It’s been around for going on ten years, but I’d never once seen the place before making my first order at the counter last week. East of Birdland, south of the Montgomery-Gibbs airport, up the hill from the old stadium site — it’s not that Bear Buns Bakery sits in a remote location, exactly. It’s in central Serra Mesa, circumscribed by most of the city’s major freeways. But it’s out of the way, in the sense that, with so many ways to drive past the mostly residential neighborhood, you’d pretty much have to live there to drive through.
Unless you’re emphatically in the mood for, say, a cinnamon roll. They’re very good: baked from scratch and, unless you request otherwise, coated with a thick glaze still practically frothing from being whipped up in the kitchen that morning.
The cinnamon rolls ($4.95) are definitely part of the reason I keep finding a line of people waiting to order. At first, I assume they must all live nearby. This is their neighborhood coffee shop, of course they’d line up as regulars. But then there’s a couple visiting from France, deliberating over all the pastries on display inside the glass counter: the glistening pecan sticky buns ($5.25), the gluten-free carrot cake ($4.35), or an indulgent bread pudding made from leftover cinnamon rolls ($3.95).
The family-owned bakery sits in a small, yellow, standalone building, with a glassed-in storefront and an A-frame kitchen in the back. It’s an anachronism, given the homogeny of polished metal, mixed-use structures we’ve all grown accustomed to. And though Bear Buns has yet to finish its first decade in business, it too seems like something out of time; a throwback to neighborhood bakery counters from before such places touted high contrast cupcakes and neon-lit aphorisms embedded in leafy Instagram walls.
I’m particularly impressed by the assorted muffins ($3.85). I rather stodgily stick to the classic blueberry, but more intriguing options include cranberry-orange, brown butter banana nut, and maple pumpkin.
However, I remain lukewarm on the coffee. That’s one area where the advent of contemporary specialty coffee shops have ruined me for old school establishments. But if you’re not snobby, if you take it with cream and sugar, as flavored lattes, or blended frappes, you’ll find plenty to caffeinate you, all from organic roast.
And if you’re looking for savory options, consider how much time you have. A selection of ready-made croissant sandwiches ($4.25) will quickly get you the likes of ham and swiss, or turkey and pepper jack. But if you want one of the shop’s eggy breakfast sandwiches, expect a wait. They, too, are made from scratch, whether you stick with the house roll — a rounded bun made savory by Italian seasoning — or opt for a sandwich built on focaccia.
Easiest is to order the basic egg and cheese for $5.75, then add your choice of bacon, sausage, ham, or avocado for about a buck each. But if you like something more involved, I got a kick out of the Bella ($7) which pairs bacon and provolone with spinach, sundried tomato, and pesto. I like it a little better on focaccia than a roll, but it’s tough to go wrong here, in this less-traveled corner of Serra Mesa, where the buns are best not bare.
It’s been around for going on ten years, but I’d never once seen the place before making my first order at the counter last week. East of Birdland, south of the Montgomery-Gibbs airport, up the hill from the old stadium site — it’s not that Bear Buns Bakery sits in a remote location, exactly. It’s in central Serra Mesa, circumscribed by most of the city’s major freeways. But it’s out of the way, in the sense that, with so many ways to drive past the mostly residential neighborhood, you’d pretty much have to live there to drive through.
Unless you’re emphatically in the mood for, say, a cinnamon roll. They’re very good: baked from scratch and, unless you request otherwise, coated with a thick glaze still practically frothing from being whipped up in the kitchen that morning.
The cinnamon rolls ($4.95) are definitely part of the reason I keep finding a line of people waiting to order. At first, I assume they must all live nearby. This is their neighborhood coffee shop, of course they’d line up as regulars. But then there’s a couple visiting from France, deliberating over all the pastries on display inside the glass counter: the glistening pecan sticky buns ($5.25), the gluten-free carrot cake ($4.35), or an indulgent bread pudding made from leftover cinnamon rolls ($3.95).
The family-owned bakery sits in a small, yellow, standalone building, with a glassed-in storefront and an A-frame kitchen in the back. It’s an anachronism, given the homogeny of polished metal, mixed-use structures we’ve all grown accustomed to. And though Bear Buns has yet to finish its first decade in business, it too seems like something out of time; a throwback to neighborhood bakery counters from before such places touted high contrast cupcakes and neon-lit aphorisms embedded in leafy Instagram walls.
I’m particularly impressed by the assorted muffins ($3.85). I rather stodgily stick to the classic blueberry, but more intriguing options include cranberry-orange, brown butter banana nut, and maple pumpkin.
However, I remain lukewarm on the coffee. That’s one area where the advent of contemporary specialty coffee shops have ruined me for old school establishments. But if you’re not snobby, if you take it with cream and sugar, as flavored lattes, or blended frappes, you’ll find plenty to caffeinate you, all from organic roast.
And if you’re looking for savory options, consider how much time you have. A selection of ready-made croissant sandwiches ($4.25) will quickly get you the likes of ham and swiss, or turkey and pepper jack. But if you want one of the shop’s eggy breakfast sandwiches, expect a wait. They, too, are made from scratch, whether you stick with the house roll — a rounded bun made savory by Italian seasoning — or opt for a sandwich built on focaccia.
Easiest is to order the basic egg and cheese for $5.75, then add your choice of bacon, sausage, ham, or avocado for about a buck each. But if you like something more involved, I got a kick out of the Bella ($7) which pairs bacon and provolone with spinach, sundried tomato, and pesto. I like it a little better on focaccia than a roll, but it’s tough to go wrong here, in this less-traveled corner of Serra Mesa, where the buns are best not bare.
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