Is Prager Brothers worth the trip to Hillcrest if I'm serious about bread?

Yes—especially if you grew up eating real European bread and have been disappointed by what passes for it locally. The sourdough and Bauernbrot are made from scratch the old-school way and freeze beautifully, so stock up. This is the spot where German expats and bread nerds show up for a reason.

What should I order first when I visit?

Start with the country sourdough loaf—it's the go-to that keeps people coming back. If you're there for breakfast, grab the morning buns. They also do solid takeaway sandwiches, so don't sleep on those either.

Is it good for a quick breakfast or lunch before work?

Perfect for it. It's a casual spot where locals grab coffee and bread on the way out, and everything's made to go. Pop in, grab your sourdough or a sandwich, and you're out—no sitting around required.

The listing shows it's a bakery and food store in Hillcrest, but there's no specific outdoor patio mentioned—best to call ahead or check when you arrive to see if dogs are welcome on the sidewalk entrance.

Are there any things I should know before I go?

Fair warning: a few reviewers have mentioned seeing flies in the food cases, which is worth keeping in mind. That said, the bread quality is legit, and the staff is genuinely helpful—one reviewer got a free bag just for having his hands full. The vibe is neighborhood-casual, so don't expect fancy.

Do they do dietary stuff like gluten-free or vegan options?

The menu centers on traditional bread and sandwiches, so gluten-free options aren't mentioned in reviews. Worth calling to ask about vegan sandwich fillings or other accommodations before you visit.

Prager Brothers Artisan Breads — Bakeries in Hillcrest, San…

“Prager Brothers is the sourdough operation that finally convinced Hillcrest's carb-avoiding brunch crowd they've been missing the point.”

Where Snooze engineers pancake flights and Hash House stacks waffles into towers, Prager Brothers does one thing with monastic focus: bread baked the long way, with wild yeast and time instead of shortcuts. No breakfast spectacle, no menu permutations—just country sourdough loaves with thick, blistered crusts and that proper sour tang, the Bauernbrot that makes transplanted Germans emotional, and morning buns that regulars grab still-warm before the farmers market Sunday rush.

The country sourdough freezes beautifully, which matters when you're walking University Avenue in summer heat. Slice it thick, toast it dark, and it holds up to whatever you pile on—the kind of bread that makes you realize supermarket sourdough was lying to you all along. The Bauernbrot runs denser, closer to German rye territory, with enough structure to handle cheese or jam without turning to mush.

The spicy Italian sandwich used to run thick with arugula and salami; recent visits show a leaner build, though the bread itself still carries the meal. That's the trade-off with a bakery this small—sometimes portions shift, sometimes flies appear in the display case on slow afternoons, sometimes you show up and half the pastries are gone by 10 a.m. It's the opposite of corporate breakfast operations, which means it's also the opposite of predictable.

Park on side streets west of the sign—University Avenue parking runs miserable on weekends. Come early if you want selection; come after the brunch line clears if you just need a loaf. The front-door staff will talk you through sourdough options like you're deciding on a wine pairing, which in Hillcrest feels exactly right.