We are not a bakery.
We are not a brand.
We are not your grandmother’s dough.
We were not born from tradition - but from rebellion.
We are not artisans.
We are not entrepreneurs.

We are two men who refused to grow out of hunger.
We are the ones raised without recipes, fermented through failure.

We are Batards.

Our trays are not products, they are letters to the future, sometimes they arrive late, sometimes they fall apart, but they’re always honest.
Every loaf, every bun, every burnt corner is a decision.

We do not accelerate. We do not decorate.
We do not seek perfection, we seek tension - between soft and sharp, salt and soul.
We do not bake for likes. We bake to remember.

We believe in time.

Time that proofs, folds, resists, and surprises.
Dough that tears, heals, and grows.
We believe that human beings deserve rituals.
That food should be felt before it is consumed.
That Sunday can be holy without being religious.
We believe the future of taste (and of baking) lies in craftsmanship.
We believe in the soulful power of thoughtful hands: hand-kneaded doughs, hand-folded boxes, hand-written labels and handshake commitments.
We believe in the passionate souls who rise before the sun to work beside us.
We believe that we are only young once, but we can create rebelliously forever.
And we believe that explanation kills hunger.

We are here for those who want to chew deeper, who eat to feel, not just to fill, for those who wake up hungry - not for breakfast, but for truth, fire, and the joy of decay.

So If you're here to remember how to feel - bite in.

Welcome to Batard.

We bake with memory.

We serve without apology.