About a month ago, in a fit of seasonal optimism, I made a pumpkin bread that tasted exactly like what it was: pumpkin bread. Perfectly nice, perfectly one-note — all cinnamon and sugar and nostalgia. But basic. Very, very basic. I wanted something that invited a second slice instead of registering as cloying on the tongue.

So I started wondering how a modern bakery — you know the type: bright and breezy, with curved counters, solid iced coffee, a sunny display case and an obligatory farmers market stall (I have a soft spot for them, even if I’m always overpaying by at least two dollars a pastry) — would update it.

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Lately, I’ve been making pilgrimages to some of Chicago’s best, including my nearby favorite, Lost Larson — a Scandinavian-inspired bakery where morning buns glisten

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