Tree of Life at Elcielo

How Michelin-Starred Chefs Are Reinventing the Bread Course

10 Minute read

18 Aug 2025

Jillian Dara

Journalist

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Forget the filler basket—five chefs show how bread becomes an essential course, from Catalan glass bread to pan provençal.

Bread baskets may seem like a standard courtesy, but in fine dining they’re often something more—an intimate gesture of comfort that sets the tone for the entire meal. “Bread is humble, but unforgettable when done right,” says Pepe Moncayo, chef of Arrels in Washington, D.C., who previously earned a Michelin star at Cranes.

At Arrels, Moncayo serves bread just after the amuse-bouche, one of several deliberate choices that shape how guests experience the course. He and four other Michelin-starred chefs reveal how they elevate bread service through decade-old starters, precise timing, and thoughtful accompaniments—proof that the bread course is never an afterthought.

Glass Bread at Arrels

At Arrels, Moncayo serves pan de cristal, the Catalan “glass bread” prized for its airy crumb and shattering crunch. He places it after the amuse-bouche because, as he explains, “guests are settled by then, they’ve had a first sip of wine and they’re ready to engage.” Just before service, the bread is toasted in a charcoal oven for subtle smokiness and presented with roasted garlic, halved ripe tomatoes, flaky sea salt, and Arbequina olive oil from Tierra Callada. Diners rub the tomato and garlic on the bread themselves—just as they would in Catalunya—for what Moncayo calls an “interactive, textural and personal” ritual.

“It stands as its own quiet course—not just background, but part of the architecture of the meal,” he says. The memory that inspired him comes from Supra in D.C., where a khachapuri (a Georgian cheese-filled bread) once “completely blew my mind. I was already impressed, and then that bread arrived… hot, rich, stretchy, and completely unforgettable.”

Glass Bread at Arrels

A Trio of Baguette, Milk Bread, and Grissini at Le Jardinier

As a culinary student working front-of-house, Salvatore Martone often cut bread for service. “They’d occasionally reuse bread from the day before, and the bread often lost its texture and aroma,” he recalls. “Bread should be warm, fresh, and served with care.”

That principle guides him today as executive pastry chef of The Bastion Collection. At Le Jardinier in New York, Miami, and Houston, and at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon, bread is baked in-house daily. Each piece is shaped individually, from mini baguettes to pain au lait–style milk bread layered with spinach dough to gluten-free grissini. At L’Atelier, the basket expands to include escargot bread, a rolled, croissant-like pastry that’s rich and buttery.

Accompaniments remain simple: a molded Vermont butter, always served at the right temperature. For those who know to ask, Spanish Hojiblanca olive oil is available, too. “Beyond the bread basket, we incorporate our house-made breads throughout the menu—sourdough for sliders or lobster rolls, lavash for salads,” Martone says. “That connection between the bread course and the broader menu makes it feel more intentional.”

His breads also draw on two sourdough starters: a liquid whole-wheat starter and a solid white starter more than 50 years old that he brought from Italy. “We serve the bread at the very beginning of the meal,” he adds. “It gives guests something warm and comforting to nibble on while they wait for their first courses.”

Warm Focaccia at Lutèce

“The first bread I really remember at a restaurant wasn’t as a guest—it was when I was 16, working in the kitchen,” says Matt Conroy, former chef of Michelin-starred Oxomoco in Brooklyn and now executive chef of Lutèce in Washington, D.C. The kitchen baked brioche buns for service, served warm with whipped tomato butter, and Conroy asked if he could come in early just to work the bread station. “That experience really shaped how I see bread—it taught me that something seemingly simple could carry care, technique, and intention. It wasn’t just a side item, it was a way to welcome someone to the table.”

At Lutèce, Conroy greets à la carte diners with a naturally leavened focaccia made from a six-year-old starter and fermented overnight for depth of flavor. It arrives crisp-edged and warm, paired with house-cultured butter whipped with crème fraîche and fleur de sel, then finished with bright basil oil. On the tasting menu, the focaccia appears alongside Parisian gnocchi as the “perfect vehicle to soak up any extra sauce.”

Conroy also recalls a meal at Le Bernardin where the bread selection—more than six varieties, replenished throughout the night—stood out as essential to the experience. “We kept asking for more because the sauces were so incredible, and we didn’t want to leave a drop behind,” he says. “It really highlighted how bread can be more than a starting point—it can be a tool, a vehicle, and a companion to everything else on the plate.”

Bread at Lutèce. Credit: Kelsey Shoemaker

Casabe Flatbread at Elcielo

Growing up in Colombia, Sebastian Moreno, now executive chef at Elcielo, remembers road trips punctuated by roadside arepas de choclo and pandebonos. “That memory of warmth, comfort, and togetherness stuck with me,” he says. “Bread is the cornerstone of every society—it transcends cultures and brings people together.”

At Elcielo, Moreno channels those memories with a bread course “rooted in tradition, meant to be shared, and served with intention.” Inspired by the Amazon, he serves casabe, a flatbread made with yucca starch that is naturally leavened for “a unique, chewy texture and earthy flavor.” The bread arrives after the snacks section and just before the main course, grounding guests in the restaurant’s roots and setting the tone for what follows.

It’s paired with brown butter, cilantro-oregano sour cream, and roasted tomato sauce to layer richness, brightness, and comfort. “Presentation plays a big role,” Moreno adds. “We serve the bread on a custom copper tree that represents the Amazon rainforest. It’s placed at the center of the table, symbolizing unity and connection, and meant to be broken and shared among guests—just like we would with family.”

Pan Provençal at Lilac

For John Fraser, the memory of a Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuit still lingers. “That nostalgia stays with me whenever I eat bread,” says the chef of Michelin-starred Lilac in Tampa.

At Lilac, Fraser serves pan provençal, a soft milk bread topped with onions cooked slowly with sherry, vinegar, black pepper, and thyme. “It’s a pull-apart bread, meant to serve four, and we encourage guests to eat it with their hands,” he says. “It comes out with a series of canapés and hors d’oeuvres, and is meant to be a shared moment before entrées are served.”

Fraser insists bread should never be a filler course but should “stand on its own as part of the experience.” At Lilac, a special sourdough starter adds subtle acidity that cuts through the richness of the onions. The same care extends to his other restaurants, from The Loyal and La Marchande in New York to the sourdough pita at IRIS, hand-rolled and fired à la minute.

He describes his approach as “archaic.” “You have to make it ahead, care for the starter, and commit to the process,” he explains. “It’s slow, and it’s never just about filling space on the menu; it’s about creating a moment.”