It is at least 5 years later and I can still remember my first visit to Lumberto’s Bakery. Stopping in to see if anyone could redirect or help us relocate the turn we had currently missed, my friend Allef and I received a large dose of culture shock. It seemed as if we had opened a door to generations past; a place where people came and left but time didn’t. In this particular place, it seemed that time stood still. My friend’s mom, Ms Decker, actually owns and manages that restaurant in the middle of the town of boson. Ms Decker has stayed in business at that location since 1989.
The place came off as well taken care of. It is not for the lack of care: in fact Ms Decker had pride in the fact that she kept her restaurant that way. She has often been heard to say, with the strongest boston accent Ive ever heard,” It doesn’t matter how messy sometimes gets it can always be fixed with a good wash. She is very proud to say her restaurant received 5 stars out of 5. Its not the most glamorous place. The handful of buzzed loners, engineers, and stockbrokers who have really beat the hard ware in. Chunks are missing from the carpet at the favorite table of workers.
The paint on the walls has cracks and the only good smell in that place is the smell from the chocolate chip cookies. The regular customer would be forgiven if he mistook the fact that the place was financially in trouble. Instead, what we discovered that night was a big pot of social encounters with the best information available. When going into the door at Lumberto’s, two things are immediately noticeable: the place is rarely empty and seems to consist of a jungle of rooms. The second room, though the first door is the main door at the restaurant.
There is another, also rarely used, the side room for pastries. It was added during the 90s when there was an economic boom or something. Through the side room there is yet another room; it blocks the door leading to the kitchen. This room contains the most prized possession in the place. The famous table where only family bestowed there bums to. It was the family table; it was primarily reserved for Deckers. All of the activity at Ms deckers is conduced in the ora at Lumberto’s, likely to make your mouth start to watering.
The smell is never the same; it depends entirely on what is baking at that exact moment . Whether it be the vanilla almond cookies, a cake someone asked Mr decker to hand make, the texture on the apple pie, or the ever present odor of the fudge brownies, it is a well documented fact; it is one amazing aroma. The best thing about being involved with Lumberto’s is not there baked goods, however; it is the felling of being apart of an extended family, being a part of something meaningful, when that is hard to come by.
