Judging by the line outside Carlo’s City Hall Bake Shop in northern New Jersey – from the front door to the corner, then east toward the Hudson River – you’d think the Boss was inside. Given all the flashing cameras, the outstretched hands gripping autograph books and the squeals of excitement, you’d be right.

But don’t be mistaken: This is the Boss of Hoboken, aka Bartolo “Buddy” Valastro, the Italian-American baker, cake decorator and cable-TV star who plays with fondant and modeling chocolate, not a guitar and a backup band.

“We feel very lucky to have Buddy and Carlo’s bakery,” Hoboken Mayor Dawn Zimmer said. “Hoboken was known before, but now it’s even more known.”

‘This is my town’

To be sure, the Jersey city a river over from Manhattan maintains an impressive list of famous folks and firsts. Frank Sinatra and photographer Alfred Stieglitz were born here; the first electric train departed from here (driven by Thomas Edison, no less); and the zipper and ice cream are local inventions. Now add to that roster Valastro and his family’s 100-year-old Italian bakery, which last spring went from hometown pastry shop to national sensation with the debut of the TLC reality show “Cake Boss.”

The show, whose third season starts May 31, shadows the pop-eyed dynamo as he constructs sculptural confections amid the antics of his extended Italian family. And while Buddy and company are the main stars, they share the stage with Hoboken. More than just a backdrop, the city is integral to Valastro’s narrative.

“I am really, really proud to say that I am from Hoboken,” said Valastro, who was raised in nearby Little Ferry but logged countless hours at the bakery growing up. “I feel like this is my town. Me and Frank.”

An unofficial ambassador of Hoboken, Valastro, 33, gave me a “Cake Boss” tour. His storefront is simple, with a reddish sign carved in gold script that reads “Carlo’s City Hall Bake Shop.”

Valastro explains that, before exploring Hoboken, he wanted to go to Italy, to the warm ovens and memories of his forebears. Both his great-grandfather and his grandfather worked as bread bakers in Sicily and his father continued the tradition in New Jersey, his adopted home from age 13. However, his father, also Bartolo/Buddy, did not care for the long hours required of a bread baker, so he switched to pastries, apprenticing at Carlo’s, established in 1910 on Adams Street.

Buddy Sr. bought the business from Carlo Guastaffero in 1963 and 26 years later moved it to its current location, supplanting a German bakery.

“My father wanted a big bakery where all of his kids could work together,” said Valastro, who has continued that family tradition by filling the bakery with his four sisters, his wife, his mother, one aunt, three brothers-in-law, two cousins and occasional cameos from his two sons and daughter (ages 3, 5 and 7).

After his father died, in 1994, the 17-year-old baby of the family dropped out of high school to oversee the business.

“My father had these awesome old-school recipes for cookies and pastries, but I knew the art of baking,” said the self-trained baker, whose staff makes up to 600 birthday cakes and 40 to 60 specialty cakes a week. “I knew that I could make modern cakes that go ‘wow’ and taste great but still stick to our roots.

“I am definitely hanging on to these traditions because I want to, not because I have to,” Valastro added. “I can’t turn my back on the way we did things.”

Rock-star parking

We piled into our sightseeing bus, a white Lincoln Navigator. Turning toward the Hudson, Valastro starting calling out personal landmarks: Caru, where he gets his hair cut by Curtis; TD Bank, where an employee named Antoinette tends to his finances.

“I love staying at the W and eating at Zylo,” he said about the hipster property and its Tuscan steakhouse. “It’s such an upscale, night-life place.”

We drove a block down to the river and Sinatra Park, a calming recreational space with a waterfront walkway, a gazebo and the best panorama of the Manhattan skyline.

“We have awesome views of New York,” he said as we peered out the car windows. In Valastro’s younger days, the shoreline was tumbledown and not worthy of its vantage point.

“It used to be old piers and a back road,” he said. “They really developed it. It’s really beautiful.”

In terms of parking, Hoboken can be difficult. But not on Adams Street.

“You can double-park here,” he said, stopping his vehicle a car’s width from the curb. “The cops won’t bother you at Fiore’s.”

Valastro entered the deli to a chorus of Jersey-Italian greetings: “Hey, Buddy, how you doin’?”

Vinnie Amato, who runs Fiore’s with his brother, two nephews and a brother-in-law, shares a history with the Valastros. The deli, which opened in 1913, abutted the original Carlo’s bakery.

Amato laid out cheese for us to sample. The mozzarella (or, as they corrected me, “mutz-er-ella”) was squishy, like bubble gum, with a subtle briny tang.

“For mozzarella, there’s nowhere better,” enthused Valastro. “This is the best.”

At Piccolo’s, it was more of the same: double-parking and an exuberant entrance, followed by a “How ya doin’?,” this time directed at owner Patty Spaccavento. The one-room restaurant is known for its cheesesteak sandwiches and Ol’ Blue Eyes playlist.

Spaccavento “ain’t going to make you Buffalo wings,” Valastro said. “You come in and it’s always the same. And Frank is always playing.”

Across the long orange counter, a wall displayed dozens of photos of patrons, famous or not. One face was missing from the crowd.

“Am I on the wall?” Valastro asked.

“No,” Spaccavento replied, “you’re never here when we pull out the camera.” (Among those who were: singer Richie Havens, actor Danny Aiello and a strong showing of locals.)

The main attraction

Back at the bakery, Valastro parked in the snowy alley and entered through the kitchen door, away from the crowds. The store attracts 3,000 to 4,000 people a week, and a Cake Boss sighting can unleash a ruckus.

Few see the operations beyond the glass cases crammed with creamy and crispy, chocolate and vanilla, cookie and caky treats. Fans of the show, however, have an idea of the goings-on beyond viewing range: the giant mixers spinning a tornado of frosting, the elves sculpting modeling chocolate into fanciful characters, the relatives hollering at each other.

“Our family’s nuts,” said Faugno, as his wife, Valastro’s sister Grace, shouted questions about a missing order over the intercom.

Many patrons visit the shop with two missions: to glimpse Valastro or any of the cast, and to take away a bag of baked goods. After tending to some behind-the-scenes business, Valastro entered the store stage left. Visitors gasped; the order-taking ceased. Waving and smiling, he walked the length of the counter before joining the scrum. Amid the crowd, Trisha Dowd of Middletown, N.J., stood with her family, hoping to fulfill her daughter’s Christmas-birthday wish.

“It was her dream to come here to the bakery,” Dowd said of 8-year-old Kaitlin, wearing a T-shirt covered in “Cake Boss” family autographs. “We came twice before and the line was too long.”

Little Kaitlin, your wish has been granted.

Leanne Glynn missed the live Cake Boss show by a half-hour, but she compensated with an order of crumb cake, cupcakes and cannoli.

“Everyone thought we were nuts to drive four hours for a picture,” said the Bostonian, who road-tripped with her sister and kids. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Rest assured, even those who don’t see Valastro in person still leave the bakery with a slice of Hoboken.

“I want people to get a taste of Hoboken all over America,” the boss said.

In the spirit of this Jersey town and its Cake Boss, I suggest trying a tough yet sweet Italian cookie.