My Story

Baking has long been my quiet discipline, learned through training, deepened by experience, and guided always by the belief that good things take time. Bread must rest, pastry must chill, flavours must develop. In much the same way, I wanted to create a place where people could step briefly out of the quickened pace of modern life and rediscover the pleasure of an unhurried afternoon.

 

Moss Cottage has stood for more than four centuries, its walls gently holding the stories of those who have passed through before us. There is a steadiness to an old house that cannot be manufactured, only cared for, and the library seems to gather that feeling more than any other room. Lined with books and quietly removed from the world beyond its windows, it offers a natural stillness, as though it has been waiting patiently for conversation, for laughter, for the soft sound of teacups returning to their saucers.

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I receive just one party each day, allowing the rhythm of preparation to remain thoughtful and personal. Each bake is made by hand in my kitchen, not hurried, not delegated, but given the attention that proper afternoon tea deserves. There is satisfaction in knowing that what arrives at the table has been carefully considered from the first measure of flour to the final arrangement of the stand.

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When the weather turns and the colder months draw in, the wood stove is lit and the room settles into an enveloping warmth. Firelight has a way of encouraging people to linger, to speak more openly, to forget the clock.

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Whether you come to celebrate something meaningful, to reconnect with someone dear, or simply to grant yourself a few restorative hours, I hope that you feel gently held here. That you leave not only well fed, but quietly replenished, carrying with you the calm that an old house, a warm room, and thoughtfully made food can still provide.

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