Animal crackers from Sun Street Breads
Waiting on the inevitable Sunday morning line at Sun Street Breads, it’s hard not to completely blow up your shopping list. Sure, you probably came in for a loaf of the Kingfield sourdough, or were planning to sit with a biscuit breakfast sandwich and an elegant cardamom twist. But then you start scanning the menu and the grab-and-go case and suddenly you’re stocking up on Svalbard seed crackers and Crusher cookies and maybe throwing in a frozen pizza while you’re at it.
That’s how I found myself picking up a compact little paper boat filled with adorable housemade animal crackers ($7.75). The giraffe and lion and a seal balancing a little ball all called to me, and I guessed correctly they’d be a hit with my kids later that day.
Though they’d been overshadowed by Sun Street’s incredible breads, to me anyway, they’ve been on the menu since Day 1, back in 2011, baker/owner Solveig Tofte wrote in an email. “It was part of the original business plan,” she said. “I wanted to send one or two out with every coffee just like the Muddy Waters of my youth [in the ‘80s].” Tofte is referring, of course, to the Uptown-area institution of a coffeeshop that evolved over time into a restaurant, and closed in 2020.
At Sun Street, the animal crackers — which are actually a sugar cookie crisped up with the addition of rice flour and flavored with a hint of nutmeg — never actually made it onto every coffee saucer. But packages of them have become a favorite with regulars at the bright corner cafe.
“Everyone seems to love them,” Tofte said. “We have grandparents who come in every week to get some when the grandkids come over, and that’s awesome.” (Sharyn Jackson)
4600 Nicollet Av. S., Mpls., sunstreetbreads.com

Al pastor tacos at Tromperia El Zac
Even before setting foot inside Tromperia El Zac, the heady perfume this St. Paul restaurant emits is irresistible: roasted meats, sweet onions, toasty peppers and the promise of a rotating spit loaded up with all the good things. “I don’t dream of fancy stoves, I just want to own my own trompo,” mused a chef friend.
The slow-roasting spit, or trompo, is stacked with fragrant meat and rotates, allowing the marinade and juices to drip from one layer onto another, basting itself. The pineapple releases a little of that honied, floral sweet juice to caramelize the exterior.