under Jane's careful hands. When I stretched the dough slightly, a thin and transparent gluten film was formed that did not tear and was transparent enough to show my fingerprints.

“What do you think, Lulu? Is this enough to pass the Windows test?” “It’s perfect! The gluten network is so dense that it holds the yeast’s breath tightly. 120 points out of 100!” Lulu gave a thumbs up and smiled brightly. “Okay, now let’s put him to sleep in a warm cradle.” Jane put the smooth, round dough into a large ceramic bowl and covered it comfortably with a cotton cloth soaked in warm water and wrung out. It was then pushed into a cypress wood fermentation chamber where constant humidity and temperature were maintained. In the dark, the dough would rise slowly, making the pleasant breathing sound of the yeast.

The hands of the wall clock showed 4:50 in the morning. It was still dark outside, but inside the moonlight oven kitchen, the lingering scent of freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of flour, and Jane's pure love for bread were spreading like a lamp. “Jane, today’s coffee beans are a mix of Colombian Supremo and Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, right?” Pong flew to Jane’s ear and whispered. A pungent, fragrant scent emanated from the coffee bean-shaped hat placed on Fong’s head.

“Yes, Pong, you are right. We blended Colombian coffee beans, which give a heavy and deep chocolate scent, with Yirgacheffe, which has a bright floral scent and a citrus-like acidity, in a ratio of 7 to 3. That way, the deep and elegant coffee scent that you will not get tired of throughout the baking process spreads all the way to the end of the alley.” Jane gently stirred the crema of the freshly brewed double shot espresso with a spoon. Dense, dark red coffee essence flowed beneath the thick layer of golden-amber crema.

“Wait, bread dough. Today I will breathe into you the most fragrant breath of life in the world.” Lulu sat on the flour sack, rubbing her cute hands and bursting into laughter. The cold silence of the kitchen at dawn was melting warmly with the clear whispers of fairies and the scent of coffee. There were never easy times before Jane opened this small bakery, ‘Moonlight Oven.’ It was an arduous training period that began with cleaning floors and kneading dough for a full seven years in traditional bakeries in France and Germany. Every night, her wrists were sore and she went to sleep with a patch on, but the dream that filled her heart was not the fancy bread of a large franchise.

'A bakery at the corner of an alley, where someone who is tired and lonely can bite into a piece of freshly baked bread on their way to work in the morning and gain strength to face the day again.' Did that simple and warm sincerity bring about a miracle? On the first night while repairing an old wood-fired oven, Lulu, the wood-fired fairy, and Pong, the coffee bean fairy, who had been sleeping in a deep brick crevice inside the oven, woke up. The two fairies responded to Jane's pure passion and warm heart and became the bakery's secret, reliable guardians. Jane carefully wrapped the dough ball. The subtle heartbeat of the dough passing through the palm of your hand.

It was the purest and most sacred pulse of this city, beginning a new day.