Review: Common Bond's Pastries Are So Divine We're Driven to Rhyme

It’s buttery, flaky, a cavernous treat,
the type of thing no one can help but eat
when they see the whole tray piled high behind glass,
beckoning diners who gather en masse.
The puffy, crisp roll has a light outer shell
that begs to be sliced to reveal each round cell
created by yeast and what must be a ton
of butter, at least, in every one.
There’s an art to the dough, called viennoiserie,
but most guests don’t care, they need only see
the counter abounding with baked goods galore,
then they end up ordering quite a bit more
than intended. It’s all cause their eyes filled with want
the moment they locked on the perfect croissant.

The chef made a bold claim long before
the bakery even opened its doors,
and since then he’s dealt with a misquote he hurled:
He wants to run the best bakery in the world.
Though the jury’s still out on the world domination,
the new shop has proved to be quite the sensation.
From the croissants that make food-lovers swoon
to the savory items, it’s hard to lampoon
chef Shvartzapel’s quote now that clearly, hands down,
Common Bond is truly the best bakery in town.
It opened to fanfare that somehow, magically
hasn’t died down yet, leaving tragically
few chairs on the bright dining floor,
not designed for a line that’s — more often than not — out the door.
People don’t seem to mind, though, as they converse in line,
comparing notes on which dishes are fine,
while chef Shvartzapel observes from the kitchen,
pleased with his pastries and their knack for bewitching.
The same folks come in here day after day,
eager to feast on the veritable buffet
of croissants, macarons and the best, kouign amann,
and Shvartzapel waves to each, the gracious bakery Don.
Recently, while waiting in line with the crowd,
I heard someone near me wonder aloud,
“What should I get? It all sounds so great!”
“Excuse me,” I said, “I’m sorry, I hate
to interrupt you, but here’s what to get:
A kouign amann, a croissant, some bread…and yet,
savory is good, too…” I trailed off
while she looked at me slightly distraught.
“Sorry,” I said. “I eat here a lot.”
And so it is that I find myself staying up late,
computer in lap, scone on plate,
enjoying the fruits of Shvartzapel’s labor
while I virtually put pen to paper
in an effort to capture pastry with words.
It’s no easy task; this one ain’t for the birds.
But I feel you should know of this food, so sublime.
Common Bond is so great, it drives me to rhyme.

Roy Shvartzapel came here by way of New York.
He was born in Houston, but he left town to work
with some of the greatest chefs in the world,
under whose guidance his talent unfurled.
After graduating from the CIA
(culinary school, not government play),
Shvartzapel worked with chefs world class
from Thomas Keller to Alain Ducasse.
Houston investors took note of his skill
and lured him back here for the chance to fulfill
the dream of a lifetime, a gourmet bakery
to show off the chef’s impressive pedigree.
Kathy Sanders and her son, Brad,
invested in him and the team that he had
assembled from years of working in pastry
to create something unique and so very tasty.
Common Bond is a bakery, first and foremost,
but it recently began preparing a whole host
of other mouthwateringly great savory dishes
from soft scrambled eggs to fried chips and fishes.
One of the greatest in Shvartzapel’s oeuvre,
a divine chicken torta that it would behoove ya
to order the next time it’s on the lunch menu —
the offerings change day to day at this venue.
The chicken torta is a sandwich so grand,
it is hard to consume it with just your two hands.
You’ll need knife and fork in order to eat
the smooth guacamole and warm shredded meat.
Jalapeños and salsa add extra spice
while cotija and crema cool it off nice.
It’s all stuffed between a telera roll,
which soaks up the juices and adds heart and soul
to the artisan sandwich that many demand,
thanks to the great bread made with love and by hand.
In addition to pastry, Common Bond makes some bread
that, though pricey, will stop you from heading instead
to grocery store aisles that stock cheaper loaves.
One bite and you’ll understand diners coming in droves.
The pear and pecan is best with just butter,
while olive with cheese tray sends hearts aflutter.
The bread finds its way into brunch dishes, too,
like the fish n’ chips sandwich or rich pain perdu.
‘Course, pain perdu is not bread in the traditional sense;
It’s croissant dough — buttery, sweet and dense —
packed into a loaf pan then baked and made sweeter
by turning it into french toast that just teeters
on the edge of too rich and too much.
Served with whipped cream that melts at a touch,
it’s a decadent breakfast, that is for sure.
And still, when I’d finished, I kept craving more.
I also lust after a charred romaine salad
with dressing so tangy it’s worth a whole ballad
devoted to lemon and vinegar creamy.
Mixed with citrus and onion, that salad is dreamy.
Lightly grilling romaine brings out deeper flavor,
while pickled red onions are something to savor.
There’s no protein here on this all-veggie platter,
but the taste is so good, it won’t even matter.
For the more meat-inclined, try the hot mole hash.
Octopus and carnitas you might think would clash,
but when slathered in subtle but dynamic mole
and sprinkled with cheese, the flavors convey
a fusion of Latin and Gulf Coast cuisines
unique to our local, Houston food scene.

I wish the same could be said for the lunch fish n’ chips,
but potatoes are dry and the fish filet slips
out from between two soft rounds of brioche,
and asking for extra aioli seemed gauche.
And the whole thing was dry, a fried mess of batter.
Between mole and this, stick to the latter.
Or you could skip the savory completely in favor
of pastries and sweets nearly bursting with flavor.
Kouign amann (the first word sounds like “queen,” for the record)
is my favorite treat and largely unheard
of in Houston prior to Common Bond’s reign.
Shvartzapel says now it’s now hard to maintain
a stock of the sticky, sweet treats in the shop
now that’s he’s introduced it to this Houston crop.
It’s much like a croissant only with extra fat
and sprinkled with sugar then rolled out till flat.
It’s cut into squares and pinched at the top,
then dredged in more sugar before being dropped
in large, rounded molds where it’s baked,
and the sugar becomes something new.
It caramelizes in a hot pas de deux
of sucrose and heat that I think might be
the best breakfast dish I ever did see.
And at this point I feel I must mention the tarts
and the black forest mousse and the delicate parts
that make up each dainty dessert so composed
they’re like works of art superimposed
on a canvas of goodies already consumed.
Don’t save room for dessert, and I fear you’ll be doomed
to return here again and again in your quest
to try each new item and see which is best.

When Common Bond opened, I, too, was suspicious
of the New York-trained baker and his best-in-class dishes.
Who comes to Houston and intends to beat out
all our other great bakers without the same clout?
But he’s proven his worth, as has the café,
which wins people over not with pomp or with sway
but with simply great food and a mission to please.
Still, with such success, Shvartzapel’s not at ease.
He’s constantly working to continue improving,
to keep the crowd happy and keep the line moving.
Though customer service still has its flaws,
like slowness, confusion and order faux pas,
the many new servers are learning their trade,
getting better at coming to customers’ aid.
In large part they project the most pleasant of auras
(but I must say I hate all their stupid fedoras).
I am happy to have a spot like this here,
proving we can lure great chefs far and near
to oft-changing Houston where now, it sure seems,
we’re getting the restaurant scene of our dreams.
Raising the bar on pastry and bread
means commitment to quality surely will spread
across town and keep making Houston’s light brighter,
which really excites this humble food writer.

Common Bond 1706 Westheimer, 713-529-3535, Hours: Tuesday through Friday, 7 a.m. to 7 p.m.; Saturday and Sunday, 9 a.m. to 7 p.m.; Kitchen closes at 3 p.m. daily.

Kouign amann $4.25 Croissant $4 Pain perdu $8 Charred romaine salad $11 Chicken torta $11 Mole hash $14 Fish n’ chips $13 Black forest mousse $6