I Swear I'll Stop Writing About Georgian Food After This Post: Brick Oven Bread

I know you're all probably tired of hearing about Georgian food by now, but wandering along Brighton Beach a few weeks ago, my friends and I came across "Brick Oven Bread," a Georgian bakery on a residential block, just east of Coney island Avenue.

Photo courtesy of Robyn Lee

Completely and utterly full from a long day of butter and cream-filled Russian treats, we decided to simply note the location before vowing to return as soon as humanly possible. Unfortunately, Thanksgiving and preparation for a trial got in the way, but I was finally able to return with my friend Lizzie and two colleagues of hers visiting from London.

As we walked inside, Lizzie's friends started asking about Georgia and Georgian food. "That's where Stalin was from," I said, summing up about 50% of my Georgian knowledge.

"Stalin?" He replied. "He was a bit of a tinker, wasn't he?"

Take what you will from that, but a "tinker" was described to me as a "cheeky fellow."

Georgian Bread (or, How I Made Everyone Love Me at the Super Bowl Party)

While I've tried two of the established Georgian restaurants in Brooklyn (Pirosmani and Tbilisi), the omission of Georgian Bread, a tiny bakery on Neptune Avenue in Brighton Beach serving khachapouri, haunted me. Yes, I'm at that point in my life where I'm haunted by places I need to eat at...

A video shot in the bakery posted on Chowhound convinced me that I could wait no longer. I invited my friend Liz, who at this point may think I only talk her because she speaks fluent Georgian, to come along. We also met up with Robyn and Alex for lunch before the Super Bowl. Robyn also took all the wonderful pictures below.

I anticipated the bakery would be small, but you don't get a feel for the size of the place until ten people are crammed into the tiny counter area. The old baker runs the store with his assistant. In between placing loaves in the tandoori oven, the baker takes peoples orders and gives change with cracked, flour covered hands. There's a small refrigerator case with dips (according to liz these are called pkhali) and a shelf with various condiments.