All bread is not created equally…
Some would argue that it is the baguette and not the Eiffel Tower that defines Paris. I think I agree … Nothing compliments a meal like a crusty baguette, that long caramel colored loaf of pure nirvana …. just as nothing begins the day, makes the morning special, like a warm buttery croissant … flakey and delicate on the outside, moist and soft inside.
Paris is about food as much as monuments and museums, and no food in this city is better than the bread. Bread is morning joe, it’s the cover story to a sandwich, the companion with a meal, the perfect date for a cheese plate.
It’s how I began the day, and how I ended it. Although I dream dreams of the perfect croissant, the real treat for me is the baguette – the petit baguette.
I sipped wine and munched bread, cheese and saucisson every afternoon, as I sat on my balcony or at my “desk” table, making journal notes of the day.
It would be hard to say what was most wonderful about my studio stay this trip …. the balcony perch or the location. All I needed for happiness any time of day, was to walk out my front door, cross the narrow Rue Rambuteau and drop by the cuddly crumb (!!) — la Mie Câline – which was my local boulangerie.
In the morning I would wait for a fresh tray of croissants to come out of the oven. Warm and fresh is best and I didn’t even need coffee. Just opposite the boulangerie was a welcoming two-sided bench and I could sit there in dream state, savoring my first croissant of the day. (Yes, on occasions there were two-croissant days.)
Croissants are actually not French at all. They’re Viennese, created in celebration of the Habsburgs’ defeat of the Ottoman empire. Croissants only appeared in France in the mid-19th century, but though the pastry’s crescent shape comes from part of the Ottoman flag, the word (meaning crescent) and the mystic are definitely French.
So, while the other tourists rush off to the steel pyramid that dominates and defines the Paris cityscape, I’ll be sitting happily on my wooden bench on Rue Rambuteau, munching a warm cuddly crumb!
As Mae West said … Too much of a good thing can be wonderful !!