From Madagascar to Saigon: Our Vanilla Story (Part 14).

We travel 8,000km for the perfect vanilla bean. Discover why we refuse to compromise on this essential ingredient.

The first time we left the starter for two days, we did so by accident. There was a power cut, a fight about a wedding cake, and Khoa had taken the keys home. The dough sat under cloth, fed at midnight, fed again at noon. When we came back on Monday we were certain we had wasted three kilograms of good flour.

What we got instead was the loaf that we now bake every morning at six. A crumb that holds its breath, a crust that doesn't apologise. It taught us the thing nobody tells you in baking school — that patience isn't an ingredient, it's a kind of permission.

“The dough does its work in the dark. Our job is only to come back.”

We've since spread this across the bakery — the croissants get their bench rest, the bánh mì gets its second proof, the cakes get the night they need. Nothing leaves the kitchen in a rush.