When I was growing up in northern Manitoba, temperatures would dip to minus 40 to 50 Fahrenheit. It was bitterly cold; even the moisture from my breath froze on my cheeks as I walked to school in the early morning. But it was never cold enough to mask the wonderful aroma of freshly baked bread that came from the only bakery in our small town. I would slow down and inhale deeply before reluctantly moving on. Fast forward several decades, bakeries are still one of my favourite places. I slow down but I don’t move on until I first walk in..