AT THE TABLE WITH ANNA HIGHAM

In Anna’s book, The Last Bite, she writes of dessert, “First and foremost, make it delicious. Your goal is to make even those who ‘don’t do desserts’ lick their plate clean”.

When we asked her earlier that afternoon if she had to convert a non-dessert person, what would she serve from the menu at her neighbourhood bakery Quince, she proposed a soft, caramelly brown butter bun or a hearty bowl of rice pudding – one of the most-made recipes from her cookbook. So much so, she now sells it by the tub.

“Every week, someone buys it for the first time, and then comes back the next week and says, ‘Can I get two?’ People seem to get addicted, even those who think they don’t like rice pudding,” she tells us.

We probably didn’t need to ask. Anna could make just about anything and they’d be completely wooed – heart, soul, and stomach.

She served us slices of almond cake with a dollop of cream and a teaspoon of the leftover sticky-sweet Cara Cara glaze. All carefully set on quince-coloured ceramic plates, made by her friend Sam Luntley.

There’s a common theme here, we noticed. The plates. The little yellow quince illustration on her apron. Even her phone case was the same happy hue. In the corner of the bakery, there were crates of quince. Stacks upon stacks of them. “These are from Jamie Oliver. He has a quince tree in his garden, so recently dropped these over for us,” she mentions, pointing to one of the crates. “We have locals dropping them by all the time, which is so kind".

Anna’s cooking has become synonymous with fruit, leading her to land on a ‘fruity’ name for her Islington-based bakery.

“I’ve always had a thing for quinces,” she joked. She described them as having an old-fashioned Britishness, which felt befitting, given the bakery’s focus on celebrating British produce and baking traditions.

“There’s a joyfulness in how we create community... I want this to be a space where people feel happy and welcomed when they walk in.”

After a career spent working in some of the world’s best restaurants, from Gramercy Tavern in New York, Lyle’s, Flor and the River Café in London, she founded Quince in February 2024.

Quince has only grown in popularity since opening, but it’s never lost its neighbourhood charm. It’s the kind of place where the team knows their customers by name, and the feeling is mutual. “There’s a joyfulness in how we create community,” Anna explained. “I want this to be a space where people feel happy and welcomed when they walk in.”

It was a Monday afternoon when we met, while the bakery was closed. When Anna opened the door, the smell of almonds drifted out to meet us, soft and sweet. Inside, a few autumn leaves followed us onto the welcome mat. Beyond the windows, North London traffic thrummed. But here, there was a calm, a kind of quiet that felt rare.

The wooden shelves lined with handcrafted cordials, chutneys, jams and jellies add to the character and homeliness of the bakery (think Greengage Jam, Seville Orange Marmalade and Damson Jelly), with watercolour pieces painted by her grandma hanging proudly on the wall. “The Strawberry and Vanilla Cordial is probably my favourite,” says Anna. It was made with Provençal Gariguettes earlier this summer.

After taking us through the recipe, we chatted about the story behind Quince, the joys of British baking, funny Google reviews, and what it really means to be anchored in a community.

Tell us about the recipe you’ve chosen today. What inspired it, and how did you decide on the ingredients?

This cake is a gentle way of experiencing aromatic Green Citrus. The grassiness of The new season olive oil blends with the aromatic quality of the citrus, and the almond and ricotta provide a nice calming base. It’s a really comforting, squidgy, delicious cake, but you get those intense little pops of the candied peel.

Quince opened its doors in Islington in February 2024. How did it feel opening your own bakery?

Absolutely terrifying. I think I slept for about an hour the night before. Those last couple of weeks you’re just desperate to open, but everything slows right down. The very first mix of bread that I did was for opening day, which was terrifying. We didn’t finish until about 11pm the night before, and I came back at about 1:30am.

But it’s been wonderful. Really wonderful. I wanted to create a space that anchored me in this neighbourhood, and it really has.

Every ingredient we use, we know it’s been farmed the best it can be, the best quality it can be. Even though we’re giving people a sweet treat, I want them to think, “The butter is the best butter. The flour is the best flour. The fruit is the best fruit.”

Quince has become known as a neighbourhood gem. How do you cultivate that sense of warmth and community?

Very intentionally. The three pillars of the business are joy, nourishment, and community. From the beginning, I said, if people come in more than once, we know their name, we ask their name. We have a really funny Google review that says, “Service is a bit slow, but everyone’s just having a nice chat,” which is true in a way.

Some of our customers come and have staff lunch with us. We donate bakes to the garden around the corner for their community days and fairs. If anyone nearby asks for something, I give it. It’s important to be part of the neighbourhood. The menu changes each week, and people will ask for something again – I keep an ear out to hear those conversations.

London can feel like an anonymous city. I’ve lived here nearly 15 years, and I’ve had times where I’ve felt really grounded, bumping into people I know on the street, and times where I haven’t. I’m always trying to get back to that. Now I live across the street; it’s so nice to feel anchored in a place.

Quince celebrates British baking. What are some of the bakes that best capture that?

I love that we make scones every week. One sweet, one savoury, and people really love them. We have some real die-hard addicts. They’re a really fun vehicle; we see what fruit and veg we can use. We’ve done things like strawberry and marzipan, apple crumble, red cabbage and bacon. They’re simple but really show off their ingredients, from the quality of the butter and flour to the fruit and vegetables. Everything has to be particularly tasty for them to be as good as they can be.

If you had to convert someone who says they don’t like dessert, what would you serve them?

I’d probably get them to eat the brown butter bun. It’s deceptively simple. A sweet bun with a knob of brown butter in the middle and a layer of brown butter craquelin over the top. It’s so much more than the sum of its parts – caramelly, salty, sweet, soft.

Also, the rice pudding. It’s in my book, and we sell it in tubs. Every week someone buys it for the first time, and then comes back the next week and says, “Can I get two?” People seem to get addicted, even those who think they don’t like rice pudding.

What do you hope people feel when they taste something you’ve made?

I want them to eat it and immediately go, “That’s delicious.” My favourite thing in restaurants is when you see desserts go down and people do that little shoulder dance. You haven’t meant to do it, it just happens.

I also want them to feel nourished and cared for. Not in a “you should eat your bran flakes” way, but like someone has considered every part of what they’ve made so that you can have this little moment.

How central is seasonality to the way you bake and eat?

Crucial. Every single week the menu changes. We have a base structure: Two buns, a sweet scone, a savoury scone, a sweet pie, a savoury pie, a cake, a tart, a quiche. Then, we just plug and play with what vegetables and fruit we have. The flavours shift with the seasons.

We’re in year two, week 36, and no menu has been the same. Things repeat, but never exactly. It’s so nice now, revisiting things and hearing people say, “Can you do that again?”

I feel like the farmers are doing the hard work of making it incredible. I just have to guide it into someone’s mouth. I don’t want to manipulate something to make it taste like something else. I just want to make it taste the most of itself, and you can’t do that unless you have the best, peak-season produce.

What’s inspiring you right now?

It’s quince season. That’s a big inspiration. It’s quince season and Strictly season. I’ve not managed to get a sequin bun on quite yet. The shop looks wonderful at the moment, with crates of fruit piling up everywhere – pumpkins and all that. It feels really magical.

Can you recall a dessert you’ll never forget?

There’s one at 40 Maltby Street. A chestnut meringue with cream. It was just incredible. I think about it a lot. Every time I try to make anything chestnut, I think of that.

When you’re not baking, what brings you joy?

On Sundays, my partner and I spend the day together. I’m always off, and we generally go to Bake Street in Lower Clapton. It’s our little treat every Sunday. It’s always really delicious, and a nice kind of respite.