The Food Nazi

By this point in time, my handle on the French language had progressed quite a ways. "Un baguette," I said, gesturing confidently to the stockage of baguette rifles behind the clerk. She (another French-speaking Asian storeclerk) nodded, reached behind her for the nearest basket containing a bounty of fresh-baked loaves, and handed me a thin narrow baguette loaf wrapped only in a sheet of waxy butcher paper around its midsection, not uncommon for most baguettes sold in Paris.

My eyes hungrily scoured the shop until it found another victim: a brioche. As I said earlier, I have tried to convince myself (rather unsuccessfully) that I am capable of being a brioche man. I decided to give it yet another shot. "Un brioche," I stated. The Asian woman nodded again and handed me the brioche. I paid for my purchases and scurried off in search of the nearest park bench which was just a stone's throw from the shop.

Sitting down, I unwrapped the brioche first and tasted. The buttery flesh practically melted in my mouth upon contact. Its interior was much more eggy than most other brioche I've tried in the past. Its textures were marvelous - a gorgeous lightness and springiness. The crust was thin and flaky, oozing butter from its every pore. And, for a moment, I was hooked.

That was, until I took a bite of the baguette.....Its perfectly consistent and crispy exterior crackled like a fine brittle candy, giving way into a moisty, chewy interior that was not too dense which had a fragrance of fresh-baked bread. And, in that instant, I could think of nothing except how perfect it was to be here on a summer's afternoon basking in the flavors and textures of absolute genius. I'm a baguette man, remember?

THE BRIOCHE AWARD

Winner: Moulin de la Vierge (see above)

THE PASTRY AWARD

Winner: Poilane - Apple Tarte

Located on Cherche Midi, just off of Boulevard Raspail, Poilane has long been an institution of French baking. Every Parisian knows about it and every tourist has heard of it. And while both the renowned baker and his mother have since passed away, their legacy lives on in the spirit of their timeless breads and pastries.

A foreign service officer and fellow Yale alumnus, Mr. M, recommended this bakery to me when I mentioned my plans to travel to Paris for the weekend. For nearly an hour and a half, he recounted to me his many wonderful memories of being in Paris as a recent graduate working in the American Embassy. His favorite haunt was the original Poilane branch on Cherche Midi. He'd stop in at his favorite bakery every morning for a loaf of white country bread. The woman behind the counter, Poilane's mother, would offer him free French lessons upon every visit. His progress in learning the language would be handsomely rewarded with a butter cookie, one of Poilane's more prized creations. More notable achievement would be rewarded with two or more cookies. Mr. M's eyes seemed to wax over with nostalgia as he recounted, a fondness for the delicious memories of a time since past, and I secretly vowed to return from my visit with a bag of these precious butter cookies.

To be honest, finding yourself at the storefront to Poilane is like finding yourself at the doorstep to a sacred Buddhist monastery. The setting is so serene, so untouched. I watch as patrons pass through these doors like austere taoist monks in bowed reverence. And you know, the minute to set foot into the shop, you are on hallowed ground.

But, as with any sacred place, there is a great comfort in finding yourself within its walls. Shelves are stacked with round tire-shaped rustic loaves. The store windows are decorated with rustic soccer balls, bagged butter cookies tied with silver twist ties, savory tarts and colorful pies. It exudes the same warmth I have come to appreciate about bakeries, a kind of good-natured warmth that fills you from the inside out.

The clerks eyed me from behind the counter, on which rested a larger wicker basket full of fresh butter cookies. I eyed the rack of fresh baked tarts and pointed to the apple tart. "Apple pie," said a kindly looking French clerk who had somehow snuck up on me while I was gawking at the assortment of goodies. "Un," I said, indictating it as well with my pointer finger. She took a tiny square of wax paper and picked up one of the apple tarts, placing it in a white paper bag with elegant green print. "Un croissant," I indicated, pointing at a flaky crossaint near the shop window. She nodded again and added the croissant to the bag.

I paid for the two pastries and made off for the nearest park which, just my luck, happened to be near the intersection of Raspail and Cherche Midi - an enclosure of tall shrubs separating the moving traffic from a tiny plot of grass and a few lime green park benches.

The apple tarte was simply divine. Its luxuriently flaky crust encased the savory apple filling. One of its most pleasant aspects was its natural sweetness. Most pastries using baked apples tend to reflect an artificial sweetness completely alien from the natural sweetness of fresh apples which, if actually given the chance to express itself on its own merits, has the ability to intoxicate the senses with the taste of summer orchards. I was delighted to find that the filling for this apple tarte was full of natural sweetness from baked apples which were cut just large enough to extend their velvety textures to the flakiness of the pastry crust and the creaminess of the apple filling.

The croissant was less impressive, though hardly a disappointment. I suppose my taste buds were too enthused by the taste of fresh summer harvests from the apple tarte to respond very well to the more modest flavors of the croissant. Suffice it to say, the croissant was unduly eclipsed by the apple tarte.

In a later visit nearer to the end of my trip, I returned to Poilane for another apple tarte and a slice of flan. The flan was baked with a custardy interior in a thin pie crust. The interior was dense and rubbery, completely unsupported by the discrepantly thin crust. To add to its unappealing textures, the flan had flavors reminiscent of a cold tire.

Yet, while the flan clearly fell short of the unreasonably high standards set by Poilane, the apple tarte continued to meet its dues, if not overcompensating for the inconsistency of the rubbery flan and unremarkable croissant combined. It is truly deserving of this title for "best pastry." Unlike most others in its class, this apple tarte defies the general misconceptions of pastry by marrying natural, pure flavors and beautiful craftsmanship to create a delicacy that is both simple and elegant.

THE DESSERT AWARD

Winner: Gerard Mulot - Tarte Lait Chocolat

Welcome to heaven! And, nothing says "bonjour" like a pyramid contructed of assorted macaroons. Similarly, nothing says "please marry me" like a tart filled with molten dark chocolate so pure and a butter shortbread crust so decadent. For nonfoodies and foodies alike, Gerard Mulot is nothing short of spectacular, if only just for the sheer visual spectacle that is sure to leave anyone breathless (especially diabetics).

Walking into the store, I was completely taken aback by the expanse of the Mulot empire. The room was essentially divided into three parts. The section farthest from the entrance was completely inhabited by breads of all shapes and sizes. The middle section was devoted to macaroons of any variety. Macaroon-lovers will be certain to visit just to pay homage to the macaroon pyramid that sits like a golden idol in the shop window. The section closest to the entrance is a counter completely populated by chocolate truffles, chocolate pastries and tartes, and just about everything you could possibly imagine.

And nothing screams Mulot more loudly than his chocolate tarte. Generally I am of the school of thought that completely rejects entrusting popular opinion to influence my decisions as pertains to food (an opinion reflected quite strongly in my horrific experiences at Sadaharu AOKI several days prior). But, with a reputation that utterly screamed to be embraced, I could do no wrong by entrusting my appetite to the consent of many respectable foodies before me: I chose the tarte.

Did I regret it? You bet I didn't! Determined to find a cozy park bench, I trekked for nearly half an hour trying to find one until I finally gave in. With pastry box in hand, containing one single chocolate tarte, I resorted to stopping at the closest avaiable park bench. And a good thing too because, as I peeled open the lid of the box, I discovered that nearly half of the luxurient chocolate filling had already begun to spill out into the box. Picking up the tarte gently between two fingers, I could almost smell the richness of the chocolate and the buttery decadence of its shortbread crust.

One bite was enough to seal my decision: absolute nirvana. The molten chocolate with the decadent shortbread crust set my sweet-o-meter on total overdrive. The crust did not suffer from the fate of most other chewy or stale shortbread crusts, but instead maintained a fantastically consistent texture that married well with the silky chocolate.

Lending to its overall charm, the chocolate filling was sweeter than your traditional dark chocolate but had mysterious bitter notes that gave it a satisfying finish that appeased the dark chocolate lover in me. Milk chocolate afficionados will be satisfied to know that it had the characteristics of milk chocolate, while dark chocolate lovers will also be appeased by its darker undertones. Topping it all off was a crumbly pecan shortbread cookie, an elegantly simply finish to this beautifully elegant dessert.

At only 3 euros, this dessert is definitely worth its price in gold. For those of you with less of a sweet tooth, Mulot offers a wide selection of other items that will be sure to satisfying your indelible cravings. And, if you're just in the neighborhood and feeling surprisingly full, it's always nice to fill up on the visual thrill that Mulot offers, especially with that amazing macaroon tower!

THE INNOVATOR AWARD

Winner: Sadaharu AOKI (See previous post)

HONORABLE MENTION

Pierre Herme - Carrement Chocolat Individule, Macaroons

Au Levain du Marais - Baguette

Laduree - Macaroons