What is it about an open fire that draws people towards it and makes it okay to share a moment with a stranger?
It's a drawcard that celebrity chef Al Brown knew would work when he took over space at the City Works Depot for his Best Ugly Bagels bakery and cafe. It's by Brown's outdoor fire that I'm standing, in the early morning chill, savouring every mouthful of a freshly toasted sesame bagel, butter dripping down my chin. Suddenly I'm sharing childhood memories with a workman as the city slowly rumbles to life, watched over by a still-glowing Sky Tower.
Nothing like a good fire, we agree. The fire reminds him of growing up in a little, two-bedroomed house in Hobsonville, the man says as he sips coffee and stares at the flames. Scrim on the walls, freezing in the winter, until Dad got up and lit the fire to warm the kids.
Hobsonville's changed a bit now, eh, he remarks.
An hour earlier, executive baker Angelo Munro has coaxed the giant fire-fired bagel oven to life. It's 2.4m deep and built by stonemasons Brown brought over from Montreal, the Canadian capital of bagels. Brown sent Munro to Montreal for six weeks to learn the art of bagel making - starting with the fire.
Munro builds a series of kindling tepees, topped off with cardboard egg trays - easy to come by in a bakery that goes through 180 free-range eggs a day. Using a long hardwood paddle, he pokes and feeds the fire with manuka and matai, dashes outside to stoke up the outdoor fire and back inside to oversee the unloading of 20-kilo bags of flour from a delivery van.
Assistant chef Ray Robles has already mixed the first batch of dough and is slicing it into long strips. His hands never stop moving, rolling the strips and twisting lengths into round, raw bagels - the first of between 2000 and 3000 made every day.
Munro tips the first batch into a steam kettle of boiling, honeyed water for a 20-second dip, fishes them out, dips them in sesame seeds and lines them up on two of the wooden paddles. Then it's into the oven for 25 minutes, Munro moving them around to ensure a crisp crust and a soft, chewy inside. It's an art form, a mixture of baking rules, judgement and intuition.
The bagels are all handmade so they're never going to be factory perfect, hence the name of the business. Brown heard the term "best ugly" during a trip to China. It means favourite but less than pretty.
It's 6.45am, more staff arrive and the music goes on. Lou Reed croons his way through Walk on the Wild Side, lots of "doo do doo do doo do dos" while the bagels are baking.
Stuart Robertson, Brown's general manager, pops in from his office next door to ask Munro if it's okay to use ordinary sugar rather than caster sugar in an orange, yoghurt and sultana cake he's making? It's Robertson's turn to bake morning tea for the weekly business meeting. Ordinary sugar will do just fine, Munro assures him, still moving at high speed.
It oozes good vibes this place. Regulars and newbies who wander in get the same treatment, a big welcome and lots of smiles. And the thrill of hearing their order shouted.
"Can I have a T.A.B (tomato, avocado, basil and lemon fennel olive oil)? " a regular asks.
"One T.A.B !" shouts Munro.
"One T.A.B!" the staff shout back.
I'm waiting for someone to order the Best Ugly X Action Bronson - curried egg smash, rocket-fuel sauce with salt-and-vinegar potato chip dukkah - so I can hear that shouted in unison.
No-one really needs to shout. The order goes through on a computerised system attached to the till. But it's all part of the show - the energy of the staff, the bagels being rolled and baked in front of you, the stacks of firewood. Where else would you find that in the inner-city?
Best Ugly Bagels, City Works Depot, 90 Wellesley St.
Open 7 days, 7-am-3pm.
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