The pastry chef

There are three certainties in this life: death, taxes and the long line at Patisserie 46. The devoted crowds hark back 2 1/2 years to the bakery's opening day at 46th & Grand, when a queue of hungry curiosity seekers began to form at sunrise, a phenomenon that surprised and humbled baker/owner John Kraus. The popularity has never slackened.

Every so often, Kraus, 41, appears, in his chef's coat, surveying the crowd, lending a hand behind the counter, chatting up customers. He loves the neighborhood -- home is a few blocks away -- and the neighborhood has responded in kind. One of his biggest fans is fellow baker Solveig Tofte, whose Sun Street Breads is just five blocks east.

"His is the first patisserie I've ever been, anywhere, where everything tastes as good as it looks," she said. "John's work is all about clean, precise flavors."

Despite the flurry of focused activity at Patisserie 46, and the exhaustive focus on consistency, it's a fairly stress-free atmosphere. Or at least it feels that way, probably a reflection of Kraus' soft-spoken personality. "Pastry chefs tend to be, well, a little rigid," Tofte said with a laugh. "But John is the most mellow pastry guy I've ever met."

Yet, despite that pressure -- and the weariness that comes from being on his feet 15 hours a day, often six days a week, frequently starting at 2 a.m., Kraus doesn't appear to be the kind of guy who ever loses his cool.

"It's not worth it," he said. "I have way too many other things to worry about. I've worked for chefs who were real hotheads. They would humiliate you, and you'd get so upset that you couldn't focus. Here, everyone knows that if they make a mistake, they're going to be more disappointed than I am. Caring about the product, and being proud of it, that's the key to success. "

Kraus is a son of rural western Kentucky, and a hint of his roots lingers in his voice. After two aimless years in college, he decided to take his nascent interest in restaurants to a more serious level. In London, he was fortunate to labor under a series of top-flight chefs. It was a graduate-level education, minus the classrooms, and his dream of becoming an executive chef slowly but surely shifted toward pastry.

When he was invited to teach a four-day course in Minneapolis, Kraus was smitten with the city. "I mean, who wouldn't want to live here?" he said. The family left for the Twin Cities 45 minutes after Kraus participated in his last graduation ceremony at the school. Five months later, Patisserie 46 opened. The original baking staff consisted of a half-dozen former students and an even smaller front-of-the-house crew; there are now 27 employees on the payroll.

Perhaps Kraus' greatest gift is his ability to make his life's work look easy. It isn't. "I was at this for 20 years before I got up the courage to even think about opening my own place," he said. "It's scary."

And yes, he's baking to please his customers, although he isn't above catering to his own tastes. Which explains the chewy pretzels, the occasional inclusion of bourbon ("It reminds me of home," he said), the frequent nods to Alsace ("it's the best food, anywhere," he said) and most specifically the presence of canelés, the fluted, cylinder-shaped pastries with a caramelized exterior and a soft, airy, eggy and impossibly rich center. The first time he ever ate one, "it sent me on a quest to find them again," he said. Which is why they have a permanent berth in the Patisserie 46 case, despite their inexplicable low-volume track record.

"Somewhere down the line, someone will eat one and have that same experience that I had," Kraus said. "After all, I'm in the business of giving people omigod experiences."