Walk down Park Street in Montclair, New Jersey, on a Saturday morning and you’ll see it before you smell it. The line. It snakes out the door, past the windows, and down the sidewalk. People aren't waiting for a new iPhone or concert tickets. They’re waiting for bread. Specifically, they're waiting for Le French Dad Boulangerie.
It’s a vibe.
Arash Vakili, the "French Dad" himself, didn't just open a bakery; he basically imported a specific slice of Parisian culture into a suburban Jersey town. But here’s the thing: calling it just a "bakery" feels a bit like calling a Ferrari just a "car." It’s technically true, but it misses the entire point of why people are willing to stand in the rain for a sourdough loaf.
The Reality of Authentic French Baking in New Jersey
Most "French" bakeries in the States are, honestly, just regular bakeries with a fake Eiffel Tower in the window. They use frozen dough or high-fructose corn syrup in their glazes. Le French Dad Boulangerie is different. Vakili is a purist. He spent time training at the International Culinary Center and staged at various spots in France, and that obsession shows in the crust.
Have you ever tapped the bottom of a baguette? It should sound hollow. It should have a crust that actually resists your teeth before giving way to a soft, airy interior. This isn't the soft, pillowy "French bread" you find in a plastic bag at the supermarket. This is artisan sourdough—the kind that takes days, not hours, to prepare.
The bakery uses organic flours and long fermentation processes. Why does that matter? Well, for one, it makes the bread easier to digest. Many people who think they have a mild gluten sensitivity find they can actually eat long-fermented sourdough without the usual bloat. But mostly, it matters because of the flavor. That slight tang, the "ear" on the crust where the baker scored the dough, the way the butter melts into those specific air pockets—it's a whole experience.
What to Actually Order (Beyond the Croissants)
Look, the plain croissant is the gold standard. If a bakery can’t do a plain croissant, they shouldn't be in business. At Le French Dad Boulangerie, the layers are so thin they’re translucent. When you bite in, it shatters. You will get crumbs on your shirt. Embrace it.
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But if you want to eat like a regular, you have to look past the obvious choices.
- The Kouign-Amann: This is a buttery, sugary beast from Brittany. It’s basically a croissant’s more aggressive, caramelized cousin. It’s crunchy on the outside and gooey on the inside.
- The Seasonal Galettes: They do these open-faced fruit tarts that change with whatever is fresh. Sometimes it’s stone fruit; sometimes it’s heirloom tomatoes with goat cheese.
- The Miche: This is a massive, dark-baked sourdough loaf. It’s hearty. It lasts for days. It’s the kind of bread you want for a thick slab of salted butter and nothing else.
One thing people get wrong? They arrive at 11:00 AM and wonder why the shelves are half-empty. This is an artisan shop, not a factory. When they run out, they run out. That’s the price of quality.
The "French Dad" Philosophy
The name itself—Le French Dad—tells you a lot about the atmosphere. It’s not a stuffy, high-end patisserie where you feel like you can't touch anything. It’s communal. Arash is often there, working the ovens, talking to customers. There’s a sense of "dad energy"—warm, slightly chaotic in a good way, and deeply focused on providing for the neighborhood.
Montclair is a town that prides itself on being "not like the other suburbs," and this bakery fits that narrative perfectly. It’s located in the South End, a neighborhood that has its own distinct, slightly more industrial and creative feel compared to the upscale boutiques of Bloomfield Avenue.
By choosing this location, the bakery helped anchor a community of small businesses. It’s a destination. You go for the bread, you stay for the coffee, and you end up chatting with someone you haven't seen since high school. It’s a third space. In an era where everything is automated and digital, there is something deeply grounding about watching a human being pull a tray of hot loaves out of a deck oven.
Understanding the Sourdough Science
If you’ve ever tried to bake bread during the 2020 lockdowns, you know it’s hard. Like, really hard. Most people gave up after their third "pancake" loaf. At Le French Dad Boulangerie, they manage a level of consistency that is honestly baffling given the variables involved.
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Humidity, temperature, the "mood" of the starter—it all fluctuates.
Vakili’s process relies on high hydration dough. This means there is a high ratio of water to flour. High hydration is what creates those large, beautiful bubbles in the crumb (what bakers call "open crumb structure"). It’s also incredibly difficult to handle. The dough is sticky and shifty. It requires a specific folding technique rather than traditional kneading.
When you see those dark, almost burnt-looking spots on the crust? That’s not a mistake. That’s the Maillard reaction taken to its limit. It’s caramelization. It’s where the deep, nutty flavor lives. If your bread is pale, it’s underbaked. At Le French Dad, they aren't afraid of the fire.
Tips for Your First Visit
If you’re planning a trip to Le French Dad Boulangerie, don't just wing it.
- Check the hours: They aren't open 24/7. Usually, they’re closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Double-check their Instagram or website before you make the drive.
- Park smartly: Park Street can be a nightmare. Try the side streets or the nearby municipal lots if you don't want to circle for twenty minutes.
- Bring a bag: If you’re buying several loaves, bring a reusable tote. The paper bags are fine, but a sturdy tote makes the walk back to the car a lot easier.
- Try the sandwiches: People sleep on the sandwiches. They use their own baguettes, obviously, and the jambon-beurre (ham and butter) is the definition of "simple but perfect."
Why the Price Point Matters
You’ll hear some people complain that a loaf of bread shouldn't cost $10. And hey, if you're comparing it to a mass-produced loaf from the grocery store aisle, I get it. But those are different products.
When you buy from an artisan boulangerie, you’re paying for three things:
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- Time: That loaf took 36 to 48 hours to make.
- Labor: Someone had to be at the bakery at 3:00 AM to start the ovens.
- Ingredients: Organic, stone-ground flour isn't cheap.
When you break it down, it’s one of the most affordable luxuries you can buy. You can’t afford a $10,000 trip to Paris every month, but you can afford a $4 croissant that tastes exactly like the ones in the 11th Arrondissement. It’s a small win.
What This Bakery Means for Montclair
Montclair has always been a "foodie" town, but for a long time, it was dominated by Italian delis and standard American bistros. The arrival of Le French Dad Boulangerie signaled a shift toward specialized, high-concept craft. It proved that the neighborhood didn't just want "food"—it wanted a story.
It’s about the ritual. The Saturday morning walk. The steam rising from the coffee cup. The crackle of the baguette bag.
This isn't just about calories. It’s about a connection to a craft that hasn't changed much in hundreds of years. In a world of AI and automation, a loaf of bread made by a guy named Arash who just really cares about flour is a radical act.
Actionable Next Steps
If you want the full experience, here is exactly what you should do:
- Arrive early: Aim for 8:30 AM on a weekend to ensure the full selection is available before the "sold out" signs start appearing.
- Get the Baguette Tradition: It is the most versatile item. Eat half of it in the car (everyone does) and use the other half for a sandwich later.
- Order a "Cafe au Lait": It pairs perfectly with the butter-heavy pastries.
- Freeze the extras: If you buy too much bread, don't leave it on the counter. Slice it, freeze it in a Ziploc bag, and toast it straight from the freezer to revive that "just-baked" texture.