Going Whole Grain at Atla’s Conchas

A new bakery in Harlem pushes against complicated notions of authenticity in favor of the optimal.

At Mexican panaderías across the five boroughs, conchas are zealously big and topped with crumbly crusts that are tinted with unnaturally exuberant shades of Barbie pink or highlighter yellow. They are quotidian buns in the pastry case, affordable enough for breakfast or a snack every day, but a colorful bout of celebration nonetheless. Above all, these conchas fulfill their greater purpose of being sweet and nostalgic.

At Atla’s Conchas, which opened in Harlem this summer, bakers Caroline Anders and Mauricio Martinez are reimagining the concha, and the craft of bread baking entirely, as a pursuit of something else — quality.

Anders and Martinez met while working as bread bakers at Weaver Street Market in North Carolina. She had been a baker there for eight years, he for at least 20. When Anders developed a severe grass allergy, they decided to leave North Carolina and move to a place where they could put down roots as business owners. They found the perfect spot in the urban oasis of East Harlem. At their cozy little bakery on East 109th Street, the couple produces a tight curation of mostly Mexican sweet breads, or pan dulce.

The name Atla is short for Atlacoya, the Aztec goddess of draught.

I first visited the bakery as summer was beginning to slink away, leaving a crisp, brisk chill in its morning wake. Inside, there were piles of the namesake conchas, palm-sized enriched bread rolls capped with a buttery cookie crust imprinted with the wavy lines of a sea shell (concha means shell in Spanish). The spiced pumpkin concha was a new seasonal addition and with a piped curlicue of green icing sugar, it was the first thing to catch my eye.