{"id":217026,"date":"2026-05-01T20:12:50","date_gmt":"2026-05-01T20:12:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ny\/217026\/"},"modified":"2026-05-01T20:12:50","modified_gmt":"2026-05-01T20:12:50","slug":"why-caputos-closed-in-brooklyn-a-broken-oven","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-ny\/217026\/","title":{"rendered":"Why Caputo\u2019s Closed in Brooklyn: A Broken Oven"},"content":{"rendered":"

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\n Bread from Caputo\u2019s Bake Shop.
\n Photo: Max Flatow\n <\/p>\n

James Beard once said good bread is the most fundamentally satisfying of all foods. Caputo\u2019s Bake Shop<\/a> on Court Street, a 122-year-old Italian bastion of bread, was proof of that. Its chewy ciabatta rolls, twisted taralli, and black-and-white cookies ensured its Carroll Gardens neighbors were never in short supply of well-made baked goods. And like many who live in the area, I was shocked when this daily staple closed without warning<\/a>.<\/p>\n

The tributes have poured in throughout the week, but it has remained unclear why, exactly, James Caputo \u2014 the bakery\u2019s fifth-generation owner \u2014 decided to close in the first place and why its shuttering came so suddenly. In talking to him, however, it becomes clear that the choice to close was not arrived at in haste; it was only when the bakery\u2019s Italian-made Logiudice<\/a> deck oven started to leak, literally, that he was able to come to terms with his long-simmering desire to take a break.<\/p>\n

The oven is an annular steam-tube-powered system; a crucial tube broke and steam was escaping before making it into the chambers where the bread was baked, meaning the loaves wouldn\u2019t rise. Over the years, water had deteriorated the compartment it was encased in, and the chamber was buried in concrete.<\/p>\n

There was no easy fix, or any fix at all, unfortunately, because the oven is anchored into the building\u2019s foundation \u2014 both structurally and sentimentally. \u201cIn the bottom of all that concrete is the steam generator, and the steam generator was shot,\u201d Caputo explains. \u201cTo get to the generators and rebuild, we would have to be shut down for weeks.\u201d In order to continue baking in the space, the family would have had to remove the decades-old oven and replace it with a bigger, better new one, an extremely costly endeavor. Margins are already tight, and beyond that, Caputo was ready for a change. \u201cIt was a totally personal decision,\u201d he says. \u201cWe were squeaking by.\u201d<\/p>\n

Caputo\u2019s closing didn\u2019t come out of the blue for the family. \u201cIt had been discussed with my wife, mom, dad, and children for a very long time, but there was really no timeline,\u201d Caputo tells me. Running the bakery took a toll on him both physically and mentally: \u201cIt got to a point where I needed to move forward, take the next step, and with three sons, I wouldn\u2019t want this lifestyle for them.\u201d He says the work was 24 hours a day, seven days a week. His phone rang throughout the night. \u201cThere was no rest for me, no off switch. It was so tumultuous that it was almost more stressful going away than being at work.\u201d<\/p>\n

Plenty of people expressed interest in taking over, but he didn\u2019t want to sell outside the family: \u201cIf I didn\u2019t rip the Band-Aid off \u2014 I\u2019d be there until I die!\u201d Understandably, he\u2019s looking forward to taking some time off: \u201cI want to live a normal life for a little while, while I can.\u201d<\/p>\n

Caputo\u2019s biggest concern now is for his staff, many of whom have worked at the bakery for more years than even himself. He mentions Jose Motta, a.k.a. Joe, a manager who is like a brother to Caputo; Motta comes for Christmas dinner every year, and John Caputo, James\u2019s father, was the best man in Joe\u2019s wedding.<\/p>\n

Natives of Palermo, the Caputo family immigrated to Brooklyn in the early 20th century, and in 1904, Caputo\u2019s great-great-grandfather, Giovanni Caputo, opened the family bakery \u2014 originally in a small storefront at President and Hicks Streets. Shortly thereafter, he relocated it to Court Street in the Longshoremen\u2019s Association, where it sat for 60 years until Caputo\u2019s great-grandfather, also James, moved it across Court to its current location.<\/p>\n

Caputo\u2019s was famous among its fans for the variety of different breads it offered \u2014\u00a0\u201cI had a couple hundred SKUs, that was kind of our trademark,\u201d Caputo says \u2014\u00a0and the bakery\u2019s lard bread, on offer since the beginning, became an icon of the place over the years. It was an iteration of pane con ciccioli, which is traditionally studded with pork renderings cooked down until they\u2019re crunchy. \u201cMy favorite way to eat that bread was as soon as it came out of the oven \u2014 it burned my mouth!\u201d Caputo says. \u201cI do worry that I might not ever eat a lard bread again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Caputo also remained committed to making Sicilian breads, even though they were never a big seller. \u201cI was losing money on them, but it was so important to my identity,\u201d he says. Distinct from what we colloquially know as \u201cItalian bread,\u201d Caputo explains that Sicilian breads involve a much longer process to create, with a drier dough that bakes at a lower temperature than a baguette, for example, and without steam. The result is a very pale loaf with a cottony interior. (Caputo\u2019s characteristic red-and-white twine, which hung from golden teardrop canisters from the ceiling, was pressed into the dough rather than slashing the tops with razors. As the dough proofed, the twine would leave its distinctive score marks.)<\/p>\n

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\n Preparing loaves.
\n Photo: Max Flatow\n <\/p>\n

In his 25-year tenure as owner, Caputo has extended the wholesale business across the borough and beyond, which had grown to include spots like Peter Luger<\/a>, Noodle Pudding<\/a> in Brooklyn Heights, and Sam\u2019s Pizzeria<\/a> just up the street \u2014 the first restaurant Caputo remembers going to. More recently, Court Street Grocers<\/a> and the Meat Hook<\/a> have purchased loads of loaves for their sandwiches. Stephen Young, the general manager at the Meat Hook\u2019s Carroll Gardens location, grew up in Yonkers in an Italian American enclave. The original Williamsburg Meat Hook uses She Wolf<\/a> bread for its sandwiches, but when Young expanded to Carroll Gardens store in 2024, he chose to buy Caputo\u2019s bread, not just out of convenience (it\u2019s around the corner from the bakery) but because it reminded him of the bread he grew up eating. \u201cBuying from a small business \u2014 that\u2019s community building,\u201d Young says, \u201cgetting to know your butcher or your baker.\u201d<\/p>\n

The closing now leaves a hole in the neighborhood. Max Flatow<\/a>, a food photographer who grew up on Sackett Street, notes that Caputo\u2019s was the first place he was ever allowed to shop by himself. \u201cI\u2019d buy long chocolate-dipped sandwich cookies,\u201d Flatow remembers. He hid them under his bed for a secret snack before going to sleep. \u201cAny party, gathering, funeral, and celebration\u00a0\u2014 a box of Caputo\u2019s pastries were obligatory.\u201d<\/p>\n

A makeshift vigil has been established outside of the shop, with letters and drawings taped to the door and bouquets of flowers left on the ground. Inside, the terrazzo floors installed by Caputo\u2019s grandfather are still visible. Even if the oven had been replaceable \u2014 a big if \u2014 Caputo\u2019s is not.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n James Caputo, left, with his father, John.
\n Photo: Max Flatow\n <\/p>\n

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