chillin' in the shadow of Eiffel

I recently spent 10 days in Paris with Al and Jim and loved every minute of it even though Murphy’s Law kept calling our name. While I was there we had a bout of food poisoning in the 150 square foot apartment that kept the music playing and faucets running with every uncomfortable and urgent call of nature. On top of the plague, the hot water tank, or balloon as they say in France, decided to stop working for 6 of the 10 days of my stay. We persevered with awkward baths consisting of 4inches scalding hot water (a sense of guilt would rush over you when you added a little cold water from the tap) because we boiled the kettle and the biggest pot on the 2 burner stove at least three times over and All Mighty help you if you accidentally pulled the plug before you were finished rinsing.

6 different cheeses, grapes, salad and wine. mmmm

Through all the trials and tribulations one of the highlights of the trip was a buzzed visit (bread, cheese and a bottle of wine for lunch) to Carl Marletti for dessert. The patisserie was immaculate, every pastry and dessert in neat little rows. Al immediately picked out a tower of purple goodness called Lily Valley and urged me to try a chocolate dome thingy (the name escapes me) that I think she secretly wanted to try, two birds with one stone, why not? At first I was skeptical; it looked like a boob covered in cocoa powder… appetizing for some I suppose. I predicted it would taste like the cocoa power your mom used to use to make chocolate cake, when you would dip you’re dirty little figure into the can and insert directly into your mouth hoping to savor bliss when in actuality it was like eating brown sidewalk chalk.

I was wrong. The brown boob was the most delicious chocolate delight I’ve ever had. For those of you who don’t know, I’m more of a savory person, sweets are not my go-to-satisfaction, but this was good. It was a dome of chocolate mouse on a chocolate graham wafer platform. The temperature of the dessert is what I noticed most, the coolness of the chocolate seemed to waylay the serendipity and when you held it in your mouth and let it warm up that’s when the hypnosis took over and life was unicorns and children laughing. The powder on the outside was everything I expected as a child in my mother’s kitchen, chocolate powdery bliss; no where was there a hint of bitter cocoa powder only smooth chocolate icing sugar, like brown clouds in a land where you get chocolate milk from brown cows. It was everything you should expect from an award winning baker.

I know now, there’s a reason they call Paris “la ville des gourmets”.