Warm…freshly baked chocolate-melty-in-the middle flakey croissants.
I’m no expert (ok, maybe kinda) but I SWEAR they put waaaay more butter in Parisian croissants than the cold dry flavorless versions we get in the US. Honestly, the two variations are SO different that we probably shouldn’t even be able to call what we serve croissants. It’s some kind of…copyright violation? The equivalent of saying a 1970 AMC Gremlin is absolutely the same as a 2012 Mercedes Benz S-Class. I mean, you can tell they are both CARS and that’s about the end of the similarity right? I’ve done extensive croissant research (see that, I turned it into something official rather than ordinary gluttony) and I can’t fine any relevant correlation between Croissant-French and Croissant-American. For breakfast this morning Jon ran down to the boulangerie next door and picked up two freshly baked croissants. And then he ran back up again…SIX FLIGHTS.
That’s right people, we are in the penthouse…because it’s the best. Well, it’s at the top anyway which is where we are. I’m not sure a 226 square foot studio qualifies for penthouse status (especially with a bathroom that is basically a SHOWER with a toilet in it – more on this later).
So yeah, six flights up and six flights down for two chocolate croissants – only one of which he ate. I would say perhaps he’s earned his morning meal?! I don’t think I’ve necessarily done the same since all I have accomplished so far is typing this up.
Two-Passports 