The hottest new bakery in Swarthmore is helmed by a famous puppeteer

“Bakery is theater,” says Robert Smythe, perched on a stool in his Swarthmore bake shop, Pastry Pants. Smythe knows a thing or two about theater: He’s one of the most influential puppeteers in America, having founded Philadelphia’s groundbreaking Mum Puppettheatre in the 1980s and racked up a Guggenheim Fellowship and Barrymore Awards for his work.

Smythe also knows a thing or two about baking. His new bakery, which he launched from his driveway last fall before moving into a brick-and-mortar in downtown Swarthmore in May, is a veritable sensation, drawing crowds that sometimes snake down the block. “If you can’t give people theater, then it’s just food, right?” Outfitted with antique fixtures, baskets of crusty batards, golden Bavarian pretzels hanging from a wooden tree like leaves, glistening brioche, and stacks of cookies, the shop puts on a dazzling show, unlike anything that has ever existed in Swarthmore.

Like many others, Smythe pivoted during the pandemic: After nearly 25 years at Mum, then a stint at Rose Valley’s historic Hedgerow Theater, he followed his other passion to a post as head baker at Swarthmore College. In spring 2023, he quit and decided to start his own bakery. Smythe opened Pastry Pants in his driveway that September, attracting a two-block-long line through word-of-mouth alone. Patrons waited up to two hours for Smythe’s muffins, giant oozy cinnamon rolls, and other baked treats, which sold out every day. Within a week, he hired his first full-time employee.

“A lot of people said it was from my garage, but it’s a detached building that is on my property,” says Smythe. When I – a person who lived in Swarthmore from ages 3 to 17 – expressed shock that a town so kooky and uptight would allow such a thing, Smythe said that the borough is surprisingly permissive of home businesses. He studied local laws extensively, then endured months of tedious back-and-forths with local regulators, because even they assumed it wouldn’t be allowed. “Finally, everybody went, ‘Oh, OK. There’s no law or rule against this,’” Smythe said. “Just because it didn’t occur to somebody doesn’t mean you can’t do it.”

With cute Dutch doors and his wife’s surrounding gardens, the non-garage-driveway-building that Smythe refers to as “this little arts and crafts bungalow house” was a charming starter home for Pastry Pants. “People would tell me that they felt like you’re in this fairy tale,” says Smythe. “And then the door opens up and a bearded guy is like, ‘Can I help you?’ I started realizing that years from now, kids and families are going to remember when we did this.”

When Scott and Theresa Richardson decided to close Occasionally Yours, a café in downtown Swarthmore, after 35 years in business, and began looking to fill the space with a new retailer, Smythe jumped at the opportunity. His 14-page proposal emphasized the vital role of a bakery in the community: “It’s a place where people celebrate, and can appreciate that they’re consuming things that mean they are not in a place of strife.”

Smythe got the space, which he’s transformed into another kind of fairy tale, with marble counters, ornately textured English wallpaper, and antique glass cases. The storefront reads “BAKERY” in giant letters, the way you might see the words “Patisserie” in France or “Panificio” in Italy, evoking excitement from across the street: “Pastry Pants” is written in much smaller letters on the glass door. The divide between kitchen and store is intentionally porous, with breaks in the wall that separates the two, offering glimpses that encourage the connection between baker and consumer. All of his bakers work front and back of house, both so they can speak knowledgeably about the menu and so they can see people’s “oh my god” faces after biting into a lemon polenta cookie.

With Smythe’s German background and influence, it should come as no surprise that the golden brown Bavarian pretzel is one of Pastry Pants’ highlights. (This may be Delco, but don’t call it a “soft pretzel” – I was gently corrected by an employee on a recent visit.) Mr. Pants will not be boxed in, however: He’s making continent-spanning classics from Portuguese pasteis de nata to puffy Czech kolaches, as well as American mainstays like chocolate chip scones and big slices of moist, lemony carrot cake. Recent hits include big, cream-stuffed maritozzi, sweet Italian brioche buns filled with whipped cream, and German brötchen filled with ham. In the future, Smythe hopes to be open around dinner time, so people can swing by on their way home from work and pick up quiche and a baguette.

Unlike overly precious French pastry that “dares you to eat it,” Smythe wants to make approachable yet joyful treats that “people aren’t afraid to just walk out the door to eat, enjoy, and move on with their lives.” His sweet spot, it would seem, is weaving magic into the quotidian. An act as simple as buying a bag of shortbread on your commute can offer a spark of excitement that is necessary to the human experience. “People need theater in their lives and we need to find it in lots of different places, not just in these temples of entertainment,” he says.

Swarthmore has never had a proper bakery, and now it’s hard to imagine it without one. “I think I’ve helped people kind of tune into who they are and what they want,” Smythe says. “That’s the job I had as a director. ‘You didn’t know you needed this – but isn’t it fun that you do?’”

Pastry Pants is open Wednesday to Sunday, from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. or until sold out. It is located at 10 Park Avenue in Swarthmore’s town center.