South Florida Bakery Makes Best Mouth-Watering Cinnamon Bread

Before there was Wicked Bread Co., there were Eddie and Betty Diaz, two Miami-Dade educators who never imagined they’d be running one of South Florida’s most talked-about bakeries. What began as a homemade cinnamon bread Betty baked for her grandmother eventually snowballed into a side hustle that refused to stay small.

Their first public test came at a 2019 Friendsgiving. One loaf turned into a conversation starter, then a revelation. By early 2020, they had launched a booth at the Yellow Green Farmers Market in Hollywood, where the air around them smelled of butter, sugar, and excitement.

The pandemic shut that down fast, but it didn’t stop them. The Diazes continued to bake from home, rising before dawn to hand-deliver loaves across Miami. It was an old-school, door-to-door operation built on hustle and word of mouth, and it worked. People didn’t just want Wicked Bread; they needed it. By the time the world reopened, they’d built a devoted following that stretched from Homestead to Palm Beach.

A Wicked Space for a Wicked Bread

In 2024, they moved their operation to a full-blown storefront in Plantation. It’s hard to miss. The smell of cinnamon hits you before the sign does. Inside, Wicked Bread Co. embraces its name with charm: think cozy witch’s cottage meets Halloween pop culture. A fireplace mantle stacked with faux spell books, vines creeping across the walls, murals of movie witches, and an oversized tree anchoring the room. It’s playful, nostalgic, and unmistakably them.

But décor is just the bait. The real draw is the bread. The “Classic” is the backbone, a warm, soft loaf with a swirl of cinnamon and butter that’s finished with velvety cream cheese icing made from scratch. It’s indulgent without being overbearing, the kind of comfort food that disappears faster than you can stop yourself.

From there, things get more fiendish. The “6 Degrees of Maple Bacon” cinnamon bread strikes a balance between sweetness and smoky crunch. The “Swine in a Sweater,” a smoked sausage wrapped in flaky pastry and drizzled with maple glaze icing, pushes sweet and savory into new territory. Add in empanadas (beef, chicken, ham and cheese, spinach, or pizza) and pastelitos (guava, guava and cheese, cheese, or meat), and you’ve got a menu that reads like a greatest hits album of South Florida comfort food.

Everything’s baked daily. When they sell out, and they often do, that’s it. No shortcuts, no second batch. The dough takes hours to prepare, and the Diazes refuse to compromise.

Comparisons to other South Florida cinnamon staples are inevitable, but Wicked Bread plays its own game.

Beyond Cinnamon Bread

Where others go dense and sticky, Betty’s loaves are lighter, softer, and more balanced. One bite doesn’t leave you feeling like you’ve hit a sugar wall; it leaves you wanting more.

This isn’t a roll you tear into with a fork; it’s bread you can share, toast, or eat straight out of the box while it’s still warm. The icing complements rather than overpowers. There’s restraint here, which makes it all the more addictive.

And unlike the seasonal bakeries that shutter when the weather changes, Wicked Bread keeps the ovens running year-round. Plantation locals have adopted it as their go-to weekend ritual, while out-of-towners plan detours off I-595 to grab a loaf before they sell out.

Built on Grit (and Butter)

What makes Wicked Bread Co. special isn’t just the flavor, it’s the persistence behind it. The Diazes built this business through early mornings, long nights, and a level of dedication that would make most current professional bakers flinch. They could have given up after that pandemic shutdown. Instead, they doubled down.

Now that they’ve expanded, the goal isn’t to franchise or flood the market. It’s to stay consistent, experiment with monthly “Wicked Specials,” and keep that local connection alive. Recent creations, such as “The Silence of the Pecans” or “The Bananastein,” show that they can have fun without losing focus.

There’s no gimmick here, and no influencer-engineered hype. Just a husband-and-wife team who turned a family recipe into something genuinely worth the drive. Wicked Bread Co. isn’t trying to dethrone anyone. It’s carving out its own space in South Florida’s ether, one loaf at a time…maybe two, because one isn’t enough.

Wicked Bread Co. 1263 S. Pine Island Rd., Plantation; 305-912-7323; wickedbread.com.