New in New York: Two Buddies Are On a Roll at Croissanteria

By Mitch Broder

As long as you’re going to open a humble neighborhood bakery, you might as well make it a global destination for crescent rolls.

It’s unusual logic. But Selmo Ribeiro and David Simon wanted something unusual. And so far, their humble bakery and global destination are doing well.

Having determined that they wanted to launch some sort of restaurant, they went on to determine that Alphabet City could use a homey café. They then determined that — at least locally — the croissant was a short-changed pastry. With that determination, they launched Croissanteria.

It’s a plucky alternative to the nearby Starbucks and Dunkin’ Donuts. It has tiled walls, ceiling fans, an antique mirror, and an antique bench. It’s comfortable. It has what any good bakery-café should have. With the addition of croissants that Parisians have said rival the ones in Paris.

They include almond croissants, chocolate croissants, and almond-and-chocolate croissants, not to mention apricot croissants, and just plain croissants. Those varieties come in full-size or mini, but you have to go full-size if you want the peanut-butter-and-jelly or Nutella-and-banana croissants.

Croissanteria makes gourmet sandwiches, and they all come on croissants. They include French Ham, Italian Tuna, and Smokey Turkey. The Prosciutto di Parma has “Buffalo Mozzarella, Sliced Prosciutto, Tomato, Basil, EVOO, & Cracked Pepper.” You wouldn’t think that all of that could fit in a croissant.

Selmo and David gave me a couple of croissants, though without Nutella, Buffalo Mozzarella, peanut butter, or EVOO. They were perfect — soft and fluffy, with a thin crispy crust and a buttery flavor. And without any of that pesky croissant greasiness.

These were croissants that virtually any neighborhood could use. And not at all what you’d expect from guys with backgrounds in hamburgers and smoked fish.

David worked for his father’s Catskill Artisan Smokehouse — known as Catsmo — which sells smoked salmon and caviar to places around the city. Selmo founded the Nah Nah Bah café and lounge, a burger joint on the beach in Lagos, Portugal.

The guys had met at Northeastern University, where they were roommates. “The one thing we really had in common,” Selmo says, “was that we liked going out to eat.” He adds: “We always spoke about opening something together having to do with food.”

David first went to Catsmo and Selmo went to Lagos. But they stayed in touch, and Selmo came to New York every year. They decided to open a bakery, but with a twist, Selmo says: “If you’re in New York, the more niche you go in what you offer, the better you can make it.”

They’re happy with their success as a global destination. But they seem happiest with their success as a humble neighborhood bakery. “We’ve gotten such a friendly reception from the neighbors and the neighborhood,” David says. “We focus on this, and try to make the place special.”

One day, Selmo says, they had to close for a plumbing repair. One of the regulars emailed him, in fear that they wouldn’t come back.

“I don’t know how he got my personal email,” he says. “But those are the small things that are just awesome. Really, really awesome.”

Get flaky at Croissanteria, 68 Avenue A, between Fourth and Fifth streets, in New York City.

New in New York: At Baconery, Everyone's Taken With Bacon

By Mitch Broder

Wesley Klein’s plans for his bakery became clear to me when I asked him if he thought there was anything at all that doesn’t go well with bacon, and he said no.

“It works with everything,” he said. He named his place Baconery, and he meant it. Today he puts bacon in a few foods. Tomorrow he may put it in all foods.

So go now, while the menu is manageable, and decide for yourself how clever he was to open the city’s first all-bacon bakery. The response has been promising, he says: “People come in with their expectations too high and go out saying it was even better than they expected.”

Their choices include bacon cookies, bacon brownies, bacon blondies, bacon muffins, bacon croissants, and bacon pecan pie. Also bacon lollipops, bacon caramels, bacon marshmallow bars, chocolate-covered bacon, and gluten-free bacon macaroons.

If they really want to pig out, they can precede (or follow) the sweets with one (or more) of the bakery’s six bacon sandwiches. They range from the Miss Piggy (Grilled Bacon & Cheese) to the Porky Pig (Bacon, Egg, Lettuce, Cheese, Tomato, Avocado, Cucumber, Mayo). There's also a Wilbur.

Wesley’s idea was to address our need for sweet combined with salty. He got the idea while sopping up pancake syrup with a slab of bacon. He consulted with chefs, established his main ingredient’s versatility, launched Baconery online, and a year later opened the store.

He started small, but he went whole hog. It’s a hard-core bacon store. There are bacon slices on the walls. There are bacon rugs on the floor. There are bacon-colored sofas accented with bacon-print pillows, behind red-and-white-striped tables and baconian wood-topped stools.

Besides the food, he sells T-shirts that say things like “Feel Like Bacon Love,” along with items like bacon-themed platters and wallets, and actual gourmet bacon. And he has posted “The Rules of Bacon,” of which Number Four is: “Even the pigs like bacon. That’s a fact.”

It’s a curious obsession, especially curious since Wesley is Jewish, which he says only proves that Baconery welcomes customers of all faiths. And you can glimpse the obsessive future with a glimpse at the selections currently served from 6 to 8 p.m. as “Snack of the Night.”

Sunday’s snack, for example, is the Ultimate Bacon Mashed Potato Bowl. Wednesday’s is the Nutella Bacon Strawberry Crepe. Monday’s is Bacon Wrapped Pineapples; Tuesday’s is Bacon Wrapped Jalapeños. And Friday’s is apparently what it’s all leading to: Bacon Wrapped Bacon.

Get bacon for granted at Baconery, 911 Columbus Avenue, between 104^th and 105^th streets, in New York City.

Signing On: Is This Bakery Trying to Be Something It's Not?

By Mitch Broder

Some New Yorkers are still disturbed that Vesuvio still says “Vesuvio” when it’s been almost three years since it was Vesuvio.

I’m more disturbed that it sells chocolate-chip cookies for $2.50 and doesn’t fill them with enough chocolate chips.

Vesuvio was an Italian bread bakery that opened in 1920. It got famous for its Italian bread but more famous for its façade. It had the cute little storefront you imagine every little store in New York City once had. It still does. Except that the façade is now a façade.

In 2008 Vesuvio closed; in 2009 it reopened as a Birdbath Neighborhood Green Bakery. The people inside tell you it’s Birdbath. The window outside tells you it’s Vesuvio. Needless to say, this confuses tourists. Needful to say, it confuses New Yorkers.

Small clues to the new identity await the keen observer. For one thing, Birdbath doesn’t sell Italian bread. For another, what it does sell isn’t particularly Italian. But it doesn’t exactly go out of its way to set the customers straight. The confusion, as played out among patrons, is sometimes comical.

Yelp, for instance, lists Vesuvio as closed, but the “reviewers” are perplexed. One wrote: “I work right around the corner, and not only are they definitely NOT closed, but they still have the best cookies ever.” Another wrote: “Why does it say closed? I don’t understand. I had a cookie here on Friday.”

Some people commend the bakery owner for preserving the vintage storefront. Some people vilify him for exploiting the vintage storefront. Jeremiah Moss of Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York distills the conflict: “… in the presence of these preservations and simulations,” he writes, “we’re not sure what to feel.”

He’s right. I like seeing the old store the way it was, but it mocks me because it doesn’t deliver what it seems to promise.

Just like the cookie. Sure, it’s crunchy outside and chewy inside. But without the imagined load of chips, it leaves you a little empty.

Evaluate the Birdbath Bakery at 160 Prince Street, between West Broadway and Thompson Street, in Manhattan.