HOLIDAY CHEER
Happy Holidays from the entire IZOLA Team. Thank you all for your support, laughter, and love this year. On Christmas Eve, IZOLA will be open during its regular hours, from 7 a.m. to 2 p.m. Place your pre-orders now, or pop by to see us.
HOLIDAY HOURS
Christmas Eve: 7a - 2p
Closed Christmas Day
Thu - Sun: 7a - 2p
YEAR END INVESTING
As we near the end of the year, I wanted to take a moment to thank our over 500 investors for their support of IZOLA's justice-based mission. Creating meaningful change takes a lot of time and effort.
Without our investors, we wouldn’t be here today, nor would we have created nearly 50 purpose-filled jobs guided by leaders that reflect our diverse community:
56% Women
44% BIPOC
22% LGBTQIA+
22% Restorative Justice
We need your help to scale our impact. We are raising funds now to build our new production facility in City Heights, expand job training, open new bread cafes, and improve our technology. Watch our short webinar or head to our Microventures portal to learn how this redevelopment will improve profit margins while creating jobs in a zero-emission dough factory.
If you're ready to invest, just click the "INVEST" button on the top right hand side of the page. You can invest as little as $1000.
Questions? Feel free to email me at jb@izolabakery.com.
And remember that investing is risky...most small businesses fail, so please don't invest more than you can afford to lose.
We're excited to share with you another chapter in the adventures of Crispy the Croissant, who we introduced to our email subscribers last month. Crispy the Croissant and the poem below were both created and written by Chef Lane, our Sourdough and Bake Lead. Not only can she bake, inspire our team members, and make beautiful sourdough, but she is a storyteller and artist to boot! If you missed Crispy's comic strip, you can catch it here!
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS:
CROISSANT EDITION
Crispy and their friends on a cold winter’s night,
Were packed in a box all snuggled in tight.
Twas the night before Christmas, and they awaited the man,
Who would come down the chimney and fall into their plan.
From the kitchen they gazed at the glistening tree,
And saw milk and cookies where they ought to be.
“That should be us!” they said to each other.
“Santa would LOVE 96 layers of butter!”
But one croissant didn’t feel so secure.
Unlike butter, her flavor was much more obscure.
Twas Munchy, the Moroccan Black Olive croissant,
Too funky and naughty for Santa to want.
Then what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a pair of black boots and a man with a beard!
As soon as Santa arrived fireside,
Munchy snuck out of the box to hide.
St. Nick was quiet, and went straight to work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.
He saw them and toward the kitchen he came.
And they whistled, and shouted, and told him their names;
"I’m Crispy! I’m Knotty! I’m Gooey, I’m Crunchy!
"I’m Sugar! I’m Butter! I’m Swirly! I’m Smunchy!”
They shouted and begged him to please have a taste,
“Those plain sugar cookies would be such a waste!”
Then Santa spotted the runaway treat.
Another croissant he had yet to meet.
St. Nick picked her up and, smiling, expressed,
“You must have fallen away from the rest.
“What is your name, dear little croissant?
“And, tell me, what is it for Christmas you want?”
Munchy trembled, quite nervous was she,
But she told him the truth, as plain as could be:
“I wish to be chosen and loved a bunch.
“But I’m naughty. You probably won’t like me too much.
“Those sugar cookies are tender and mild,
“But me, I’ve got olives! I’m funky and wild!
“And not only that, I’ve got buckwheat inside,
“And sourdough starter and a chocolate surprise!
“With black stripes all over, I’m strange as can be,
“But maybe too wild for you to love me?”
“I’ll admit,” the man said, “that sounds pretty weird,
“But a wild thing is not to be feared.
“Just because you’re different, doesn’t mean you’re bad.
“You might be the best treat I’ve ever had.”
He invited Munchy to fly on his sleigh,
And take the place of cookies that day.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
Croissant in hand, up the chimney he rose;
And Munchy sang out as St. Nick took a bite,
“Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
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