The red awning that reads in huge letters, “FORT WASHINGTON BAKERY AND DELI,” is a sight I, and other residents of “Hudson Heights,” know all too well. I take a deep breath and take in the scents of freshly baked Mexican pastries, Mexican sandwiches, traditional Mexican food and New York deli sandwiches, a scent I have known since before I could walk. Simultaneously, the sounds of bustling crowds yelling in both Spanish and English fills my ears. The bakery is a small getaway back to the familiarity of my parent’s home country, Mexico.
This bakery to me is the heart of my community. While the neighborhood is called “Hudson Heights,” I rarely use that phrase; in fact, I detest it. Hudson Heights spans from 173 Street to the top of Fort Tryon Park. However, Hudson Heights is a gravely gentrified neighborhood inside of Washington Heights, which spans from 155th Street to Dyckman Street. Realtors gave this section of the Heights a new name to attract non-Hispanic populations in order to separate them from the Heights’ Hispanic population and reputation.
But it’s Washington Heights.
I am part of the 70% of Hispanics living in the Heights, but in Hudson Heights, I am part of the 43%. Yet at the Fort Washington Bakery and Deli, I am another Mexican in an establishment of all Mexican workers, and it feels like home.
My parents have now lived in the United States for longer than they lived in Mexico. Hispanic cultures rely heavily on community relationships, and my father, Enrique Chávez, adores “talking to the family of bakers that make the bread and run the shop.” Our neighborhood in general serves as a connection to Mexico. When my parents walk along bustling 181st Street as well as other busy thoroughfares such as Dyckman, my dad says they “Cannot but feel as if we are back in the hectic downtown of our native city of ciudad Juárez, in México.”
My mother, Sonia Chávez, feels similarly to my father: “For me, the Mexican food and baked goods make me feel at home, bring back memories of growing up in Mexico and it is very comforting. Also, it gave us the opportunity for you and your sister to have these foods and flavors in your life growing up.” She went on to say: “I think the bakery is a big part of the neighborhood because several cultures come together. Certainly a big part of the Dominican and Mexican population buys food there.”
The food is a key part of my life. I shout the order across the counter, “Una torta de milanesa de pollo con todo, menos queso y cebolla por favor,” weekly. Occasionally, I come home from school to see a crumpled brown paper bag sitting on the dining table. Immediately I know the contents are either a concha, a classic Mexican pastry of sweet bread with sugar on top, or what I call “lunitas”, a cinnamon half-moon shaped cookie. The sweet scents of cinnamon and concha bread lingers, and my dining room is transformed into a bakery in the heart of Mexico.
Silvia Serrano is one of the owners of the bakery and deli. There is a safe and welcoming atmosphere, probably because the business is entirely family run: “Él es mi hijo, él es mi esposo, y él es mi sobrino” she says as she points around the room. Delighted to answer any questions, she began by explaining the history of the establishment. Silvia’s family first worked under the original owners: “no somos panaderos de tradición, nosotros aprendimos aquí.” In September 2003, the Serrano family took over and “Tratamos de incluir un poco de nuestro toque personal con una receta de concha de familia, y tratamos de incluir unas cosas como las tortas, las cemitas, las quesadillas.”
Silvia does not consider the store an all-around Mexican bakery and deli “Pero si incluimos algunas cosas.” However, she believes that the Mexican aspects attract customers: “Mucha gente cuando se enteraron que vendimos algunas cosas Mexicanas, empezaron a venir, o sea que la gente preguntaba, ‘Dónde es eso?’” For example, Three Kings Day attracts many Hispanic customers because of the traditional cake of the rosca de reyes: “Las roscas nunca las habían hecho aquí.” Word spread as neighbors told each other, “Pues allá en el bakery hacen las roscas.” Silvia says because of this they now make the traditional treat every year.
It is important for the family to share their culture in this predominantly white section of the Heights. There is a clear pride of their culture in the store: “Para nosotros es orgullo,” she says, especially when introducing the neighborhood to lesser known Mexican delights: “pero las roscas del rey, se las ponemos aquí y las de otras culturas que no son Hispanos o no son Mexicanos vienen acá y preguntan, ‘y qué es eso?’ Y les tengo que explicar que eso se celebra en México.”
The bakery and deli is a place not only to embrace new cultures, but also to learn about them authentically.
Second to the importance of sharing her culture, Silvia says that customer relationships are “importante por supuesto” as the customers become part of her and her part of the customers. Unlike a large business where “no saben quien es la manager, aquí todos platicamos.” She adds how customers look out for her: “No te ven un día y te preguntan, ‘porque no viniste ayer?’” Our conversation ended with Silvia pointing out how I am one of the longest returning customers, “tú has venido desde que eras una bebé,” she said, smiling.
My neighbor, Isabel Fernandez, is a half-Spanish longtime lover of the Fort Washington Bakery and Deli. Like Silvia, Isabel cherishes the welcomingess of the staff: “They’re actually friends with people in the neighborhood and know people’s orders; I think that’s a really special trait about our neighborhood.”
She described her first memory of the bakery: “I went with my mom and she is very into speaking Spanish; she’s not Spanish or Hispanic, but she speaks it very well.” Isabel remembered “that at no point did anyone ever give her a look. I think it was appreciated.” That day, after eating her first torta, she decided they were her “favorite thing in the world.”
As Hudson Heights becomes more gentrified original businesses like this one are important, especially to Isabel: “In a place like Washington Heights but more specifically Hudson Heights where it can feel a little isolated and a little bit, to be fair, gentrified, I think having a neighborhood like that it’s nice to have those little spots that make it feel more authentic.” She commented that our specific area is a “very nice part of Washington Heights” but is not accurate: “181st Street, down there, is very, very Hispanic; it’s the definition of Hispanic. I think it’s a good way to integrate those different cultures.”
The community’s love of this bakery and deli showed throughout the ongoing pandemic that closed so many small businesses; I sighed in relief when conchas and other pastries sold out during the past year and a half, despite my disappointment because it meant business was still alive. I grin everyday at the sight of people packed inside the shop getting breakfast. All my life I have repeated the same joke to my parents: “The bakery cannot ever close; I won’t survive.”
In the words of my mother: “This is Mexico away from Mexico.”
