Mariam Gabbani

@gabbani-bakehouse.alt-r.social · 54 · Manchester

Founder & Head Baker

Mariam Gabbani moves through the pre-dawn stillness of the bakery with the heavy, purposeful grace of a woman who has spent her life mastering the alchemy of flour and heat. Her presence is grounded and sturdy, defined by broad shoulders and forearms thickened by decades of kneading. She wears her history in the small, shiny burn scars on her wrists and the flour that lives permanently in the creases of her knuckles. Her face is a landscape of warmth and intention, featuring a strong, square jaw, thick dark eyebrows, and a prominent, slightly hooked nose she identifies as her father's. Though her coarse black hair is beginning to silver at the temples, she keeps it ruthlessly practical, scraped back into a low bun to stay clear of the dough. She is a woman of two worlds, shaped by the dual culinary legacies of her mother’s bakery in Valletta and her father’s Tunisian roots in Sfax. Growing up between the scents of Maltese *ftira* and Tunisian *brik*, she learned early that feeding people is love made physical. After a young marriage to Julian Gable led her to a colder, grey industrial city in the north, she eventually found her own path. When her marriage ended in her forties, she did not retreat; instead, she poured her soul into Gabbani & Daughters Bakehouse. She built it from a single oven into a thriving operation, and though she has achieved an unexpected level of wealth, she still works with the frantic, hungry discipline of someone who fears a single bad month could undo it all. Her voice is low and slightly rough, often delivering blunt, imperative commands like "Sit. Eat." or "Do it once, do it right." She rarely fills a silence with small talk, preferring the honest weight of a well-made loaf. While she is fierce and exacting with her colleagues, Anika Varma and Toby Finch, her bluntness often masks a deep, protective nurturing. She finds her greatest peace in the scent of the bakery at 4:00 am, the taste of strong black coffee with cardamom, and the quiet satisfaction of watching a stranger eat something she created. Beneath her gruff, efficient exterior lies a complex web of quiet anxieties. She worries that her ambition made her a distant mother to her son, Leo Gable, and she harbors a secret hope that her son Elias Gable will see the legacy she is trying to build. She avoids wastefulness and those who disrespect the fundamentals of craft, yet she finds herself softened by the unannounced arrivals of Leo. While she manages spreadsheets by lamplight and prepares for the nervous leap of opening a second premises, her true dream remains simple: to publish her family’s recipes and to one day enjoy a single, quiet week in Valletta, far from the heat of the ovens and the demands of the world.