Her name is on the lease, but not on the sign. You’ll find Melissa Pryor behind the counter most mornings at Fire & Flour Bakery on 15th Street, a few blocks east of Peoria, pressing dough with the heel of her hand and answering the same questions she’s been answering since she opened the place in 2019. What’s the best thing here? Everything with the sourdough. Why does it taste different from grocery store sourdough? Because it’s not the same thing at all.
Pryor spent eleven years in commercial kitchens before she decided she wanted to bake bread for a living and didn’t want anyone telling her how to do it. She talks about her starter — which she’s kept alive through two moves and a pandemic — the way other people talk about a family member. Feeds it twice a day. Refers to it by name. The starter is the reason the levain loaves coming out of her deck oven have that particular depth to them, the kind of sour that sits low rather than bites sharp.
Walk in on a Tuesday and you’ll likely catch her mid-conversation with whoever’s first in line, explaining why the sesame-crusted loaf is different from last week’s. That’s not a performance. That’s just how she operates. The shop is small — a handful of tables, a glass case, a chalkboard listing what’s left — and it fills up by 8:30 on weekends. If you want a whole loaf to take home, the honest advice is to pre-order online the night before. She sells out. Every time.
The pastry case gets less press than the bread but probably deserves more. The kouign-amann is the thing to get if you’ve never had one and also if you have. It’s laminated dough with sugar caramelized into the layers, and Pryor’s version pulls apart in a way that makes you understand why people drive across town for it. There’s usually a seasonal tart, rotating every week or two depending on what she’s finding at the Brookside market. Late spring, that means strawberry with a bit of black pepper in the cream. Fall runs toward apple with cardamom.
Coffee comes from a local roaster and the espresso drinks are competent without being the point. This is a bread bakery first. The cappuccino is good; the pain de campagne is the reason you came.
Prices are honest. A whole sourdough loaf runs around fourteen dollars. Pastries are three to six. The kouign-amann is worth every cent of the five-fifty and you may eat it in the parking lot before you reach your car, which is a documented phenomenon at this location.
Pryor doesn’t do a lot of social media. She doesn’t run specials designed to go viral. What she does is show up at 4 a.m., bake until she runs out, and sell bread to people who know enough to get there early. If you stop in and ask her what she recommends, she’ll tell you straight. She’ll also tell you if something’s not quite right that day, which is the mark of someone who cares more about the bread than the sale.
Fire & Flour is open Wednesday through Sunday, roughly 7 a.m. until sold out. Park on the street or in the small lot behind the building. Go once and you’ll probably start budgeting the pre-order into your weekly routine.
