Move Over Croissant, The Concha Is America's New Favorite Pastry
Back in 2017, Mariela Camacho, the oldest daughter of Mexican immigrant parents, was baking sourdough loaves for coffee shops in Seattle when she decided to lean into her heritage and learn to bake conchas, the catcher’s mitt-sized sweet buns commonly found in Mexican panaderias.
The problem: she had no idea how to make them. “My family cooks, but they don't bake, so I had to figure it out myself,” she said. “Nine years ago, conchas were not cool, so I had to basically teach myself.”
Today, Camacho bakes colorful conchas in modern flavors like earl grey and vanilla, hot chocolate with saffron and guajillo, and brown butter lavender at Comadre Panadería, her bright pink shop in Austin, Texas.
She’s far from alone. Contemporary conchas are popping up across the country: in New York at Vato and Cosme; in Los Angeles at Santa Canela and My Panecito; in Vermont at Atla’s Conchas. Even Popeyes is in on conchas, which debuted a Tequila Don Julio–flavored concha chicken sandwich during the Super Bowl.
Perhaps the clearest sign of the concha’s ascent came last February at La Rue Doughnuts, a French bakery in Dallas, where the croissant collided with the concha. “The croncha was an organic way to bring together the cultures in our kitchen,” said owner Amy La Rue, noting her largely Mexican staff. The pastry—layered like a croissant, topped like a concha—drew TSA-length lines down the block and helped reframe the bun as a peer to French pastry.
That shift is measurable. According to food industry research group Datassential, menus featuring conchas have grown 68% in the past four years, with 53% of Gen Z diners “definitely interested” in trying one—more than any other generation.
“We’re bringing our childhood memories to the table, and now people are paying attention,” said Erick Rocha, pastry chef at Corima in Manhattan and the all-day cafe Vato, in Park Slope, Brooklyn, where conchas regularly sell out. “A lot of us are putting conchas on the map for the American public.”
Building on Tradition
The concha traces back to the 16th century, when wheat arrived in Spanish colonies. The pan dulce tradition evolved in the 19th century under French influence, with conchas becoming a staple in Mexico City’s cafés de chinos—Chinese-owned diners that proliferated in the early 20th century. Over time, the buns evolved from classic vanilla and chocolate to more expressive versions, like those scented with hoja santa at Mexico City’s acclaimed Panadería Rosetta.
Here in the states, many second generation pastry chefs have adapted the concha to reflect both heritage and place. Some use brioche dough or sourdough starters; others incorporate heirloom grains, and cacao, cinnamon, and vanilla from Mexico.
“We took inspiration from the cultural biodiversity of New York City,” said Rocha, whose conchas are filled with yuzu curd and toasted tomoxtle (corn husk) chantilly cream.
Camacho, meanwhile, builds her menu around Mexican ingredients: fresh masa, cacao, and flours like Yecora Rojo and Sonora wheat. “It feels very appropriate to use flour grown in the Sonora Desert, which stretches into northern Mexico,” she said.
At Atla’s Conchas, a micro-bakery in Randolph, Vermont, husband-and-wife team Mauricio Lopez Martinez and Caroline Anders bake conchas using a traditional Oaxacan recipe scented with ground anise and vanilla. But the couple strays from tradition using unsifted house-milled “full inclusion” flour, an approach that is both technical and political. Full inclusion or unsifted flour retains flour’s three components, the bran, the germ, and endosperm. White flour is sifted to keep only the starchy endosperm, removing nutrients and flavor. “We put the wheat berries in the mill and the flour that comes out is exactly what we use. White flour was brought over by the conquistadors as a sign of wealth,” Anders said. “Part of challenging that history is challenging the idea that white flour is superior.”
The Next Generation
For many bakers, the concha is both a canvas and a form of cultural reclamation—an everyday pastry elevated with the same rigor and creativity long applied to European traditions.
“I grew up eating them,” said Fany Gerson of Fan-Fan Doughnuts, who often started her mornings growing up in Mexico City with a concha. She sees its rise as part of a broader shift. “Mexico is so influential in the U.S., and in the last decade Mexico City has become one of the most popular places to visit. The concha feels familiar, and like a donut, it’s a canvas for flavor.”
At a recent pop-up in Barcelona, Gerson baked hibiscus-vanilla conchas filled with passion fruit curd, black sesame conchas with horchata cream, and corn masa conchas filled with fresh corn custard.
“There is a new wave of bakers doing conchas,” said Ellen Ramos, pastry chef at Santa Canela in Los Angeles, part of the Muy Salsa restaurant group. Inspired by East LA institutions like El Águila Bakery, where she grew up, Ramos reimagines traditional recipes with flavors like cookies and cream, orange blossom, and speculoos. The bakery has become so popular that they plan on opening two more locations in California and a kiosk in Burbank Airport.
Ramos welcomes the experimentation—even the croissant hybrids. “It’s okay to push boundaries,” she said. “The concha is a way to carry tradition through our own lens so it lives on.”
Comadre Panadería, Austin, Texas
Santa Canela, Los Angeles
My Panecito, Los Angeles
Fan-Fan Doughnuts, Brooklyn
Vato, Brooklyn
Cosme, Manhattan
Atla’s Conchas, Randolph, Vermont
La Rue Doughnuts, Dallas
