It might be the country's only all-original, anthracite coal-fired, Italian-built brick oven.

And the best part is that it's still in use.Everything about the hearth is special, including its location. Many say it's difficult to find.Yes, local folks know where it is. But outsiders might have trouble accessing it.It's tucked away on a hillside, inside a small, white, wood frame structure that's protected it for 120 years.The place is visible from Route 309 south in Tamaqua and its official address is 122 Railroad St.But the narrow lane is actually a separate street parallel to Railroad. Locals call it Pleasant Row.On top of that, the bakery is situated at a dead-end, where the one-lane street becomes a dirt walking path too narrow for a car.It was there when, about 1895 or so, George D'Allesio had an idea to supply the town with daily bread.D'Allesio commissioned Italian artisans to build a firebrick bread oven adjacent to the railroad tracks and just steps away from the 1874 train station.The dome-shaped oven measures about 22 by 24 feet.It gets heat from a vortex of hot, fan-forced air shot from a coal fire."We use buckwheat, hard anthracite coal," says baker Larry Padora.Even the oven's temperature gauge is rare.It's an original hot blast pyrometer produced by a famous maker, August Zaubitz Manufacturer, New York City.The 1890s firm was noted for its capability to measure temperatures up to 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit.Interestingly, the fire box and its intense flames are situated beside the oven, not beneath. Once fired, the cavern remains warm for days.The oven has never been altered except for maintenance."Jim Whitehead and I repaired the bricks and relined the firebox," says Padora. "And we had the grates rewelded by Vic Baddick and his grandson."Changed handsD'Allesio operated the oven for several years before 1911, then leased it to Odorosio Sozio and sons who ran the business until the 1920s.At that point it was taken over by one of Sozio's helpers, Emedia Zaraca, who baked bread there until his death in 1955.Zaraca's wife, Anna, and son, Robert, continued for another year before turning it over to Lorenzo Guiseppe "Mickey" Padora, who credits Zaraca for teaching him the technique.Padora, having baked bread since age 13, operated the oven until 2013, stepping aside at age 86.Along the way, Padora's son Larry, 41, an electrician by trade, picked up the skills, allowing for a smooth transition within the family.Today, Larry makes anywhere from 250 to 300 loaves a day, assisted by Duane Allen, 57, Tamaqua.Old stylePadora uses a simple bread-baking technique that dates back to the time of the Egyptians, 20th century B.C.He uses four basic ingredients: flour, water, yeast and a bit of salt.Each day, Padora begins with 50-pound bags of North Dakota Mill Bakers Flour, a product dating back to 1922, and then adds measured ingredients to the mixer.After mixing, the dough is shaped and molded by hand, creating individual loaves placed in long wooden racks to proof, or rise.The loaves are separated by tails, or sheets of canvas.Before noon, Padora transfers the proofed loaves to the oven, maybe 300 or 400, where they bake in shifts of about 10 minutes each.Padora doesn't use a timer.He instinctively knows when the loaves are ready, browned to a turn.At just the right moment, he reaches deep into the orange-hot cave using wooden spatula-type paddles 25 feet long.Out comes hard-crust Italian bread with soft, light texture inside.Still very warm, actually hot, individual loaves are soon placed into white bags for immediate delivery, a process that takes all afternoon.Only Padora, whose hands have become toughened and acclimated to the heat, can handle the hot loaves. Others would suffer searing burns to their palms.One breakThe oven has operated more than a century with only one break. It closed for one year during the Korean conflict.The historic operation had a minor scare on June 11, 1998, when the bakery was forced to close two days due to equipment failure.The bin on the dough mixer, a motor-driven 1913 Peerless Bread Machine from Sidney, Ohio, had worn through from years of use.Luckily, a family friend, the late John "Sonny" Trudich Jr., helped remove the worn bin and directed Padora to Nestor's Iron Works, a Tamaqua fabricator.There, a thick steel band, six feet long, was manufactured and shaped to form a new bin.There are at least two components of the operation that have never failed.One is the historic brick oven.The other, according to 88-year-old Mickey, are the loyal customers."We made a lot of friends over the years," says Mickey, who still stops in daily at the bakery.In those small confines, he saw families grow up.Each generation would bring in their children to see the unique brick oven and say hello to the Padoras."They stayed with me until they died," Mickey says. "I met a lot of nice people."He speaks of friendly, familiar faces and priceless images of days past. Of families, some long gone.Mickey cherishes those special years spent at the oven.He carries fond thoughts deep inside. He relishes meaningful moments, memories he wouldn't trade for the world.At the end of the day, bread can be much more than simply flour, yeast and water.And an old, old oven can generate a lot of warmth.