Here’s a hundred word review of the bakery where my brother Jake is a pastry chef. It’s called Sandbox and it’s in Bernal Heights in San Francisco and if you live within a 50 mile radius and you don’t have gluten issues you should stop by and eat everything.
From downtown screaming tunnel winds carry me into the Mission, a hike up Bernal hill into the Sun day, golden wheat becomes golden again at the Sandbox. Brother aproned runs down the case, impossible decision awaits. Sage marmelade brioche with yuzu glaze, morning bun, for friend a croissant with valrhona chocolate batons (sorry dried cranberry poppyseed cream cheese challah); ethiopian coffee. On a bench out front the brioche soft with heat glistens, tangs, offers wisdom, disappears. Coffee half-full, it’s Sunday, tearing apart morning bun, strips of cinnamon, fingers sparkle, the butter heart melts. Oishii katta des, arrigato gozaimashita. Go now!
Heaps of Nimbus 