Short and compact with the comfortable roundness of someone who spends a lifetime by warm ovens. Her hands are perpetually dusted with flour and faintly scarred at the fingertips from years of scoring loaves. She moves with the swift decisiveness of a person who juggles trays, pans, and children with equal ease. When she laughs her whole face rearranges into an open, conspiratorial map of expression. Unexpected element: she always carries a tight, tiny braid of silver thread braided into the fringe of her hair that looks out of place among the flour and soot, and when she is nervous she twists that thread between her fingers.