Michi Michi Baking Collective

Where Parc serves escargot on white tablecloths and CUCINA runs a dual restaurant-wine-shop operation, Michi Michi exists purely to bake—no full kitchen, no lunch pivots, just a rotating pastry case that sells out by noon most days. Chef Julien Demonchy's background shows in the technique: the almond croissant gets properly laminated, the guava cream cheese danish arrives with actual structural integrity, and even the pigs in a blanket—a gimmick dish anywhere else—come paired with a mustard dipping sauce that suggests someone's actually thinking about flavor progression. This is bakery work that respects tradition without performing it.

The small footprint means limited inventory and frequent sellouts, which creates a scarcity dynamic that feels less like manufactured hype and more like honest capacity constraints. You can't count on croissants every day. The cinnamon rolls appear when they appear. The chocolate pistachio baklava—a unexpected detour into Middle Eastern technique—shows up as a special and vanishes by mid-afternoon. What's consistent is the restraint: pastries lean less sweet than their coffee-shop equivalents, which means the banana bread actually tastes like banana instead of frosting delivery vehicle.

The space itself operates on bakery logic—expect lines during morning rush, limited seating, and parking that requires either street luck or the Fifth Avenue garage a block south. The miso caramel matcha divides opinion sharply (one review called it "very unique" in a tone that wasn't entirely complimentary), which feels about right for a spot that's more interested in nailing lamination than crowd-pleasing. Come early, know what you want, and have a backup order ready. This is Bankers Hill's answer to serious pastry work, served out of a cozy storefront that doesn't apologize for running out.