This bakery, which may or may not be Armenian (we can't quite recall), is only open in the mornings, so we were lucky to end up there one day at the correct time. (We really only ever ended up places -- aside from the hospital, where we arrived quite on purpose.) You can see the tandoor in the back. The baker rolls a ball of dough, then stretches it out a bit and puts it on a little pillow, grabs the pillow by the underside and quickly inserts his hand into the oven, slapping the pillow against the side so that the dough sticks, then removing his hand, all in a fast motion so fluid and easy you'd never realize that he would probably burn his hand off if he did it any slower. He invited us back to see the ovens and to take a picture. Isaiah, as you can see, is not taking his eyes off the prize. (And he was right not to -- it was delicious.)
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