Review: Common Bond's Pastries Are So Divine We're Driven to Rhyme
It's buttery, flaky, a cavernous treat,
Photos by Troy Fields Putting the croissant on a pedestal.
the type of thing no one can help but eat
when they see the whole tray piled high behind glass,
beckoning diners who gather en masse.
The puffy, crisp roll has a light outer shell
that begs to be sliced to reveal each round cell
created by yeast and what must be a ton
of butter, at least, in every one.
There's an art to the dough, called viennoiserie,
but most guests don't care, they need only see
the counter abounding with baked goods galore,
then they end up ordering quite a bit more
than intended. It's all cause their eyes filled with want
the moment they locked on the perfect croissant.
The chef made a bold claim long before
the bakery even opened its doors,
and since then he's dealt with a misquote he hurled:
He wants to run the best bakery in the world.
Though the jury's still out on the world domination,
the new shop has proved to be quite the sensation.
From the croissants that make food-lovers swoon
to the savory items, it's hard to lampoon
chef Shvartzapel's quote now that clearly, hands down,
Common Bond is truly the best bakery in town.
It opened to fanfare that somehow, magically
hasn't died down yet, leaving tragically
few chairs on the bright dining floor,
not designed for a line that's -- more often than not -- out the door.
People don't seem to mind, though, as they converse in line,
comparing notes on which dishes are fine,
while chef Shvartzapel observes from the kitchen,
pleased with his pastries and their knack for bewitching.
The same folks come in here day after day,
eager to feast on the veritable buffet
of croissants, macarons and the best, kouign amann,
and Shvartzapel waves to each, the gracious bakery Don.
Recently, while waiting in line with the crowd,
I heard someone near me wonder aloud,
"What should I get? It all sounds so great!"
"Excuse me," I said, "I'm sorry, I hate
to interrupt you, but here's what to get:
A kouign amann, a croissant, some bread...and yet,
savory is good, too..." I trailed off
while she looked at me slightly distraught.
"Sorry," I said. "I eat here a lot."
And so it is that I find myself staying up late,
computer in lap, scone on plate,
enjoying the fruits of Shvartzapel's labor
while I virtually put pen to paper
in an effort to capture pastry with words.
It's no easy task; this one ain't for the birds.
But I feel you should know of this food, so sublime.
Common Bond is so great, it drives me to rhyme.