More Than Forbidden Rice: Crisp Bakery Snags Best Dessert

When Moaya Scheiman, chef and co-owner of , looks for inspiration, he doesn't mine pages of recipes from a French boulangerie. Instead he stares at the wall by his desk – where he's stapled packages of Twinkies, Ho Hos, Snowballs, and Hostess Creme Filled Cupcakes.

"We take our inspiration from our childhood," says Scheiman. At Crisp, inspiration takes the form of organic pop-tarts filled with local strawberries, Rice Krispie treats filled with swelled black 'forbidden' rice and chocolate stout bacon cupcakes (phew) made with beer from their neighbors at .

You can chock it up to nostalgia, but in just two months of business (they opened on April 1, "as the best April Fools joke," says Scheiman) Crisp Bakery is already popular enough – with over 40 percent of the vote.

"Everything at Crisp is amazing," writes Patch reader . "We are so lucky to have this new bakery."

For Scheiman and (Scheiman's partner both in business and life) the bakery is the cumulation of a life in restaurants. The pair met at a James Beard event; Koweek, then kitchen manager at brought Scheiman in to teach classes. When Koweek moved on to manage catering at girl and the fig, Scheiman worked and opened a series of restaurants in San Francisco and Napa.

But Koweek was growing tired of doing administrative work, and Scheiman, who was ostensibly retired, was itching for a new project. The pair toyed with the idea of opening a pizzaria or a tapas bar – that is, until they saw that , the one-time home of master baker Craig Ponsford, had gone out of business and the spot was available for tenants. 

"Andrea had mentioned something in passing about how frustrating it was that all the wedding coordinators in town had to go outside of Sonoma for wedding cake," Scheiman said. "It stuck with me."

Now, the bakery has 15 employees and is booked with wedding cake orders through the month of August – in addition to the vegetarian friendly lunch offerings and gluten-free pastries they churn out daily.

For the time being Scheiman and Koweek are living the grueling lives of bakers; They arrive at 4 a.m. to bake off the scones, muffins and hand pies and work 14-hour days, seven days per week.

But the romanticism of baking, according to Scheiman, makes the crazy-making pace worth it. "Often times kids come in and their physical expression of joy – it's like a little cartoon reaction," he explains.

“We’re not under those restaurant constraints of having to prove you’re the best meal in town; at a bakery you just have to make people a little bit happier," he said.