“Chickens, chickens — treats for chickens!” chirps Chrissy Traore to her unfazed flock in Cairo. “They’re like, ‘You’re teasing us, you don’t have anything in your hand.’”

On a normal day, if Traore held out a hunk of baguette, a rustle of fifty or so chickens would take the bait, emerging from the bushes, or the coop Traore playfully calls the Taj Ma-Chicken. But today, not surprisingly they’re holding out, and you would too, if you’d grown accustomed to the delicious, wood-fired loaves typically at Chrissy’s fingertips.

“Ben [Chrissy’s husband] does the bread,” says Traore. “And that’s really the cornerstone to what we do.”

See and Be Kitchen is an unassuming joint along Route 145, that Chrissy Traore opened with her husband, Ben Salif Traore in 2019. Next to their squat counter-service cafe lies a shipping con- tainer bakery from which Ben cranks hand-rolled croissants, walnut cinnamon buns, and Afro-spiced hand pockets alongside wood-fired baguettes, ar- borio loaves, and focaccia.

These are destination carbs. Ben cut his teeth as head vienoissier at Bien Cuit, in Brooklyn, after all.

“It’s like riding a wave,” says Chrissy of Ben’s baking finesse, thanks to their custom wood-fired bread oven which they heat to 850 degrees before letting the fire die, pulling out the coals, and baking as the temperature falls. “You have to find the crest and jump on, and then get to the descent as you’re baking.”

The bread itself is worthy bait, especially because Chrissy’s cooking is something to behold. “We don’t have a menu,” says Chrissy. She keeps two heavyweights in the lineup: grilled cheese and a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, but the rest of the dishes are new every week based on fresh ingredients. “I just cook for people what I would cook for my family, or what I would cook if I had no restrictions, which I don’t have anymore because I’m in charge.”

Endless possibility is how their story began, at Bed-Stuy’s cult-favorite pizzeria and bakery, Saraghina, where Chrissy was the pizza chef for years. “Ben was the head baker and that’s where we met, and courted, and fell in love, and the whole shebanga-banga,” she says. At Saraghina, Chrissy went wild with pizza specials that changed twice a week, using whatever was seasonal and local, for over two years—that’s 200 different pizza combos (if you’re keeping count).

“I don’t run out of ideas,” says Chrissy, who doesn’t seem to run out of steam, either. Her culinary background is studded with stints at Brooklyn’s Roberta’s and Bread Love, not to mention upstate favorites like Accord’s Westwind Orchard & Cidery and Round Top’s Glen Falls House.

In her stainless steel kitchen, where Chrissy cooks on a vintage Wolfe stove, repeat guests are always in for a surprise. “They come in and they’re like, holy crap whatever it was that you gave me last week, I need it again — and I’m like, well it’s gone, so you’re going to get what I have this week, and you’re going to like it.”

This shared love of food — and sharing food with others — culminates at their growing property, where possibility continues to run wild. Formerly home to the Dixie Motel, the Traore’s are slowly, patiently building out the experience.

Visitors can wander the wooded grounds that Chrissy and Ben call home, one that includes their son, Cameron, five guinea fowls, two cats, Mr. Dudley (their dog), and those fifty chickens. Amongst fruit trees and berry bushes, their low- pull garden flourishes with everything from radishes, kale and broccoli to tomatoes, eggplants and cucumbers. There’s an old motel, which they plan to turn into a commercial bakery whenever the time is right.

As a young family with a growing team, you get the feeling that Chrissy and Ben are consciously shifting away from the industry’s pitfalls and inequalities in favor of something small and steady. “You know, it’s just basic respect for each other,” she says. Their team sits down together for lunch, eating the same food they’re serving customers (“You can’t tell people they should buy it, but you don’t deserve it,” she says). They keep the hours humane: they’re only open in the daytime, not over- committing by offering dinner service.

Oh, and they’re closed on Sundays, too. “I have people all day on the property going ‘can I get some bread?’” says Chrissy. “And I’m going, hmm no, sorry, it’s mommy’s day, I get to drink wine and garden!”

By Keith Flanagan

Photography by Peter Crosby