The ovens go on at four.
Garden Grove is still asleep. Vy and two bakers mix the dough, fold it, rest it and shape more than six hundred baguettes by hand.
The 4 AM shift
The first batch comes out.
You hear it before you see it: the crust crackling as it cools on the rack. The smell reaches the parking lot. Another batch follows every two hours until close.
Then the coffee.
Dark-roast beans from a family roaster in Santa Ana, ground every morning and dripped slowly onto condensed milk. It takes about four minutes a glass. We haven’t found a faster way that tastes as good.
Doors open at six.
The regulars are already outside: nurses coming off the night shift, contractors on the way to a job, grandparents buying ten bánh mì for the whole family.
