So after being notified that I have high-ish cholesterol (particularly high for someone who eats a plant-based diet and is active), what do I do? I fly to France, land of puff pastries and promptly eat my little heart out. Just this week, I’ve had the following:
This tropezienne is a delicious treat with whipped buttercream sandwiched between brioche cake, rock sugar sprinkled on top. YUM.
This is called a meringue. It is hard on the outside with a marshmallow-y center. It’s gooey and lovely, but there is something just a bit strange at the end. Not an aftertaste exactly, before that. Hard to describe.
The caramel scoop on the bottom (which left oo so delicious caramel bits stuck to my teeth) was better than the pistachio scoop on top.
I was slightly disappointed with this éclair because it was full of something like chocolate pudding when I was expecting a decadent whipped buttercream. But the dark and swarthy man who sold it to me was charming, with the little children running in and out of his shop, calling his name, and catching the little chocolates he threw at them.
I’ve forgotten what this was called, but let’s call it AMAZING. The whipped middle is hazelnut and mind-blowing and the crust is a light, flaky pastry shell, made sweeter with sprinkled powdered sugar.
…and this does not include the croissants, chocolates, macrons or chocolate-covered tea biscuits that have also been happening in high frequency.
So the bottom line folks, is if the worst I can do is gorge myself on puffy pastries in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, so be it. I’m not sorry. And neither should you be, my weirdo-artsy-type friends. Embrace your strange and amazing gifts. The world will be sweeter for it.