Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
I like Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse and I cannot lie
Vista bakery turns out to be serious about Leige waffles and laminated pastries
A leige waffle sandwich, with fried egg, bacon, tomato, and basil
Video:
FEAST!: I like Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse and I cannot lie
Am I above driving an hour just because a new bakery in Vista has a funny name? I am not.
To be fair, the place is called Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse, which manages to be a pun about butts, gluten sensitivity, and Roman gladiators. Okay, maybe not the gladiators, but your mind can go all kinds of places in the car for an hour.
Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse, new to Vista
When I got there, I found a sunny little shop with a glass counter stuffed with pastries, many of which, it turn, were stuffed with goodness, such as vanilla custard or chocolate hazelnut spread.
It all started with Leige Waffles, according to a sign next to the Leige waffles in the case. The Leige style suggests they're made with beet sugar, which crystalizes the crust to make these handheld waffles pretty crispy. You can order them plain ($5), but when you're in a pace called Glutenus Maximus, there's bound to be a more indulgent way to eat it, and I found that in the Leige waffle sandwich: bacon, fried egg, tomato, and basil ($12).
Bacon ends were hanging out of the front of this thing like squid tentacles, and it was pretty tasty, if you're a fan of the sweet plus savory bacon motif.
My preference would be the ham & cheese croissant ($7). Or better yet, the jalapeño, ham, and cheese croissant ($7). Because, beside Leige waffles, this bakery's other specialty turned out to be pastries made with buttery, laminated dough, beginning with a reasonably good plain (a.k.a. butter) croissant ($5).
A plain, or "butter croissant"
The laminated dough stuff only gets more interesting as you drift right in the glass case, and croissants give way to morning buns and cruffins—which are sort of like cinnamon rolls and koign-ammans, respectively. However, pay close attention to this section, because beyond cinnamon and sugar, these treats are baked with daily variations such as tiramisu, cardamom and vanilla, and even spanakopita.
I did drive a long way, so I wasn't going to leave without trying a donut, even if they did cost 5 bucks (or about 4 bucks more than a regular donut). To be fair, a blueberry cheesecake filled donut might go for $2 or $3 some donut shops, so I didn't feel too bad about my order, nor the fact I gulped it down fast. I probably should have savored that one.
A chocolate hazelnut babka, morning bun, and blueberry cheesecake filled donut
And I probably should have hidden the $10 chocolate hazelnut babka from the kids when I got home. That's a pull-apart sweet brioche loaf with a rich vein of chocolate hazelnut spread. Too big to finish in one sitting (having already eaten a waffle sandwich, croissant, filled donut, and morning bun), I'd hoped it would keep to pair with my next morning's coffee. Instead it made for an after school snack. Our middle schoolers may not have been appreciative enough how far I went to bring them this treat, but at least they appreciated the Maximus joke.
Here's something you might be interested in.
I like Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse and I cannot lie
Vista bakery turns out to be serious about Leige waffles and laminated pastries
I like Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse and I cannot lie
Vista bakery turns out to be serious about Leige waffles and laminated pastries
A leige waffle sandwich, with fried egg, bacon, tomato, and basil
Video:
FEAST!: I like Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse and I cannot lie
Am I above driving an hour just because a new bakery in Vista has a funny name? I am not.
To be fair, the place is called Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse, which manages to be a pun about butts, gluten sensitivity, and Roman gladiators. Okay, maybe not the gladiators, but your mind can go all kinds of places in the car for an hour.
Glutenus Maximus Bakehouse, new to Vista
When I got there, I found a sunny little shop with a glass counter stuffed with pastries, many of which, it turn, were stuffed with goodness, such as vanilla custard or chocolate hazelnut spread.
It all started with Leige Waffles, according to a sign next to the Leige waffles in the case. The Leige style suggests they're made with beet sugar, which crystalizes the crust to make these handheld waffles pretty crispy. You can order them plain ($5), but when you're in a pace called Glutenus Maximus, there's bound to be a more indulgent way to eat it, and I found that in the Leige waffle sandwich: bacon, fried egg, tomato, and basil ($12).
Bacon ends were hanging out of the front of this thing like squid tentacles, and it was pretty tasty, if you're a fan of the sweet plus savory bacon motif.
My preference would be the ham & cheese croissant ($7). Or better yet, the jalapeño, ham, and cheese croissant ($7). Because, beside Leige waffles, this bakery's other specialty turned out to be pastries made with buttery, laminated dough, beginning with a reasonably good plain (a.k.a. butter) croissant ($5).
A plain, or "butter croissant"
The laminated dough stuff only gets more interesting as you drift right in the glass case, and croissants give way to morning buns and cruffins—which are sort of like cinnamon rolls and koign-ammans, respectively. However, pay close attention to this section, because beyond cinnamon and sugar, these treats are baked with daily variations such as tiramisu, cardamom and vanilla, and even spanakopita.
I did drive a long way, so I wasn't going to leave without trying a donut, even if they did cost 5 bucks (or about 4 bucks more than a regular donut). To be fair, a blueberry cheesecake filled donut might go for $2 or $3 some donut shops, so I didn't feel too bad about my order, nor the fact I gulped it down fast. I probably should have savored that one.
A chocolate hazelnut babka, morning bun, and blueberry cheesecake filled donut
And I probably should have hidden the $10 chocolate hazelnut babka from the kids when I got home. That's a pull-apart sweet brioche loaf with a rich vein of chocolate hazelnut spread. Too big to finish in one sitting (having already eaten a waffle sandwich, croissant, filled donut, and morning bun), I'd hoped it would keep to pair with my next morning's coffee. Instead it made for an after school snack. Our middle schoolers may not have been appreciative enough how far I went to bring them this treat, but at least they appreciated the Maximus joke.
Comments