Neggers and Palmer join about 75 other authors leading panels on topics such as “What Makes Us Special: Southern Literature” and “Turning the Page: The Suspense is Thrilling Me.” Workshops about how to develop characters appeal to novice writers, while panels about getting completed work published attract professionals.

A portion of all sales from the event’s book fair go toward promoting literacy in Robeson County and reducing crime in the area. Recipients of the 2012 literacy campaign contributions include Friends of the Robeson County Public Library, an organization that advocates for adult literacy, and the Dolly Parton Imagination Library, which gets kids ages 1 to 5 excited about reading.

To learn more about how the cakes came to be, watch this exclusive Our State video.

Recipe cards for each of the five cakes are below. Click the link next to each image and print the pdf. NOTE: Adobe Reader is required to view and print the recipe cards. Click here to download.

The Krispy Kreme Cake

Get Krispy Kreme Cake Recipe Card.

The Maple Syrup & Country Ham Cake

Get Maple Syrup & Country Ham Cake Recipe Card.

The Pimento Cheese Cake

Get Pimento Cheese Cake Recipe Card.

The Nabs Cake

Get Nabs Cake Recipe Card.

The Pepsi ‘N’ Peanuts Cake

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The two men are here to figure out where to put additional trail markers on the Emerald Outback, eight miles of backcountry trail that runs through the gated Emerald Mountain housing development. They aren’t officially trespassing, of course. If they were walking instead of riding in Pfohl’s SUV, they wouldn’t even need a code. The development has given the Town of Beech Mountain an easement, inviting hikers and bikers to slip past the entry system. But it’s raining. So Pfohl punches in the semi-secret key giddily. “We’re not supposed to know this stuff,” he says.

But Pfohl and Ellington seem to know pretty much everything about the Town of Beech Mountain. Pfohl — who raised five kids here in an apartment above Fred’s General Mercantile, the store he runs with his wife, Margie — was in attendance when the town was born. Beech Mountain, established circa 1981, is still a young thing, much younger than the nearby town of Boone (1872) or neighboring Banner Elk (1911).

In the mid-1970s, the corporation that owned the mountain went bankrupt, and a handful of residents began the process of turning their developer-created community into a public township. They oversaw the transfer of infrastructure. Resort security guards became town policemen. Established ski slopes continued operations as Beech Mountain Resort, which still thrives in what is now Eastern America’s highest incorporated town at 5,506 feet.

Pfohl, an attentive man with a manicured white beard, was the town’s first elected mayor. He served four terms, and he’s never given up his sense of responsibility. Pfohl begins every morning making a list of what he needs to do for his store — only to find that, somewhere along the line, his to-do items morph into civic duties. “I call him the list man, but I’m the same way,” Ellington says.

Pfohl, in turn, gestures toward Ellington. “Yeah, how many towns have the groundskeeper of a golf course taking care of the lawn in front of their fire station?” Ellington, a superintendent at the private Beech Mountain Club, blushes.

The two men — alongside Daniel Scagnelli, the town’s Parks and Recreation director — were instrumental in creating the Outback. It is the first phase of a 25-mile Mountain Adventure Trail Park the town plans to complete in 2014, and it consists of mostly slender, woodland paths. Ellington helped design the system, marked by cedar signs. “I watched where the deer went to figure out where the trails should go,” Ellington says. “The deer know the best routes. They flow with their family through the seasons.”

Mountain bikers make good use of the trail, streaking through the forest, their brightly colored gear flashing in and out of view. Ellington points to a narrow trail where surrounding tree limbs seem poised to reach out to tap a hiker’s shoulder. “This trail is at 5,400 feet,” he says. “I come up here to train on my bike, and I suffer.”

Resilience brings rewards. Training in high altitudes increases red blood cells, pushing more oxygen into the blood.

“There are actually some people that say just because we’re up here day to day we’re going to live longer and our hearts will be stronger,” Ellington says. “But I don’t know about that.”

More than a store

A man chases Pfohl’s car through downtown Beech Mountain, a small cluster of buildings reminiscent of the chalet-style architecture required by the mountain’s early developers. It’s raining, but Pfohl rolls his window all the way down. “I’ve got those papers you asked for,” says the runner, who turns out to be a building inspector. He shoves a stack of papers into Pfohl’s hands.

Pfohl requested the information because someone recently came in asking about Beech Mountain’s building regulations. “I didn’t want to tell him the wrong thing, and I wanted to do right by him,” Pfohl says, slipping the stack of papers onto his dashboard until he can deliver them into his curious customer’s hands.

When Pfohl and his wife opened their store, they hoped it would be a community hub. “Little did we know that it was going to become an unofficial town hall, chamber of commerce, and welcome center,” Pfohl says. “People come to us before they’ll go to anyone else.”

It’s nearly lunch, time to head back to the store. When Pfohl bounds across wide, wood-plank floors on the way to his office, a local couple stops him. They want to introduce him to a visitor from out of town.

“See,” the woman says to her friend, “I told you there really was a Fred!”

This isn’t the first time Pfohl has been mistaken for a myth. The store orbits him as he exchanges pleasantries. In a back hallway, beyond walls stocked with high-end footwear and outdoorsy clothing, kids pick out rental videos. Cash registers tick off receipts for canned goods and bottles of wine. Beyond the counter, a man jingles a drawer of bolts in the corner designated for hardware. Above his head, a poster of wild bird species hangs from the ceiling. It waves in greeting each time an exterior door opens — and that happens a lot.

A PVC pipe, planted upright by the store’s front entrance, marks each year with the mountain’s annual snowfalls. In 2010 and 2011, the marks almost reached the building’s second story. Beech Mountain isn’t an easy place to spend the winter.

Most of the town’s 350 year-round locals — and a few of the savviest part-timers, who number in the thousands — know that Wednesday is grocery day on the mountain. That’s when shipments arrive at Fred’s, the only grocery store in town. When there’s a heavy snow and it appears that tractor-trailers aren’t going to make it up the mountain, Pfohl drives his pickup down to Banner Elk to meet them on a lower delivery route.

Last winter, Pfohl made the trek half a dozen times. Occasionally, he drives across fields because he can’t get traction on the road. He keeps a plow attached to the front of his vehicle several months of the year.

The fact that Pfohl often doubles his workload in service to the town doesn’t directly make him money. It substantially increases his operating budget, but he believes that making his town welcoming might encourage people to come around more often. “I wish everybody in America could live in a small town for a little while to understand what they’re all about,” he says. “I think they would get a feeling of being part of something bigger than themselves.”

Rich in nature

Pfohl’s pockets are full of hardware. He tosses a power drill into the backseat and continues his rounds. Ellington has gone back to work, but there’s a town bulletin board in need of updating. Pfohl needs to post laminated maps and informational panels. He drives toward a lookout, one of the most popular sites on the mountain. There, he points toward a gray tourist kiosk. “I just finished that one up yesterday,” he says. Below, cloud shadows roll across a forested sea.

He moves past the Beech Mountain Club, where Ellington maintains an 18-hole, ridge-top golf course, and on to a pond that supplies water for snow-making on Beech Mountain’s ski slopes. Roughly the size of an Olympic pool, the pond has a lone, smoothed-over boulder sticking up from its placid waters like the arch of a turtle’s back. In the distance, he spots B.J. Hughes, one of Beech Mountain’s parks and trails coordinators, unloading a power blower. Pfohl wonders how the town’s guided-hike program is going, so he makes a detour.

After Hughes gives Pfohl the stats on his last hike — 20 city-bred visitors, most of whom had never spent time in the woods — Hughes points at a jack vine. It’s the sort of thing he shows guests to the mountain. He walks over and pulls out a pocketknife, grabbing the rough, twig-like vine between his thumb and forefinger before slicing into pine-scented meat. “People use this to make crafts, like birdhouses,” he says.

Hughes sometimes shops at Fred’s, but he sees all of Beech Mountain as a wild sort of general mercantile. His lists — mostly grocery lists — are a little nontraditional. They include: morel mushrooms, branch lettuce, salamanders, and bass. “I’ll get a full meal from the woods,” he says. “This place is full of all kinds of food, medicine, cures. You’ve just got to know where to look.”

Hughes stands in a town parking lot, but, without moving his feet from gravel, he’s able to secure another forest-born necessity. “If you’re ever in the mountains and can’t get a fire started in the rain,” he says, “you can use birch bark.” He pulls a handful of bronze-colored paper from a yellow birch’s trunk. “This goes up like kerosene,” he says.

He points to the tender ends of silvered limbs. “You can also make tea from this tree,” he says. “All the flavor’s in the green shoots. You boil them.” He pulls at a small branch until it snaps. “Old-timers used to use this as a toothbrush,” he says, scratching at smooth bark with his fingernail. The smell of spearmint wafts through the afternoon’s cooling air.

Beech Mountain is rich with natural amenities, and it sometimes surprises even Hughes. Last year, he found some wild apricot trees on one of the town’s municipal hiking trails and took a bite. “It was like biting into a hunk of honey,” he says, adding a warning, “You’ve got to get to them before the bears.”

Pfohl shakes his head at the thought of competing with wildlife for a taste of sweetness. He’ll stick to the seasonal produce stocked in his store. But as he speeds away — he still has that billboard to take care of, not to mention the part he needs to order for the town flagpole — it’s clear that he respects what Hughes adds to the community. “B.J. used to work in a manufacturing plant before he started at Beech,” Pfohl says. “But he’s in his element here. We all are.”

Life in Beech Mountain is surprisingly busy from Pfohl’s perspective, but in spite of his charted days and never ending to-do lists, he maintains that living here isn’t stressful.

“Maybe there’s something to that stuff Rory was talking about earlier, about living at 5,000 feet,” Pfohl says. “Sometimes, it does feel like we have a little advantage. We don’t feel pressured by our surroundings. Up here, we can really breathe.”

Five Things Not to Miss in Beech Mountain

1. At the Mile High Kite Festival, colors and cares are tossed into the wind every Labor Day weekend. There are prizes for the best decorated, smallest, and largest kites. If you’re unsure of your crafting skills, you’re welcome to attend one of the building and decorating clinics held each year before the festival.
   403-A Beech Mountain Parkway
   (828) 387-9283
   beechmountainchamber.com

2. During its annual Autumn at Oz event, Beech Mountain’s historic Land of Oz theme park temporarily reopens to the public. Visit Auntie Em’s farm, complete with hayrides and a cast of Wizard-seeking characters who will follow you down the yellow-brick road.
   2669 South Beech Mountain Parkway
   (828) 387-2000
   emeraldmtn.com

3. The town plays host to Summer Street Dances several times each summer, when sand borrowed from the traps at the Beech Mountain Club golf course covers the parking lot in front of Town Hall. Even though the atmosphere will be warm, temperatures tend to drop with the sun at high altitudes. This is one beach party where it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a sweater on hand.
   403 Beech Mountain Parkway
   (828) 387-4236
   townofbeechmountain.com

4. Take advantage of Beech Mountain’s guided hikes, which teach — among other skills — plant identification. They launch from the Buckeye Recreation Center on the first Tuesday of each month from April through October.
   206 Grassy Gap Creek Road
   (828) 387-3003
   beechrecreation.org

5. The town has one of the only municipal snow blowers in the state, and the blower creates a free, seasonal sledding hill located just a few feet from Town Hall. Beech Mountain Resort also manufactures snow, day and night, to assure that the mountain’s nearly 100 skiable acres stay covered throughout the season.

Fred’s General Mercantile
501 Beech Mountain Parkway
Beech Mountain, N.C. 28604
(828) 387-4838
fredsgeneral.com

Beech Mountain Resort
1007 Beech Mountain Parkway
Beech Mountain, N.C. 28604
(828) 387-2011
skibeech.com

Leigh Ann Henion’s debut book is forthcoming from Penguin Press. Visit leighannhenion.com to learn more about her work. Leigh Ann’s most recent story for Our State was “Soaring Legacies” (January 2011).

And so they came to Kinston, this beautiful ex-tobacco town, and opened Chef & the Farmer in a former mule barn, former gift shop, former print shop a block off of the main boulevard.

“Our goal is for this to be the best restaurant anywhere,” says Howard, the restaurant’s eponymous chef. “We don’t want to be a good restaurant for Kinston or a good restaurant for eastern North Carolina. We want to be the best restaurant in the state.”

Northern exposure

Howard is from around here. She grew up on a farm 15 miles away, near Deep Run, in the house where she and her husband now live. Her cotton-and-hog-farmer dad used to send her to school with a sausage biscuit and a honey bun for lunch.

But it was New York City, where Howard went after college, that gave Howard her start in the food business. She worked in advertising, until she quit and ended up getting hired at Voyage, the now-defunct West Village restaurant. There, her comfort with Southern food turned out to be an asset with the African-American chef.

It was also at Voyage that Howard met her husband.

“The number one question I get asked is ‘Are you the farmer?’ ” Knight quips. He’s not. Rather, the Chicago-native, who claims to have once planted 57 tomato plants only to yield one tomato, got into the restaurant business the old-fashioned way: supporting his aspirations as an artist.

Now, he’s the manager to Howard’s chef. Together, the pair has spent the last five years in this corner of eastern North Carolina building up Chef & the Farmer into a surprising 33-employee enterprise with a AAA Four-Diamond rating.

Their touch is everywhere inside. The first thing that greets you when you walk in is a giant cotton bale wrapped in burlap and Christmas lights, standing in the corner like some giant, sackcloth-clad SpongeBob Squarepants (actually, it’s a “small” keepsake from her father’s first cotton harvest). Knight’s paintings also loom large, with a wall-size triptych of fat, angular coal seams running through glacial chunks of ash, turquoise, and mud.

The fruits of Howard’s most important contribution — the menu — come from a kitchen three times the size of their entire Harlem apartment. Pressed for a dish that epitomizes her approach, she thinks about it, starts a few times, and then names her braised pork shoulder and sweet potato lasagna with hand-rolled noodles.

“That’s like, kinda Southern, kinda not, kinda modern, very unique,” she says.

Southern embrace

Whether the fine-dining market in post-tobacco Kinston was large enough to support such a restaurant was an open question when Chef & the Farmer began. “Everyone fully expected us to fail,” Howard says. “It seemed like a preposterous thing to do.”

But after a year and a half of some lean nights, they started to build a wider following. Kinston, as it happens, is well triangulated between Greenville, Goldsboro, and New Bern, all of which provide the restaurant with a steady stream of customers.

And local farms, boosted by the state’s Golden LEAF program, have been transitioning from tobacco to food crops, putting Chef & the Farmer right in the heart of local-food country. “That’s the beauty of having this type of restaurant right here,” Howard says. “This morning I stopped at my neighbor’s — who’s one of our farmers — and picked up some peppers on the way to work.”

Chef & the Farmer now looks less like an aberration than the first wave of a rising tide.

Howard and Knight plan to ride right along with it. Knight has a small art space next to a prominent new microbrewery and is kicking around the idea of a New York-style gallery with the studio behind it. “And as this community grows, and we have a lot of hope for it,” Howard says, “we have some ideas of other restaurants we’d like to see.”

Then, with a laugh, “Not like this.”

Chef & the Farmer
120 West Gordon Street

Kinston, N.C. 28501
(252) 208-2433
chefandthefarmer.com

Eric Burnette is a writer, lawyer, and self-proclaimed foodie. He lives in Durham with his wife, Brooke.

Behind the counter, owner Matt Neal — a round-shouldered guy who is built more like a running back than a chef — works the hot side, shuttling corned beef and pastrami sandwiches to and from the oven and giving grilled pimento cheese sandwiches a quick tan in the sandwich press.

His wife, Sheila — her short, blond hair poking out from under a camouflage cap — has the cold side under control, layering Italian subs, assembling marinated tuna salads, and spooning up slow-roasted broad beans.

They work side by side in the galley kitchen, their bob-and-weave dance synchronized over a black rubber floor mat, their constant patter about orders punctuated with shouts to patrons.

“Jennifer, for takeout — Jennifer!”

“Hey, where have you been?”

“Good to see you! Hope you enjoyed it!”

On top of the deli case, plastic bags of this morning’s buttermilk biscuits are on sale, four for $4. A T-shirt hanging on a wall announces that you’re in the “Home of the Pastrami Biscuit.”

This is deli done Southern style. Specifically, Carrboro style and, most important, Neal style, which means a lot in these parts.

Living legacy

Matt Neal’s daddy, the late Bill Neal, was culinary royalty. He and his wife, Moreton, opened the restaurant La Résidence in nearby Chatham County in 1976. When they decided that a French place would be better off in a county that allowed wine sales, they moved La Rés — as it is known among locals — to Rosemary Street in Chapel Hill, and their version of Paris-in-the-Piedmont took off, snaring praise from food critics, including Craig Claiborne of The New York Times.

When the couple split in the early 1980s, Bill took over Crook’s Corner on West Franklin Street a few blocks away and made it the high altar of down-home. Foodies from far and wide fawned over his twists on classics like shrimp and grits.

They also snapped up his books — Bill Neal’s Southern Cooking, Good Old Grits Cookbook, and Biscuits, Spoonbread and Sweet Potato Pie — minting his legend even before he died in 1991, at age 41.

Matt Neal absorbed all of this culinary exposure growing up — he bused tables, he washed dishes, and he smoked the heck out of a pig — but he wanted something different.

He wanted to be an artist, to study drawing, painting, and design.

He went to the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, then to the Savannah College of Art and Design. He stayed in touch with the hospitality business back home by bartending off and on in Chapel Hill.

His friend Silvia Pahola, then the chef at Acme Food & Beverage Co. in Carrboro, introduced him to one of her employees, Sheila Dalton. The chemistry extended to the kitchen.

On one of their first dates, Sheila and Matt went to a movie toting cheese straws and Bene crackers that Sheila made from recipes in Bill Neal’s cookbooks.

“It was sweet,” Matt says. “And even if they hadn’t been from my dad’s recipes, I still would have appreciated it.”

“We had a lot of the same interests, and food was part of that,” Sheila says.

A native of High Point, Sheila grew up with a Betty Crocker cookbook, an Easy Bake Oven, parents who liked to eat at nice restaurants, and grandparents who loved to eat close to the earth.

Her maternal grandmother in High Point pickled green beans from the garden. Her paternal grandparents in Rockingham County made pork sausage, sipped homemade peach brandy, and cooked quail and grits with fresh-shot birds.

When Sheila packed off to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill to study for an English degree, she polished her food smarts, too, by baking in the cafe at Wellspring Grocery.

Later, she waited tables at the family-owned restaurant 411 West on Franklin Street, and she spent three months nibbling her way through Europe, with M.F.K. Fisher’s The Art of Eating as a guide.

A stint at The French Culinary Institute in New York cemented Sheila’s desire to cook for a living. She logged time at a couple of white-tablecloth restaurants and managed the Carrboro farmers market before launching the deli with Matt in 2008.

For his part, Matt chucked the idea of making art for a living. “It was the starving-artist thing,” he says. “I’m a big guy, and I like to eat. I said, ‘You know what? I’m going back into food.’”

Why a deli?

“That’s what everyone asks,” says Sheila, flashing a warm smile that must have made her a good cheerleader at High Point Central High School.

The couple chose a deli for several reasons. One, they knew they wanted children, and they figured a breakfast and lunch place would be easier on family life than a dinner place.

Two, Carrboro was shy on lunch places, and Matt wanted to stay close to the family’s home — his father’s old home — near downtown Carrboro, on the western flank of Chapel Hill.

“I didn’t want us and everybody else in the world to have to drive here,” he says.

He and Sheila also hoped to draw a wide variety of customers and draw them repeatedly for the business, yes, and also for the fun of developing relationships. Both had worked in expensive restaurants and found that many customers were rather monolithic middle-agers.

“I like to see a lot of different people coming through the doors,” Matt says.

Neal’s Deli has them. Hippies. Hipsters. Grannies. Graduate students. Yang Guo is a UNC graduate student from China. A devotee of the pastrami and Italian sausages, he comes into Neal’s at least three times a week.

“Two things attract me the most here,” Guo says. “The first is the food quality. The second is the staff here are very friendly. Also, the menu keeps changing. It’s a nice surprise.”

Food philosophy

Neal’s strives for freshness. Granted, they fly in Hofmann’s franks from Syracuse, New York, and the Zapp’s potato chips hail from Louisiana, but most ingredients come from within 50 miles. They get produce from the Carrboro farmers market; bread from Guglhupf Bakery in Durham; Italian sausage from San Giuseppe Salami Company in Elon; beef and chicken from Cliff’s Meat Market in Carrboro.

The Neals make their own pastrami and corned beef. They devote almost half of their refrigerator space to tubs where they brine beef briskets for at least a week in sugar, salt, and spices before smoking them over hickory for several hours.

The succulent meat leaves the deli inside breakfast biscuits and two of the most popular lunchtime sandwiches — the pastrami-based Manhattan, and the corned-beef stuffed Reuben.

Customers also crave the pimento cheese mixed with a splash of bourbon; chicken soup; pickled okra; and, during Mardi Gras, the gumbo.

The hot dogs served on Brezel rolls — large, soft pretzel twists — always sell well. Specials include an apple and cheddar dog, made with fried apples and Cabot cheddar, and a creation called Chileanos Completos, a dog dressed with avocado salsa, sauerkraut, chipotle Tabasco sauce, and mayonnaise.

So what the heck does that make Neal’s? A Jewish deli? An Italian deli? A New Orleans deli? A Chilean deli?

“It’s our deli,” Matt says. “It’s our take on deli food.”

Their version earned favorable bumps in The New York Times; on Cooking Channel’s “Unique Eats”; on Oprah.com; and in Food & Wine and Bon Appetit magazines.

Matt knows the comparisons between him and his father are inevitable, and yes, he feels the pressure.

“It needs to be good,” he says of his cooking. “It needs to be honest.”

He’s not going to be rushed, though. He waves off questions about expanding beyond the tiny deli, which seats a dozen people inside and another 15 outside on nice days.

For now, he and Sheila, both of whom just turned 40, have their hands full, managing work and home life with two children, 6-year-old Hank and 2-year-old Anne.

Every so often, Matt opens one of his father’s cookbooks to study a recipe.

“Then I close the book and do it my way,” he says. That’s Neal style.

Neal’s Deli
100 East Main Street
Carrboro, N.C. 27510
(919) 967-2185
nealsdeli.com
Hours: Monday-Saturday,
7:30 a.m.-4 p.m.

Maria Johnson is an award-winning writer in Greensboro. Her most recent story for Our State was “Forged from the Soil” (September 2011).

The Bakehouse
120 North Poplar Street, Aberdeen, N.C. 28315
(910) 944-9204
thebakehouse.biz

Visit the rest of the delectable independent, local bakeries in Our State‘s North Carolina dessert tour:
The Sisters McMullen
Mountain Pie Company
Jimmie’s Sweets
Rosebriar
Hayes Barton Café & Dessertery
Bread of Heaven Bakery
Cheesecakes by Alex
Paul’s Pastry Shop
Seaside Cheesecake Dessert Shoppe
Savannah Red
Bailey Café
Sugar on Front Street

Savannah Red
100 West Trade Street, Charlotte, N.C. 28202
(704) 358-6524
savannahred.com

Visit the rest of the delectable independent, local bakeries in Our State‘s North Carolina dessert tour:
The Sisters McMullen
Mountain Pie Company
Jimmie’s Sweets
Rosebriar
Hayes Barton Café & Dessertery
Bread of Heaven Bakery
Cheesecakes by Alex
Paul’s Pastry Shop
Seaside Cheesecake Dessert Shoppe
Bailey Café
The Bakehouse
Sugar on Front Street

From the collaboration of both organizations came the decision to pair pieces from the art museum’s collection with the symphony’s music to create a multisensory performance. Images or scenes of western North Carolina scroll in the background, while the symphony performs Beethoven’s “Pastoral” in the foreground. These artistic renderings of the mountains and rolling landscapes of western North Carolina portray the same bucolic themes found in Beethoven’s symphony.

“Like a ballet, there will be a lot of listening and looking,” says Pam Myers, executive director of the art museum. “But the viewer must make the decision about when and how they look for themselves.”

Landscapes

Lawrence Mazzanovich’s untitled landscape reflects the idyllic lifestyle he enjoyed while living in Tryon surrounded by the Blue Ridge Mountains. His emotional work epitomizes pastoral style.

Russell Theodore Limbach was a prominent lithographer who also worked as a political cartoonist. Approaching Storm reflects his commitment to social realism and the belief that man is subject to the forces of nature.

Considered a pioneer of modernism in the American South, Will Henry Stevens’s landscape of the Blue Ridge Mountains reflects the tranquility and peaceful solitude of a western North Carolina countryside.

Beethoven’s “Pastoral” Symphony No. 6
Performed by the Asheville Symphony Orchestra
February 11, 8 p.m.
Thomas Wolfe Auditorium
For tickets, call (828) 254-7046, or visit ashevillesymphony.org.

Paul’s Pastry Shop
720 South Church Street, Burlington, N.C. 27215
(336) 226-4757

Visit the rest of the delectable independent, local bakeries in Our State‘s North Carolina dessert tour:
The Sisters McMullen
Mountain Pie Company
Jimmie’s Sweets
Rosebriar
Hayes Barton Café & Dessertery
Bread of Heaven Bakery
Cheesecakes by Alex
Seaside Cheesecake Dessert Shoppe
Savannah Red
Bailey Café
The Bakehouse
Sugar on Front Street