This Tiny Cafe In New York Has A Mouth-Watering French Toast That’s Absolutely Worth Driving For In 2026

Why does French toast taste so good when someone actually does it right? There’s a tiny café in New York serving a stack so insanely delicious it’s basically the breakfast equivalent of a hug. This charming New York café has French toast that’s absolutely to go crazy for, and totally worth planning a visit around.

We’re talking thick, custardy slices soaked just right, golden-brown on the outside, and fluffy soft inside. Drizzled with real maple syrup, topped with fresh fruit, and dusted with just the right amount of powdered sugar, it’s basically breakfast perfection.

The spot itself is small and cosy, the kind of place you want to linger in with a latte while the world wakes up. One bite, and you’ll already be thinking about your next order.

Why This French Toast Lives Rent Free In Your Cravings

Some dishes announce themselves with a drumroll, and some simply arrive, glistening, and let your fork do the talking. The French toast at this cafe belongs to the second category, whispering vanilla and warm spice before you even taste it. Custard soaks deep into plush challah, then a patient griddle coaxes it toward bronze, turning edges gently crisp.

A berry sauce brightens everything without bullying the sweetness, while a cloud of powdered sugar behaves like polite snow.

You start noticing little gestures that make the plate sing, the way toasted nuts add a civilized crunch, or how a kiss of citrus lifts the last bite. Coffee here supports the mission with rich crema and no bitterness, the sort of pairing that steadies a busy day. Service moves quickly in tight quarters, and somehow the plates still look camera ready.

Bring your appetite, bring your curiosity, and maybe bring a friend who will insist you take the final piece.

The Little Rituals That Make Brunch Feel Like A Holiday

Every memorable brunch starts with choreography you barely notice, and this spot nails the steps. A host threads guests through a compact room, the espresso machine hums like a well tuned chorus, and plates land hot without fanfare. You will likely wait a few minutes, though the coffee helps pass time with fragrant diplomacy.

Music keeps a gentle pulse, more groove than glare, perfect for easing into conversation.

Somewhere between sip and slice, you catch the kitchen’s precision and calm. The pancakes lean fluffy instead of sugary, the shishito peppers wake the palate with playful heat, and the Benedict finds its footing between velvety sauce and firm toast. The best part slips in casually after that first bite of French toast, when you realize the custard is balanced, not cloying.

Consider it brunch with manners, indulgent enough to thrill, disciplined enough to leave you light on your feet.

Where Is This Wonderful Place?

Introductions are easy when the coffee smells this convincing. Little Collins sits in Midtown’s flow at 708 3rd Ave, New York, NY 10017, a cozy cafe that treats breakfast like a craft. Doors open early for commuters who know a dialed in flat white can save a morning meeting.

Seating is snug, though turnover is brisk, so patience plus a pastry usually does the trick.

The menu reads compact but confident, with standouts like Mary’s Mushrooms, Green Eggs n’ Damn, and that much discussed French toast. Challah is the chosen canvas, soaked in custard, browned to a friendly crunch, and finished with bright raspberry sauce that refuses to be syrup’s understudy. Weekdays draw office regulars, weekends invite leisurely plates and celebratory cappuccinos.

Hours typically run from 7 AM until mid afternoon, and the staff keeps a calm tempo that makes the room feel unhurried.

Inside The Custard: How Texture Wins The Day

Texture decides whether French toast is charming or forgettable, and here it is unforgettable. The custard carries just enough egg to set, just enough cream to luxuriate, and a mild vanilla that lingers. A deliberate sear builds a caramelized jacket, creating that satisfying fork-through-crisp-into-custard moment.

Each slice springs back gently, proof that the bread was treated like a living thing, not a sponge.

Acidity shows up in the berry sauce, which keeps richness lively rather than heavy. Toasted hazelnuts occasionally appear, bringing roasted perfume and a clever counterpoint to the soft interior. Maple can join the party, though you may find restraint wiser, because balance is already handled.

By the final bite, you realize the plate stays poised from start to finish, and you wonder why every kitchen does not practice this kind of calm discipline.

Coffee That Matches The Plate, Sip For Bite

Great French toast deserves a co-star, and the coffee program is perfectly cast. Baristas pull shots with thick crema, dialing sweetness and structure so milk drinks carry flavor without muddling it. A flat white lands silky, while a cappuccino arrives with buoyant foam that lifts cocoa notes.

If you lean filter, the drip is honest, though espresso based drinks shine brightest.

Timing matters, and drinks here hit the table before the heat leaves your plate. The roast profile steers clear of ash, leaning toward chocolate, almond, and a whisper of citrus. That spectrum plays nicely against the custard’s richness and the raspberry’s sparkle.

You take a sip, take a bite, and suddenly the table feels like a well rehearsed duet you are lucky to conduct.

Plates Beyond Toast That Still Earn The Applause

Variety keeps regulars loyal, and the kitchen seems to understand that deeply. Shakshuka simmers with a gentle zing, eggs settling into the sauce without disappearing. Benedicts arrive with poised hollandaise and tidy poaching, while the avocado toast earns its spot with mint that freshens every bite.

Pancakes puff like well behaved clouds, their restraint in sweetness making room for toasted hazelnuts and banana.

Even the breakfast salad feels celebratory, bright greens nudged awake by citrus and a tactful sprinkle of heat. Portions satisfy without tipping into torpor, which is especially kind when the city expects you back at your desk. Sides lean thoughtful, from bacon with proper snap to truffle fries that routinely steal the spotlight.

Order broadly, share generously, and watch the table turn into a lively sampler of the kitchen’s best instincts.

Friendly Pace, Small Space, Big Smiles

Hospitality here works like a good soundtrack, supportive and steady without shouting. The room is compact, so there can be a short wait, though the promise of brunch tends to make time pass kindly. Staff move with quick steps and genuine warmth, and despite the bustle, plates land hot and tidy.

You will notice the soundtrack sits at a civilized volume, letting conversations breathe.

Weekday mornings bring commuters, while weekends introduce unhurried couples and friends comparing bites. The team navigates tight quarters with practiced ease, and any hiccups usually disappear with swift attention. Prices reflect Midtown reality, but quality rides high enough to justify the indulgence.

Leave with a satisfied grin, a calendar reminder to return, and a quiet plan to order the French toast twice next time.

The Syrup Strategy, Or How Maple Becomes Memory

There is a moment when the syrup pauses at the lip of the pitcher, catching light like honeyed glass. Then it ribbons over the crust, disappearing into custard, reappearing along the edge in a gleam. You do not drown the slice.

You trace, you taste, you calibrate.

The staff nudges you toward real maple and they are right. Its woodland sweetness leans into the spice, lifts the browned butter, and lingers. A careful pour means each bite has personality.

Some edges crackle, some centers sigh.

By the last triangle, you remember: restraint can taste like luxury.

Challah Matters: The Bread That Holds The Dream

You notice the braid first, even when it is already sliced thick as a paperback. Challah brings a gentle sweetness, a buttery whisper, and the structure to steward custard without slumping. The crumb is tender but not timid.

It invites soak, not surrender.

Here they let the slices rest, so the center drinks evenly and the crust keeps its little halo. On the griddle, sugars kiss the heat and turn amber. The result is plush inside, faintly toffee outside.

Other breads could shout. Challah converses. It carries the flavor while letting everything else shine through.

Timing Is Everything, From Griddle To Table

Watch the choreography if you sit near the pass. Butter lands, a hiss answers, and the slice meets heat just as the espresso finishes blooming. They flip when the edge speaks in tiny crisp sounds, then rest the toast while plates warm nearby.

No panic, only pace.

The server arrives before the steam wand quiets, placing syrup within reach like a promise. Powdered sugar falls in weather patterns, not snowdrifts. You start while it is still breathing warmth.

This is the window where texture dazzles and flavors align. Miss it, and you lose magic. They never do.

Seasonal Toppings That Nudge Sweet Into Clever

Here, toppings change with the month the way the city swaps jackets for sundresses. Early fall brings roasted pears with a flutter of cardamom sugar, and suddenly your bite has a quiet orchard hum. Winter leans into citrus, ruby segments brightening the custard’s warmth like a friendly dare.

Spring shows off macerated berries, their juices ribboning into maple so every forkful feels composed, not chaotic. Candied pecans appear when you need crunch, never shouting, only nodding. A cloud of mascarpone melts exactly at contact, smoothing edges you did not know existed.

You choose your path, but the toast stays the star. That balance wins.