If You Need a Croissant, Don’t Miss Wayfarer Bread

As I got toward the end of my trek in San Diego, I found myself craving a croissant. I won’t lie and say ‘at the last minute I found this place as I was leaving the sanctuary of Ron Burgundy.’

Rating:

★★★★★

Pros

The Croissants are divine

Cons

The sandwich was good but lacking

As I got toward the end of my trek in San Diego, I found myself craving a croissant. I won’t lie and say ‘at the last minute I found this place as I was leaving the sanctuary of Ron Burgundy.’ But I did find it odd that they put bread in the name. Wayfarer would have been enough but the ‘Bread’ part showed confidence. That’s a strong statement. The sign to me above screamed, “We love nature and bread.” So I thought I’d give them a chance to back that up. Don’t let the rating fool you. The croissants alone are worth the visit. I feel like I need to explain the grade.

That Heavenly Smell

I needed a pick-me-up after a long day of taking pictures in La Jolla and visiting the Zoo parking — I was not prepared for the Saturday horde of children and parents white-knuckling baby carriages. Ok, it wasn’t all that bad but a sunny day wasn’t great for an impromptu Zoo trip.

Nevertheless, I. Needed. Gluten.

A Croissant with a coffee was the way to go. A coffee as black as my soul and a buttery, flaky cone to counteract it; the ying to its yang. Thus, Wayfarer Bread.

Right after crossing the hippy threshold and onto the small, wooden patio deck, I got right behind a dude in line just wanting some coffee. I know because he explained he was dying slowly without it. The line went quickly from woody outside to a woody inside, sporting a few large ovens in the back. There was no seating. Only a counter with a handful of happy people ready to take our orders. Their optimism breathed new life into my un-caffeinated line buddy, apparently on death’s door. Then came the scented wall of glorious, baked bread. Not a cloud of sugar, like many a bakery I’ve walked into that drown the senses but the smell of honest-to-goodness freshly baked bread. I wished it was fresh croissant but beggars can’t be choosers.

Bakery Masquerading As A Sandwich Shop

As it was later in the day and my previous meal was light, my short time in line made me realize I wanted a sandwich. That and the word ‘Sandwich’ was hanging above the happy Wayfarer Bread People. They had a few artisan sandwiches of the day that were appetizing — one with roast beef that looked like I wanted to crawl into it, pull back the meat covers, and sleep in it for the night — but, I needed to see what made them tick. What the employees thought was worth the trip. So along with the coffee, the ginormously authentic French croissant — it was the Frenchiest (Frenchiest? Yeah, it fits) — the happy fella handed me The Benji.

I love any and ~~all~~ most food. Plant-based, Fruit-based, Meat-based, it doesn’t matter. And though I don’t player hate or discriminate, I only have one bare-bones requirement for me to be convinced it was worth my time: It needs to be delicious.

Tasty is too small of a word. Delicious is memorable. Delicious makes you order the same thing again the same day from the same place because you can’t wait for that dopamine hit after your tongue remembers that favor. This vegan sandwich ain’t it.

I moseyed — yes, I can mosey — around the San Diego roundabout and found a table to unwrap the sandwich with excitement. I wasn’t Oliver-Twist-hungry but, you know, I could eat. As you can see below, that aptly fits the definition. Not too big, not too small, but just right.

The Benji’s bread was an incredible, fresh, and complicated (pretentious I know) sourdough. The crust was crunchy and the center dough had bounce, but the favor was immediately crushed by the fillings. One flavor barely complimented the other. The red onion and arugula were nice, but the cucumber simply didn’t need to be there. The goat cheese was good, but the herbs in it clashed with the arugula. The avocado helped add some fatty heaf right behind the cheese but, once again, clashed now with the goat cheese. A more flavorful and tangy avocado medley to replace the avocado may have saved it, however, I’m here to review not suggest. The sandwich wasn’t bad at all. I just can’t seem to remember the flavor. Aside from the fact that it definitely wasn’t worth the $10 plus I spent on it, the sandwich wasn’t memorable. Maybe they just had an off day but I can’t in good conscience recommend it. However, I’m willing to give them another shot when I come back after the home run I had later. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The following black coffee was fresh and pipping hot, but essentially the same as Starbucks. I love Starbucks. I love black coffee. I love the combination of the two so I’ll never complain about it being like my go-to coffee. I also won’t rave about the flavor either. However, the croissant! Sweet buttery Jesus, this croissant… I got shivers just thinking about it.

One Croissant to Rule Them All

Butter. It’s what drives us all. Ok, completely untrue, but it should and pastries are proof of why. When you give pastries tender love and care — along with a metric ton of butter — they flourish into joyous artery-clogging masterpieces. Full disclosure. I’ve never been to France and have never had an official Croissant (pronounced Qwa-Saawn in your deepest All That’s Pierre Escargot accent) but this has to be as close as I’ve ever gotten. I’ve been to incredible bakeries and the chain Le Pain Quotidien is pretty good as well. But this is haw-haw-haaaw magnifique! Yes, in Pierre’s accent again.

I know I went HAM on the sandwich (ham sandwich… how punny of me lol) but this is the total opposite. This lives up to their clean, crisp, and equally subtle sign that vibrantly hangs at their opening. With a flick of the crust, you can hear that beautiful hollow but light echo-like fresh bread right out the of oven. And this was not fresh out of the oven, but boy, was it fresh. The inside was pillow-soft and buttery, with a hint of tang. And it felt like it was half the size of a football! It was big, even for a croissant — roughly five to six inches long. Breaking it apart was messy as hell as it should be. Flakes everywhere and in giant, solid pieces.

Although this may seem like a big to-do about a croissant, Wayfarer Bread earned it. If you love French pastries like I do and find immense comfort in a little joy with your coffee, I suggest stopping by. You’ll come for the coffee, but you’ll stay for the Qwa-Saawn.