When Anna Higham decided to open her first bakery a few doors down from our office back in February, we were delighted to have one of the UK’s most exciting pastry chefs on our doorstep.
We were equally thrilled when she chose one of our Readywear aprons to unify her team’s uniform. Since opening in February 2024, Quince, nestled in the heart of Canonbury, has quickly become a neighbourhood institution, where regulars rub shoulders with food heroes such as Nigel Slater, who pops in every Saturday for an oat cookie.
We caught up with the author and alumni of River Cafe, Flor and Lyle’s to talk about the thinking behind her new venture and why she has no intention of becoming the next Dusty Knuckle.
Hi Anna. How’s it been going since Quince opened in February?
We wanted to cement ourselves into the neighbourhood and get to know lots of our regular customers. And I can really feel that neighbourhood connection has happened.
Did you have a connection to the area before opening?
Not really. It was just somewhere I thought, “I’d like to live in Islington when I’m an adult!” When I started thinking about a bakery, I came to look at sites on Essex Road. I noticed there were a butcher, a fishmonger, a cheesemonger and lots of independent food shops. I thought, this is clearly a good area for small, independent food businesses. It’s also really residential. I wanted to be a neighbourhood spot, I’m not really interested in being a destination bakery.
You studied architecture. What made you switch to food?
I’ve always cooked and baked. I had to take a year out of university, and during that time, I worked in a deli and bakery. I was initially front of house, but I asked if I could learn to make the cakes or bread, and I loved it. It felt wonderful. Architecture never felt that way to me.
Was there a specific moment you realised baking was the right path?
I went to my course’s third-year architecture degree show, and I was talking with tutors about returning for my second year. I was like, “I absolutely do not want to do this”. I found baking much more immediate, creative and satisfying. In architecture, there’s an obsession with detail, like how a window sits in a building, which is crucial but not exciting for me.
Baking seems detail-oriented too. It’s one of those things where if you get a measurement wrong, it just doesn’t work, unlike cooking where you can improvise more.
With all cooking, if you make your favourite pasta dish, you know the markers you’re looking for along the way. Baking feels more daunting for people because they don’t practice it as much. But the principles are still about feel, sight, smell and touch. Though I’ve made a lot of terrible things to get there! Even here, we just had a week of mistakes. It’s frustrating, but we learn, figure it out and make it better.
What makes Quince different from other bakeries?
We don’t make any viennoiserie – no croissants, pains au chocolat or anything like that. The creative drive behind the bakery is inspired by traditional British baking. Our menu centers around buns, scones and pies. We make things like a treacle tart inspired by barmbracks, which is an Irish tea cake. It’s all very seasonal and we have close, reciprocal relationships with our suppliers. Each week, we write a new menu based on what’s available, always with a British and Irish lens.
It sounds nostalgic, like childhood favourites. Do you put a modern twist on it, or keep it traditional?
We draw on tradition, but it’s always influenced by my own experience. I spent two years at the River Café, so there’s a bit of Italian influence, and I worked in the States, so there’s an American influence too. It’s very personal, a reflection of my career and team. One of my senior bakers, Fiona, is Irish, as is one of our front-of-house staff, so there’s a strong Irish influence, like last week’s colcannon pie. It’s really good.
You’re also offering supper clubs and other experiences. What can customers expect?
Right now, we’ve teamed up with our wine supplier to run a pop-up wine bar on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights, where they pour from their portfolio and we serve a bit of food. Next year, I’d love to host book events for authors of cookbooks. This past summer, we held a tart party with other bakers I admire. They were all women and I was like, “You should all know each other. We should do an event where we all get to hang out. You all love fruit. You all love pastry. You should be friends!”
Is that the idea behind these events – community building?
Yes, very much. It’s inspiring for me as well. I can’t get out to see other bakeries as much as I used to, so inviting people in has been exciting. It’s a great position to be in as a mentor to my team, bringing in people we respect for them to learn from.
Why do you think independent bakeries are so popular?
For many, it’s a small, affordable luxury. There’s something about being part of a community. My favourite thing is when regular customers chat in the queue. It’s magic. In a big city like London, where you can often feel anonymous, bakeries are a community anchor. You might not be best friends with the staff, but you’re known.
Did you feel daunted opening your own bakery?
Absolutely terrified. I still am, quite often. But I have good friends who own bakeries across the country, and they’re all very successful – not just financially, but also community-wise and personally. So I knew it was a model that could work, and I know how to make good food.
It’s not your first rodeo!
True, but it’s incredibly vulnerable – like when I published my cookbook. You’re putting yourself out there for judgment, and it’s scary. But there have been magical moments too. Like when I’m in the kitchen with Fiona and the team, and we’re just working and chatting, getting to make delicious things. And then I can hear our front-of-house guys having these gorgeous chats with customers who are excited about what they’re buying and sharing what they loved last week. And I’m just like, “I built this.”
That must feel amazing. Is that what excites you most about running your own place compared to prestigious kitchens?
Yes, I’d spent about 15 years working for other people, so it’s refreshing to be dynamic in decision-making. I get to decide what’s good, what’s “Quince,” and where we’re going next. At places like the River Café, there’s a huge legacy, with customers and staff that have been part of it for decades. That weight impacts creative decisions, which can be both wonderful and limiting. So this has been incredibly freeing. Last week one of our bakers said they’d like to make a prune scone, so I said “OK, we’ll make a prune scone next week then.”
What did your experiences at places like the River Café teach you?
So much. To be part of something’s history feels wonderful. I hope Quince will be open for 40 years, and I want this business to have a legacy too. One amazing aspect of the River Cafe is all the chefs who have come through and the huge influence they’ve had; it’s been a real training ground for so many. I’d love Quince to be that as well – a place where people learn to cook and develop a passion for ingredients.
Working at Lyles for five years and at Flor taught me about having a singular vision, focusing on everything being so British, micro-seasonal and respectful of our food heritage. Those experiences were hugely important.
Just last week, we had a sandwich with chickpeas cooked and pureed in olive oil, blanched kale, and grated Parmesan. A chickpea and kale sandwich might not sound that delicious, but it was incredibly tasty. I was discussing with the team why it was so good. The River Cafe taught me how to cook greens. I never worked in a savoury kitchen, always in pastry, but being there helped me understand the nuances. For instance, cooking spinach isn’t just about blanching; it’s about letting it cook in well-seasoned water, then draining it and adding lots of good olive oil. It’s just the best thing ever.
Why the name Quince?
For a lot of reasons. It’s my favourite fruit, and to me it embodies a sense of British food heritage – something slightly old-fashioned and individual, like each fruit is uniquely shaped. Quinces feel very feminine to me, too, and they’re so perfumed and inviting. Right now, the bakery smells incredible in the mornings with crates of quince around – it just encapsulates everything I want the bakery to be. I want it to be a very hospitable space, somewhere that feels warm and welcoming.
How do provenance and traceability add to the Quince experience?
The goal is for everything we stock to either come from people we know personally or from suppliers who have direct relationships with those who make or grow the products. Probably 70% of the produce we use, I’ve either met the person doing it, I know the person growing it. It’s not just like transactional relationships. It’s a real kind of reciprocity. When you support good farming, for example, sometimes the yield isn’t going to be what you expected but it’s your duty to still use it and make the best of it. If I want farmers to farm well, I have to support the times when it doesn’t work out as well.
How do you communicate that story to customers?
We share a lot online and credit suppliers on our weekly menu posts. Being a neighbourhood spot helps, too; our front-of-house team is great at naturally communicating these stories. I’m a bit wary of it being evangelical. No one wants to get preached at when they come in for a bun, but if people are curious, we’re really happy to share.
You change the menu every week. What inspires that creativity?
We have a structured menu – a couple of buns, scones, pies, a tart, cake, cookies, sandwiches, and a galette – which gives a good base. Inspiration comes from seasonality, availability and our team’s ideas. I also love cookbooks and seeing what other bakers are doing, then making it our own at Quince.
When you chose uniforms, what qualities were you looking for?
Initially, we had handmade aprons which were cotton and really nice, but the fit wasn’t quite right, and they’re essentially falling apart now. When I first started talking with Field Grey, it was key to find something that fit nicely, was very comfortable and lasted well. The original concept for the first aprons was that they would be a quince leaf colour.
I also own a lot of quince-coloured yellowy-orange items. One of the things I really like about quince is how many different colours it can be – yellowy-orange when they’re ripe, green when they’re under-ripe and when you cook them, they can range from pale orange to deep garnet. I have a collection of shirts that end up being quince-coloured, and I like the idea that the apron represents the leaf, so you end up dressing as a quince every day.
And how has the uniform impacted the team?
Even after a few days, they’ve made us feel great. We’re all different heights – I’m six foot – and these aprons work for everyone. It’s really nice for me as a tall woman to have an apron that isn’t like a mini dress. And they do look really smart. As we don’t have a uniform – I don’t really care what people wear – it adds a layer of professionalism that makes everyone stand up a little bit straighter. Also, the fact you can remove the straps before putting them in the washing machine is a godsend. The straps on aprons always come off because they get tangled in the machine and the seam gets pulled. That sort of attention to detail makes such a difference.
Can you see Quince expanding?
The goal has always been to create something singular and exceptional that can stand the test of time. Expanding isn’t my focus; I want Quince to be sustainable not just in sourcing, but for me and my team. If one of the neighbouring shops opened up, maybe, but I’m not looking to become a multi-site business. It’s all very human-scale, which feels right for us.
I think it’s good to have limits. We can only make what we can make. There’s only so much fridge space, so many hours, and so much dough my hands can shape. It’s important for people to understand that food production has human limits.
Do you have a favourite recipe or type of bake?
We make rice pudding here and often a rice pudding tart, but we always have tubs of rice pudding to sell for the weekend. I think it’s the best rice pudding ever. My partner goes through about three tubs each weekend. I’ll get texts like, “Do you have rice pudding?” instead of good morning messages.
And our oat cookie is Nigel Slater’s favourite. He comes in every Saturday morning for one.
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