Vol. 2, No.7, July 2005
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Loafing Around
Atlantic City's World-Class Bread
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like the smell of fresh-baked bread. As the aroma wafted over me, I wanted to take up residence on that sidewalk just basking in that heavenly scent. Needless to say, I could have found the bakery without the directions. Just follow the smell.
The Atlantic City area is reputed to have some of the best Italian bread anywhere. Some credit the water. Others say it's the unique recipe. Either way, I found myself standing outside Aversa's Bakery in Brigantine one sunny morning, staring at its Spumoni-colored awning and wanting to bottle that smell of just-baked bread.
The scent just got stronger as I walked through the retail storefront to the back room and confronted the warmth of the ovens. Long loaves of dough stood in precise formation on trays, stacked and ready to go. Bakers draped in white aprons alternately slid bread into the huge ovens or pulled out the golden loaves.
Owner Ralph Aversa is a bundle of energy. He never stops. He told the story of the bakery as he deep-fried something that could have been chicken parmesan. (Aversa sells not only bread, but European-style pastries, cookies and luncheon delicacies.)
"I've done this all my life," he said as he dropped another breaded patty into the boiling oil. "In Italy, I used to work after school at the bakery. I used to cut bread; they sold it back then by the kilo."
In 1960, Aversa emigrated from Italy to the states. "I got a job at Cacia's Bakery in South Philly. I worked there for 12 years and ended up marrying into the family." He and his wife, Maria, opened the first Aversa's Bakery in Turnersvile, N.J., in 1982. In a small building of about 1,700 square feet, they began baking bread—with a new recipe.
"My mother-in-law's bread was old-fashioned," said Aversa, "with a very heavy body and crust. That wasn't what the new generation wanted. We made it softer. We used the same flour that macaroni is made from, which is yellow. People think we put eggs in the bread, but it's just the flour. And there are no preservatives."
The flour, according to Aversa, helps keep the bread soft without preservatives for a little longer. The bakery distributes throughout South Jersey to chain supermarkets and the casinos.
Aversa opened the location in Brigantine in 1992, just two years after his beloved Maria passed away. Today, the company's Turnersville location has expanded to 17,000 square feet with an additional 3,000 in the works. The company boasts 35 employees between the two locations, including Aversa's children, Anthony, Jennifer and Ralph, Jr.
But the dough continues to be made in Turnersville, where, Aversa claims, there is the best water. "The killer for bread is water with chlorine or sulfur," he said. "That's the worst for live yeast."
Frank Formica, third-generation owner and operator of Formica's Bakery in the Ducktown area of Atlantic City, uses another local water source. "It's the naturally softest, cleanest-tasting water in the world," he said. "By pure luck when Dr. Jonathan Pitney discovered Atlantic City, he tapped into the Cohansic Aquifer under the Pine Barrens Preserve. It's a huge basin of water under untouched forest. The cedar trees indigenous to the Pine Barrens keep the water slightly acidic so it's impossible for dissolved solids to stay in the water." According to Formica, "You can use more flour as a result."
The bags of flour were stacked neatly above where, he explained, his grandmother once entertained guests eating her famous cookies in the kitchen. Formica's goes through 500 hundred-pound bags a week to make between 15,000 and 30,000 loaves daily. They supply to more than 200 accounts from the casinos to supermarkets, small groceries, and the famous White House Sub Shop.
"There are no preservatives in the bread so they are made and consumed the same day," he said. "We have a 30-mile direct delivery radius from Barnegat and Sea Isle up to Hammonton. It's hard to beat our service. We're out there four, five, six times a day with fresh bread."
"There is also an extended market that's starting to blossom," he acknowledged, "from Cherry Hill to Philadelphia and Delaware. That bread is enhanced with some natural preservatives so it has a little more staying power."
The bread itself is a recipe that's been around for 2,000 years, he said. "Flour, salt, yeast and water, that's it. It takes about three and a half or four hours to go from mixer to oven, depending on the humidity. It's not timed. We check it by feel."
I watched as mixers the size of washtubs stirred the dough. Nearby a baker worked with another massive mound as a machine rhythmically popped out grapefruit-size balls of dough that were then rolled into long loaves.
"Bakers used to have forearms the size of Popeye," said Formica. "Today, the machines do the kneading and the rolling."
The loaves, left to rise, were less than half the size of the ones coming out of the oven. Formica grabbed one and cut it open to display the bubbles. "This is where the flavor comes from," he explained. "The yeast gives it the same taste as in brewed beer."
"But let me show you something," he said. "You can't do this with most bread." He brought his hand down hard on the loaf, smashing it flat. Within seconds, the bread had risen back to its original form. "That means, as my grandfather used to say, ‘that bread has body!'
Frank Formica's grandfather, Francesco Formica, was the one who started the business. Emigrating from Italy to the states in 1902, Francesco worked for 10 years on the railroad to save up enough for a building and to send for his wife, Rosa. Together they opened a grocery, and in 1916, his brother Santo joined them and they opened a bakery. Within three years, Santo left the business.
In 1928, Francesco moved the bakery to 2310 Arctic Avenue, building a state-of-the-art brick oven that would be kept burning continuously for 60 years. The family lived in the residence just above. That oven also heated their water.
The business prospered and was even Depression-proof. Since the coal oven had to be kept burning anyway, Rosa invited neighborhood women to bake their dough there for a penny a loaf. Then during the war, when Atlantic City became a stop-over for soldiers, sandwiches became the preferred fare and business took off.
Frank's father, Mario, and his uncles Frank and Dominic ("Tar") took over the business after the war, running it as Formica Brothers Bakery. Young Frank would join them in 1986, and actually buy the family business, after a stint on his own at a small bakery downtown.
Today, the brothers have since retired from the business and Frank's father passed away four years ago. That leaves Frank Formica at the helm. "There were two employees when I bought the place and now there are 38," he said. "I've put a few hundred thousand dollars into upgrading the facility. Previously it was 100 percent by hand."
The bakery has diversified into some products other than bread, including cannolis, biscotti and tomato pies, but that's a small percentage of their business, according to Formica. "This summer, we're going to introduce artisan bread," he revealed. That, he predicts, will be a hot new product in this market.
While Formica and Aversa's both have retail shops where customers can buy those products, just down the street, A. Rando Italian Bakery is strictly wholesale. However, you can still get bread right out of the oven "at no extra charge," said Office Manager Stephen Rando. "Just come around back."
I walked down that alley, again following that amazing scent, past the sign that read "Baked Fresh on the Premises for Four Generations." Stephen Rando traced the history for me.
"The business was started in 1909 by my grandfather, Anthony Rando," he explained. "He was a baker in Italy, although there, they made those large loaves. When he came here, he started this bakery. This is our third location, and where we're sitting now, the office, used to be the front of a retail bakery."
Stephen's father Nicholas and Uncle Salvatore inherited the business and subsequently passed it on to the next generation: Stephen, JoAnn, Anthony, Sr., Donna and Nicholas, Jr. Stephen is a full-time Atlantic City police officer when he's not at the bakery, and Nicholas is a full-time Atlantic City fireman.
It's a hard-working family, with the first shift coming in around 3:30 a.m. Stephen starts around 7 a.m. Walk-up customers can visit the bakery for fresh hot bread from 4:30 a.m. to about 12:30 p.m. each day. The staff is there until 4 p.m. and bread can be sold until they leave.
"We get a lot of regulars," explained Stephen, "who come in after church on Sundays and at other times. But 85 percent to 90 percent of our business is selling sub rolls wholesale." The bakery also makes dinner rolls, seeded twists, Kaiser rolls and restaurant table bread. Baked goods are distributed as far as Hammonton and Sea Isle.
"My grandfather made it the old-fashioned way, by hand," acknowledged Stephen Rando. "Now we use machines, plus an Atlantic City bread base. There are no preservatives."
The bread is delicious, as were the loaves I tasted at Aversa's and Formica's. Varying slighting in feel, crispiness and body, they were all consumed without anything on them—a full-sized, wonderfully warm loaf in a single sitting.
You can count carbs if you like, but I'm inclined to indulge. After all, it's an Atlantic City tradition.
