San Leandro’s TikTok-Famous Chinese Bakery Sandwiches Herald the Year of the Fried Fishwich

I knew those damned fish sandwiches had reached peak virality when my cousin in Wisconsin texted me about them.

I deleted TikTok after it formally transferred over to its new U.S.-based owners (and began a covert regime of data tracking and censorship), but among the last things I saw were videos hyping up Chinese Bakery and Deli, a tiny, nearly 40-year-old joint in a San Leandro strip mall, which, as the name clearly denotes, serves pastries. In each clip, the food influencers show off big, pink boxes stacked with golden-brown and fluffy baked bao, each sliced in half and filled with panko-crusted fried fish or chicken. The sandwiches are slicked with mayonnaise on each side, and that’s all. You watch the influencer bite into one, usually in the front seat of their car, and there’s an audible crisp-crunch as teeth descend: first into the crackly outer crust of the bao, then into the fried breading. There were A LOT of videos exactly like this, which seemed to collectively rack up hundreds of thousands of views.

Adding to the hype is the fact that each sandwich is $3.50 — an almost fairytale price in today’s Bay Area.

I visited the bakery three times over the course of the last month, and with each successive venture, the impact of the exposure became exponentially more dramatic. The first time, on Jan. 10, I simply walked in. About a week and a half later, I arrived at 1pm and found a small crowd of foodies clutching invisible pearls when the staff announced the sandwiches were sold out for the moment. A week after that, I showed up at 9:30am and the bakery’s line had already curled around the corner of the block. Recently, a reporter at SFGate waited in line for two hours. (That’s too much, man.)

Compounding the emotional damage of queuing up for sandwiches is the fact that, if you’re taking I-880 southbound to get there, you’ll have to proceed past a billboard on the off-ramp that reminds you: “You can’t avoid rush hour traffic. You can avoid prediabetes.” But it’s worth noting that once you arrive, the staff — entirely women — do an amazing job of shepherding the mass of newbies, disgruntled regulars, and lookie-loos all day.

Is it worth the hype? I’ll say this: At this price, the sandwiches make an excellent canvas for other flavors. On first bite, I really wished I had thought ahead and brought a bottle of Crystal with me. But why not dream bigger?

Hello I have visited the pit that emits oracular vapors of restaurant trend prophesy and have had a vision that fried fish sandwiches (upscaleified Filets-o-Fish et al) are on the cusp of being a huge huge thing and are only gonna get huger

— Helen Rosner (@hels.bsky.social) January 19, 2026 at 1:47 PM

Last month, New Yorker food critic Helen Rosner mused on Bluesky that perhaps this year might be the dawn of the fried fish sandwich era, and I think she’s right on. In Brooklyn, acclaimed restaurants like Gertrude’s, a Jewish bistro, and the neo-Chinese Bonnie’s debuted new takes on the Filet-O-Fish sandwich last month. The former breads the fish in matzoh crumbs for its Sunday special, while the latter, for a limited-time collaboration with food magazine Bon Appetít, fried a mousse-like cod-and-shrimp cake and topped it with a ginger- and scallion-infused tartar sauce.

Locally, you’ll find a similar take at Lovely’s in Oakland, where sustainably fished rockfish fillets are crusted with panko, then served with pickles and American cheese on a potato bun ($14.50). “Fish sells out daily!” notes Lovely’s website. At the new-ish Nopa Fish in San Francisco’s Ferry Terminal building, the “Rocky” ($21) also uses rockfish, but does it up bánh mì-style with a jalapeño-ginger-spiked daikon and carrot slaw, and a sprinkle of lime juice.

Inspired by all of this, I took home a few specimens from San Leandro to see what I could add. To aid in my quest, I stopped by Of All Places, a well-stocked specialty food shop in Berkeley’s Thousand Oaks neighborhood. The shelves are filled with choice bottles of wine, exciting brands of chips from exotic locales like Brussels and Concord, Calif., pints of locally made ice cream, and enough condiments to spin off hundreds of inspired sandwich variations.

I challenged co-owner Joe Catalino — a former sommelier — to pick out some options, and he readily complied. Fried foods demand brightness, which is why Champagne is such a good pairing with French fries. Yes, you can go with Crystal on these, but why not adorn the sandwiches with the luminous, vinegar-forward pique sauce from San Rafael’s Puerto Rican stalwart, Sol Food? (That was the big winner of the pack, but I loved his other suggestions, too.)

I found myself smothering these sandwiches with the creamy, emulsified serrano-and-tomatillo salsa from Bolita, the Berkeley-based masa company. It’s just a smidge spicy, with refreshing grassy notes from the jalapeños in there. It cools the palate nicely as you eat freshly fried (or refreshed) meat.

For a more Asian-influenced take, I picked up a jar of jangajji — serranos and Korean radish pickled in soy sauce — made by San Francisco’s Queens. These sandwiches don’t need more salt, but the crisp pickles are a must. Combined with miso-and-sesame mayonnaise, these gave me that Filet-O-Fish mix of textures I craved. If you want to add more air to the mix, shredded iceberg lettuce or thinly sliced red or sweet onion would of course work well here.

In an ideal world, you’d be bringing a box of these sandwiches to a gathering where there are a ton of condiments available so you could mix and match to your liking. Or maybe bring it all in a picnic basket and set up while you wait in line. Now that would be the perfect party snack.

Chinese Bakery and Deli
981 Manor Blvd, San Leandro
510-708-8498
7am–3pm daily
What to order: The fish and chicken sandwiches are worth the wait, but BBQ pork bun ($2), pineapple butter bun ($3.50), and cocktail bun ($1.75) are also excellent. 
Good to know: While cash is king, the bakery does take cards. It’s best to go before 9am to avoid the worst of the lines.