In Between Batches, Baker Boys Dream Bigger

A week before Baker Boys opened in Highland Park, co-owner Jordan Rappaport turned to his business partner, Pete Rauser, and confessed that he had no idea what kind of sweets he'd be making.

Years of talking about starting a business together had finally brought the two men here: to a 750-square-foot space in the Ravinia Business District that was filled with baking supplies, cupcake dough and cookie sheets. Sure, it wasn't perfect: there wasn't a lot of space for customers and they could only use one oven without tapping out the electricity. But they planned to work around that by baking everything in small batches so that everything would always be fresh — a strategy that would prove frustrating to some new customers expecting a more conventional bakery, but would also win Baker Boys a dedicated following reaching deep in Highland Park as well as the surrounding suburbs.

But before all that, they needed a menu.

"A week before we opened, I didn't even know what the product base would be," Rappaport said. "I told Pete I had to figure out what we're making here."

One baker plus one baker equals five bakers

Nearly three years later, Rappaport and Rauser know what they're making with a familiarity that most people associate with breathing.

The two Highland Park natives open the bakery at 7:30 a.m. six days a week and close it together about 12 hours later. In between, the they make Intelligentsia coffee and bake muffins, scones, cupcakes, cookies, eclairs and cheesecakes. Originally Rappaport — a trained pastry chef who learned his trade in Chicago — was the baker and Rauser was the guy at the counter and on the phone. Over the years, the two began sharing all the tasks with a trust that only time and a shared, almost manic dedication can create.

"Me and Pete are really four to five people," Rappaport said. He was checking on a batch of cookies while Rauser filled eclairs. "If me and him weren't here it would take at least five people to staff this store."

The claim would sound like a boast if Rappaport wasn't so clearly frustrated by the realization. After three consecutive years of growth in customers and sales, Baker Boys is ripe for expansion. Rappaport has been looking for a second space for months, but hasn't found the right spot yet.

"There's a ton that goes into finding a location," Rappaport said. "It's not as easy as it sounds."

Sure, it's hard to find a spot that's the right size, has the right number of basins (three) and is located in an area with high foot traffic. But the hunt for a space seems more like a distraction from the question Rappaport is really struggling with: After three years of being totally accountable for and committed to this location, what will happen when he relinquishes some of that control?

"It's a fight for me to let someone make my stuff," Rappaport admitted.

Comparing the bakery to a restaurant, he said Rauser acts as his sous-chef, his second-in-command. He trusts him because the two are old friends, and because they're similarly invested in the enterprise. How will he find someone else to be that reliable?

As Rappaport and Rauser discuss the expansion, there's a nearly constant stream of customers in and out of the small storefront that is matched only by the relentless beeping of the bakery's surprisingly small oven.

"The whole day you're non-stop, thinking about your next move," Rappaport said. "You're never doing one thing."

Rappaport's reservations about the expansion are competing against another powerful force: his increasing frustration with his "mind-blowing" inefficiency. If he had two spaces, he could bake larger batches of cream cheese frosting and other items with a longer shelf life. 

"Chocolate cake has a week shelf life so if I'm making it four times a week I'm wasting my time," he said. When I suggested that the time could be spent getting more sleep, Rappaport disagreed: that's time he could spend crafting a new cupcake.

"It's a big deal."

How to make it in Highland Park

While growing into a second location is a sticky issue for Baker Boys, the fact that the two men face the conundrum of expansion is especially remarkable when compared to the faltering state of the rest of Highland Park's dining and dessert scene.

During the course of Baker Boys' nearly three years in business, two cupcake places have opened and closed on Central Avenue in downtown Highland Park. Restaurants like Corner Bakery, Stashs, M and Moderno have come and gone. Some, like Royce, Benjamin Tapas and Nieto's are reinventions that owners hope will accommodate diners looking to spend less when they eat out.

"Initially I was like, 'uh-oh,' about two cupcakes places," Rappaport said. "Do these people know we exist? We've already been here a year. I was definitely nervous."

Rappaport never got to try either cupcake place before it closed. He was too busy. But he says he never noticed a decline in his own sales, either.

"You just keep your head down, keep doing what you're doing," he said.

Rappaport and Rauser don't know why Baker Boys has thrived when similar ventures have stumbled. They threw out a few suggestions, including the bakery's shoestring budget, the actual product and their unflinching work ethic.

"When it's all said and done, if the product is no good you can have the greatest space in the world… it's not going to last," Rauser said.

Then Rappaport threw out a more abstract suggestion: mental devotion to the product.

"You have to be there," Rappaport said, holding his fingers to his temples. He points to Norton's and Country Kitchen as examples of successful places where the managers are a constant presence.

'The markets aren't that great'

As the ups and downs of Highland Park restaurants illustrate, it isn't easy to turn a profit in the dining industry. That's especially true when it comes to sweets.

Steve Farley, a former partner at Julius Meinl Coffee Shop who now works as a salesman for Chicagoland Beverage Company, explained the obstacles facing the Baker Boys. The cost of business may be a bit lower, but the labor is time intensive and the purchases are often small in comparison to a check at the end of a full meal at a resaurant.

"You have to make a lot of transactions or sell a lot out the back door," Farley said. "The markets aren't that great."

Farley goes to Baker Boys almost every day. He moved to Highland Park a few months ago, but he's known Rappaport for about a decade. He got the Baker Boys a deal on their coffee and recently helped them find some nicer chairs and tables for customers to give the place "more of a cafe feel."

During the day, he sees Rauser and Rappaport refer to their customers by name. They know who typically orders what and will start preparing a cupcake box the minute a familiar face walks through the door.

"They know 90 percent of customers," Farley said. "These days, you don't see that as much."

'We're pretty proud'

A few moments before a group of mothers and their children amble into the storefront for cupcakes, cookies and coffee, Rauser tells an anecdote from the bakery's early days.

A woman walked in on a Saturday afternoon with some of her friends, but the shelves were empty. The morning rush had just ended, and Rauser and Rappaport were in the middle of making new batches of everything.

"I could tell she and her friend were kind of frustrated and angry," Rauser said.

Regardless, the woman continued coming to the bakery. Months later, she confided to Rauser that she didn't get what they were doing before. Now, she understood.

"You do it a little bit differently," she told Rauser, "but the product speaks for itself."

The experience was a validating one for Rauser, who smiled as he recounted it. He's similarly excited at the prospect of expanding.

"We're pretty proud with this location," Rauser said. "We'd like to see it grow."

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