Here is my only record of possibly the best pastry of my entire life. Because they wrapped it so beautifully, I took a picture of the exquisite little package before tearing into it, and thus documented the name of the establishment: Y. Chantrelle, Patissier – Chocolatier, Paris 12eme. It was on a corner, it was packed with hungry fans, and the window display was delicious to behold.
The sublime pastry is the fig-topped one on the left. Layers of moist, dense, chewy coconut cake cradle mango mousse, topped with a passion fruit glaze. The name, Arawak, reflects its tropical inspiration. We ordered the Arawak and its brother pastry (topped with rhubarb mousse, it was also quite delicious) and carried them across the street to a sidewalk table at a cafe, where we ordered two coffees, unwrapped the jewels, and savored them with our tiny coffee spoons.
Ooh! You are making me want to re-neg on my sugar ban (and go to Paris once and for all!) Great writing… I love the imagery of “big-hatted ladies” and “tiny coffee spoons”…