About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. At dusk, when the streetlights flickered on, a young boy passing by Tous les Jours noticed something odd. The scent of freshly baked bread seemed to come from an entirely different direction than usual—like it was wafting right out of the alleyway. Curious, he peered around the corner and saw nothing but empty shelves and closed doors. Just as he turned away, a delivery driver walked in, muttering under his breath that today’s batch must be in the wrong oven again. The boy laughed, realizing it was just another day at Tous les Jours—a bakery where even the smells sometimes take unexpected detours.
2. In the early morning hours, before anyone else stirred awake, a delivery driver pulled up to Tous les Jours. The bakery’s neon sign glowed eerily in the foggy dawn, casting long shadows across the empty streets. The delivery driver stepped out and unlocked the back of his truck, only to discover he had forgotten the key to the bakery. With a resigned sigh, he retrieved a spare set from his jacket pocket—except it was for his own apartment. As dawn broke, neighbors watched in amusement as the poor man frantically tried to unlock both doors simultaneously, eventually deciding to leave the bakery’s door ajar until help arrived.
3. At dawn, while most bakeries were still quiet, a delivery driver pulled up outside Tous les Jours. The usual scent of freshly baked bread filled the air, but mixed in was something unusual—a hint of vanilla wafting from an open window. The delivery driver looked inside curiously and saw a sleepy-looking baker stirring something golden in a huge vat. ‘What’s that?’ he asked. The baker yawned and replied, ‘Oh, just making sure our special morning croissants will be extra fluffy today.’ A neighbor passing by sniffed appreciatively and said, ‘Guess I’ll skip breakfast and come back later—can’t miss out on those!’
4. At midnight, when the streets of New York fell silent, a delivery driver pulled up outside Tous les Jours. ‘Why does their bread smell like home?’ he asked himself, noticing something familiar in the air. As he opened the door, an old neighbor emerged, wiping flour from his beard. ‘Ah,’ he said with a smile, ‘you’ve finally found our secret ingredient—love!’