On a bright, sun-soaked morning, I set out with my friends Jacob, Alex, and Zach—all four of us currently navigating the Bachelor of Education program at Saint Thomas University—to a place that has become something of a legend within our cohort. If you ask around, you’ll hear whispers that Jacob must secretly be on payroll at Boulangerie Seoul. Since September, he’s raved about it with near-religious devotion and has even been known to distribute the bakery’s business cards like party favours. Growing up in Fredericton, he calls it “it’s my favourite gem in Fredericton and I love sharing it with people,” and after this visit, it’s hard to argue with him.

Tucked inside the Silverwood Inn & Suites at 3136 Woodstock Road, the bakery reveals itself in an unexpected pocket of the city. You step inside and are greeted by a clean, open space bathed in natural light. Wood floors stretch across a wide dining area that once housed a different restaurant, now dotted with over a dozen white tables. There’s a wooden counter by the window where we settle in after ordering, sunlight pooling around our plates. Plants line the room, softening the edges of winter and adding a lived-in warmth. Communal art hangs on the walls. Next door, the owner’s mother runs a nail salon; her father owns the motel. It’s a true family operation, grounded and unpretentious, with Kingsclear Community School just up the road.

We arrive at 9:45 a.m., smug in our punctuality. I’ve been once before and know how quickly the pastries disappear. By 10 a.m., a steady stream of customers begins filing in. On weekends, we’re told, the line barely stops. There have been many sold-out days, something co-owner Seulah Jang says still feels surreal. She and her fiancé opened the bakery in August 2023 after moving back from Korea, where he honed his craft in French pastry kitchens. “We are specialized in French pastry,” she explains, noting how popular French baking is in Korea and how much experience her fiancé gained working in multiple locations there. What began as just the two of them running the shop quickly became unsustainable as word spread and lineups formed. They now employ three part-time staff and one full-time staff member, trying to keep up with demand while working with suppliers to keep prices as accessible as possible.

Jacob insists that what makes this place special is that “Here you find a type of pastry that you only find in a big city that have a lot of cultural communities. Fredericton having a place like this—it’s a gem.” Looking at the display case, it’s hard not to see his point.

We order a salted caramel tigré, canelé, pistachio croissant, matcha framboise, Dubai tart, bombolone, and a regular mocha. (If you order six pastries, they’re tax free—a small victory that feels like a gift.) Our total comes to around $40, which, considering the artistry involved, feels more than fair. Most pastries hover around $6–7, lattes about $5.50, and there are treats under $5 if you’re looking to keep things modest.

The mocha is sweet and comforting, the kind of drink that leans dessert but still pairs beautifully with a flaky pastry. The salted caramel tigré is a revelation: a heavier, crumbly cake with a shortbread-like texture and a glossy ravine of salted caramel running through it. The caramel melts into each bite, lingering just long enough to demand another sip of coffee.

Zach tackles the pistachio croissant and quickly abandons any attempt at decorum. The custard oozes the moment you break into it, flakes scattering everywhere, making it clear that forks are merely suggestions. He declares it pistachio-loaded, punctuated by a satisfied hum. It’s light, impossibly flaky, and generously filled, the nuttiness balanced by just enough sweetness.

Alex goes in expecting the canelé to be dense and heavy but is surprised by its complexity. The caramelized exterior gives way to a layered interior that feels almost hollow in places, creating a striking contrast between crisp shell and tender centre. With its mousse-like interior and burnished crust, it’s not overly sweet—more nuanced than showy, almost like an inverted cupcake injected with silk.

And then there’s the bombolone. Zach, without hesitation, announces he could happily commit himself to this doughnut for life. He insists that all doughnuts should be filled, and this one sets the standard. Lightly dusted with sugar, impossibly soft, and brimming with custard, it embodies a kind of simple perfection. It’s the sort of pastry that makes you rethink what a doughnut can be—humble, yes, but executed with care and precision.

Later, Jacob returns to the counter and reappears with a slice of Basque cheesecake, which Seulah tells us is currently their bestseller. One bite and I understand why. It’s light and creamy, with a fluffy, slightly eggy crust and a deep caramelized top that brings a gentle bitterness to balance the sweetness. There’s joy in every bite. For me, it unlocks a memory of caramel custard from my childhood in Delhi—dense, velvety, steamed puddings with deep amber tops and a richness that feels both indulgent and nostalgic. This cheesecake carries that same spirit, bridging continents in a single forkful.

Seulah’s own journey mirrors that sense of fusion. Originally from Seoul, she attended high school in St. Andrews, studied in London, Ontario, returned to Korea, and then came back to New Brunswick in 2021 to prepare for opening the bakery. When I ask what she’d like people to know, she simply says, “I wanted to say thank you to our community.” There’s sincerity there—gratitude for the early mornings, the lineups, the sold-out days, and the support that’s allowed them to start searching for a second location, even if finding the right spot has proven challenging.

Fredericton’s café scene has needed a lifeline after some difficult pandemic years, and while Boulangerie Seoul sits a little outside the downtown core, it’s worth the short drive. And perhaps, if all goes to plan, they’ll be closer to the city centre sooner than we think. This Korean-French union feels rare and intentional, a reminder that fusion, when done thoughtfully, expands rather than dilutes tradition. It would be difficult to rank favourites, but if pressed, I’d place the Basque cheesecake first, followed closely by the bombolone (though Zach may contest that claim), and then the pistachio croissant with its sticky, custard-laden layers.

Authenticity will always have its place, but there is something beautiful about the meeting of cultures, about recipes that travel and evolve. Fredericton is lucky to have this gem. Judging by the morning crowds and the empty pastry trays, the city seems to know it too.