One of my dearest friends arrived in Paris last night, for fashion week. She invited me to go last-minute (!@#$$%) and I squealed and said “yes!” and then looked at my calendar, which was piled with immovable and important client events over each day we’d be in France (!#$%^$).
So today I want to lie on my sofa and shovel chocolates and cheese into my mouth while wiping away tears with a scented French hankie.
And so, chocolate. I came upon this image nigh about the time I was invited to go to France, and when I realized that the photo was of a Parisian chocolaterie, I stood up, went into the kitchen, and ate a slice of cake.
Not going to Paris is making me fat.
Just look at this:
Le Chocolat is the creation of Michelin-starred chef Alain Ducasse, which means the confections will be as glorious as the case that holds them. Can we pause a moment for the brass trim? And the knobs? And those fantastic industrial pendants hanging above?
This is industrial design at its best.
I’d be a happy girl visiting this place without any chocolate at all.
My friend promises to go, and I hope she brings me back a chocolate — or a brass knob. Both would be equally welcome.
And I hope she has the house specialty, which is a piece of chocolate wrapped in bread. French bread. Howl.
When my husband and I were in Paris for our wedding, we spent an afternoon on a chocolate crawl, which is an excellent thing to do in Paris, where the chocolateries look like high-fashion boutiques and the candies are encased under glass like Chanel pearls.
Our list included Jacques Genin — where the chocolates are so exquisitely careful I don’t know how anyone can eat them.
And Patisserie des Reves, which feels like Willy Wonka’s Factory and is home to the best versions of classic French pastries like the Paris Brest and St. Honore.
You actually lift those glass cases and point to what you’d like to have — and then walk away with your mouth full of lemon meringue and your mind dancing with inspiration.
Only in Paris, mon amour.