One of my favorite pandemic memories involves watching a basket packed with sourdough and croissants lowered to me by rope out the window of a third story East Village loft. Admittedly, I was chasing a unique curbside pickup story — and photo-op — that day, expecting to find a plucky cottage kitchen banking on the covid-era sourdough baking trend.
Instead, I was introduced to Izola Bakery, a plucky cottage kitchen that approached the baking hobby with artist's eye for perfection, and would become a sensation. Business and life partners Jeffrey Lamont Brown and Jennifer Chen spent their "great pause" channeling creative energy into the mastery of wild yeast sourdough and Paris-style croissants, fine-tuning batch after batch out of the back of Brown's dormant photography studio. Before I knew it, that studio would fill with tables, and customers, and employees, and Izola would become blow up to the point Yelp named it America's best bakery 2022.
Nevertheless, late last year Izola abruptly closed, having reached the limits of its homegrown origin story. Originally billed as a two-month kitchen renovation, the closure instead led to a long move into new home, and last month Izola returned as the latest tenant of the distinctive indoor/outdoor restaurant venue overlooking the East Village green space, Fault Line Park.
Once a fine place to grab a beer, the property now proves an excellent place to tap sample the bakers' ever-expanding menu of breads and pastries. It's the same dog-friendly park view, but a tick family-friendlier. Banks of shiny new commercial ovens stand where there used to be beer taps. And rather than the usual glass counter bakery display, Izola has a display of its wares atop the counter, modeling whatever treats may soon show up warm at your table.
You'll see mostly croissants, morning buns, and sourdough loaves, the top of each branded with the Izola logo. In addition to regular ($12) and seeded multigrain ($15), I found combination breads including olive-pecan ($20) and cherry-parmesan ($22.50). Rather than buy four or five loaves, you can go for a three in a half-loaf sourdough flight ($24), available with salt, jam, and/or rich French butter.
Speaking of butter, it's "96 gossamer layers of butter from Normandy" that go into Izola's wide and interesting range of laminated dough morning buns and croissants. We'll get into just how wide and interesting these may get, because every visit should begin with a plain croissant ($7). The thing hits the paradoxical croissant ideal: at once crispy, soft, and flaky; buttery yet light. It's well worth standing in line here for nothing more than a croissant and coffee.
And a line what you'll likely find. East Villagers remember how good they had it when Izola was serving up their daily bread, and the rest of the city is gearing to show up besides. And what they will find more of every month is new flavors. During the months Izola was closed, Brown and Chen continued to experiment, and developed 27 new bread and pastry flavors.
So in addition to a succulent Tahitian vanilla knot ($6), I tried a hibiscus tequila knot ($9), offering the same vanilla flavor with hibiscus, tequila, mint, pineapple, jalapeno and lemon, topped with candied jalapeño and lime zest. This one has special significance to Izola's founders: Brown tells me he and Chen were drinking hibiscus tequila cocktails when they first fell in love.
Already, customers may enjoy Izola's decadent, twice-baked almond croissant stuffed with melted single origin French chocolate ($12), and notorious Moroccan black olive chocolate croissant ($9), distinctive with black stripes and olive more earthy than briny, to lend a compelling sweet-savory balance.
However, every month Izola will debut one of its new, special flavors. Expect a carnitas croissant, modeled after local tacos; a bibimbap croissant, filled with Korean gochujang chili sauce and bulgogi beef; and a ramen croissant, stuffed with noodles and served with a cup of miso broth. They all sound super outrageous, but I've long since learned not to doubt these guys. If you have any doubts, you can always stick to their croissant dough pizza.
One of my favorite pandemic memories involves watching a basket packed with sourdough and croissants lowered to me by rope out the window of a third story East Village loft. Admittedly, I was chasing a unique curbside pickup story — and photo-op — that day, expecting to find a plucky cottage kitchen banking on the covid-era sourdough baking trend.
Instead, I was introduced to Izola Bakery, a plucky cottage kitchen that approached the baking hobby with artist's eye for perfection, and would become a sensation. Business and life partners Jeffrey Lamont Brown and Jennifer Chen spent their "great pause" channeling creative energy into the mastery of wild yeast sourdough and Paris-style croissants, fine-tuning batch after batch out of the back of Brown's dormant photography studio. Before I knew it, that studio would fill with tables, and customers, and employees, and Izola would become blow up to the point Yelp named it America's best bakery 2022.
Nevertheless, late last year Izola abruptly closed, having reached the limits of its homegrown origin story. Originally billed as a two-month kitchen renovation, the closure instead led to a long move into new home, and last month Izola returned as the latest tenant of the distinctive indoor/outdoor restaurant venue overlooking the East Village green space, Fault Line Park.
Once a fine place to grab a beer, the property now proves an excellent place to tap sample the bakers' ever-expanding menu of breads and pastries. It's the same dog-friendly park view, but a tick family-friendlier. Banks of shiny new commercial ovens stand where there used to be beer taps. And rather than the usual glass counter bakery display, Izola has a display of its wares atop the counter, modeling whatever treats may soon show up warm at your table.
You'll see mostly croissants, morning buns, and sourdough loaves, the top of each branded with the Izola logo. In addition to regular ($12) and seeded multigrain ($15), I found combination breads including olive-pecan ($20) and cherry-parmesan ($22.50). Rather than buy four or five loaves, you can go for a three in a half-loaf sourdough flight ($24), available with salt, jam, and/or rich French butter.
Speaking of butter, it's "96 gossamer layers of butter from Normandy" that go into Izola's wide and interesting range of laminated dough morning buns and croissants. We'll get into just how wide and interesting these may get, because every visit should begin with a plain croissant ($7). The thing hits the paradoxical croissant ideal: at once crispy, soft, and flaky; buttery yet light. It's well worth standing in line here for nothing more than a croissant and coffee.
And a line what you'll likely find. East Villagers remember how good they had it when Izola was serving up their daily bread, and the rest of the city is gearing to show up besides. And what they will find more of every month is new flavors. During the months Izola was closed, Brown and Chen continued to experiment, and developed 27 new bread and pastry flavors.
So in addition to a succulent Tahitian vanilla knot ($6), I tried a hibiscus tequila knot ($9), offering the same vanilla flavor with hibiscus, tequila, mint, pineapple, jalapeno and lemon, topped with candied jalapeño and lime zest. This one has special significance to Izola's founders: Brown tells me he and Chen were drinking hibiscus tequila cocktails when they first fell in love.
Already, customers may enjoy Izola's decadent, twice-baked almond croissant stuffed with melted single origin French chocolate ($12), and notorious Moroccan black olive chocolate croissant ($9), distinctive with black stripes and olive more earthy than briny, to lend a compelling sweet-savory balance.
However, every month Izola will debut one of its new, special flavors. Expect a carnitas croissant, modeled after local tacos; a bibimbap croissant, filled with Korean gochujang chili sauce and bulgogi beef; and a ramen croissant, stuffed with noodles and served with a cup of miso broth. They all sound super outrageous, but I've long since learned not to doubt these guys. If you have any doubts, you can always stick to their croissant dough pizza.
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