Arsicault Bakery has been called, “One of the Bay Area’s most acclaimed bakeries,” the “king of kings,” and the “kind of croissant you write love letters about” (SF Chronicle). Yet I would dare to propose a new description of San Francisco’s best croissant: overrated.
The buttery smell wafting through the morning air was inaccurate compared to the lackluster bite of croissant that made me not want to crown it, nor write a love letter. Instead, it made my eyebrows wrinkle: this was the life-altering croissant I had waited 45 minutes to try?
Other than the croissants, Arsicault Bakery has a reputation for their long lines on Saturday mornings, often spanning a block and a half. I arrived as the thirty-fourth mouth watered person in line, and no less than three minutes later, seven more people had joined in the line. I thought arriving at 9:30am was acceptable, but talking with other people in line, some of them had been waiting since 8. Now, croissants are amazing, but 8am? On a weekend? I was skeptical. At 10:10am, we finally entered the bustling bakery, and were quickly handed our bag, receipt and a tight smile, then hustled out the front door a minute later.
But, for that minute, as a croissant enthusiast and baker myself, I was in pastry heaven. The soft, buttery scent wafting out the door was just a taste of the delicious aromas engulfing the store. As we left, I took one last deep breath, enjoying the savory scent. As I exited the bakery, I looked back at the seemingly unmoved line. My anticipation rose. At a glance, the croissant was perfectly flakey, golden brown, light to the touch with sinfully pronounced lamentation. I took my first bite. It was crispy, yet soft, the top shedding a boggling amount of flake onto my lap. Deceptively delicate and pillowy; for this bite alone, it was worth it.
Although, as I kept eating… Bite. Pause. Bite. Pause… I was increasingly underwhelmed. It lacked butter – the same butter I practically tasted wafting through the air in line. And it did not melt in my mouth, instead making me feel guilty about speed eating a croissant on a Saturday morning. Now, as a self-proclaimed croissant enthusiast, this was a good croissant – great even – considering the price of $5, but was this bite of heaven really worthy of all the titles it brings? No! And while I haven’t tried every croissant in the U.S., I believe that the title of “best croissant in the nation” should go to a croissant that makes even the French weep. I am half French, and was not, in fact, anywhere near weeping.
The perfect croissant is a mix of buttery, flakey and soft, and while Arsicault Bakery checked off two of my three ticks, the buttery part is what makes a croissant the best. I love croissants – all pastries, really – but would I have waited in a 45 minute long line for this croissant again? No. Ultimately, while a rave-worthy croissant, this flakey pastry is as the title states: overrated.
Diamond-studded reputation aside, the hunt is still on for a croissant worthy of more praise, mouthwatering and French tears than Arsicault Bakery.
