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Last week I left “youse all” at the edge of your seats with The Frenchman, Part One.
We’ll get back to that dysfunction next week.
Today there’s an intense full moon, I just woke up from a hard nap and I’m in the mood for something flaky and buttery.
I can go deep with my writing, but also…butter you guys. Salted French butter laminated between layers of dough is a recipe for absolute primal joy in my world. Sitting in a cafe somewhere far away, still sleepy, with a frothy coffee and a perfectly dark, crusty croissant on the table is a life goal of mine. When in France, one must commence croissanting.
For context, I documented my croissanting over the course of almost three months in 2019 whilst walking the Camino de Santiago from Le Puy, France to Santiago de Compostela, Spain.
Let’s begin, no? Oui.
Saint-Privat-d'Allier, France. Oh god, this town was ridiculously darling.
First this sign.
Then this view.
And this croissant.
Want to know why some croissants are curved and others straight? Here, go read about it. Straight-edged croissants are made with butter, curved with margerine. Apparently it’s the damn law in France.
Why am I not living there?
Malbouzon, France: A village in the middle of nowhere. The only thing I remember that day is the backs of my knees got sunburned, which is a particular kind of pain.
On my way out of town the next morning at the local boulangerie, I faintly remember the croissants looking a little sad, languishing even. So I broke my own rule by purchasing a pain aux raisin. Not a croissant, but still a laminated dough, so it deserves a feature.
No regrets y’all. No regrets.
Estaing, France: I mean can we talk about the view? I about died when I walked into town. Surely there must be a croissant that matches the view, no?
And lo, there was.
This was a DELISH-SHUS croissant. Super satisfying, crusty, buttery. It hit all the right notes that morning.
Somewhere around Golinhac, France? Can’t remember exact location. I grabbed a jambon et fromage croissant earlier that morning for my rest stop lunch. Most businesses in France, especially in smaller towns and villages, close up shop on Sundays and Mondays, so gotta plan ahead.
I just remember sitting by the side of the road with this view, shoving the greasy goodness in my mouth, blissed out, listening to church bells in the distance.
Cahors, France: I nabbed this at the local boulangerie and it could go down as my one of my favorite croissants. A hint of malty sourness, clean yet creamy buttery notes and a dark crust.
Also, if the pastry shatters in a million pieces from just one bite, that’s a sign of real craftsmanship.
Larceveau-Arros-Cibits, Basque Country, France: We’re rolling in the foothills of the Pyrenees now, getting closer to Spain.
I thoroughly enjoyed this croissant. The little bakery was off the path but I had no problem losing 30 minutes of walking if it meant I could have this for breakfast.
Priorities.
Later that morning, I walked by a farm that had a little rest stop for pilgrims. Housed in a little wooden shed, with a picnic bench outside.
Coffee and tea, bread, farm-fresh yogurts, milk and cheese in the ice box…all by donation.
Again, I’m living in the wrong country.
I hope you enjoyed some croissant escapism. We all need laminated dough distraction these days. Future installments of “Croissanting, a Lifestyle” include Spain and SE Asia. It’s going to be bananas.
In the comments below, please share with me your favorite croissant memories.
I’m serious. Tell me everything. I live for this kind of thing.
Croissanting, a Lifestyle™
This was a fun read! I’m a sucker for a good croissant. My favorite memory isn’t of one specific croissant, but I yearn for the days when I studied abroad in Lyon and could just walk into any old bakery (or even a Monoprix, for that matter) and find something so light and buttery it would practically melt in my mouth. I used to have picnics with friends in the Parc de la Tête-à-tête d’Or where we’d set out whatever breads and pastries we found at the nearest bakery and have a feast. It was bliss!
Also, there’s a French bakery in my neighborhood in Cairo whose croissants could rival anything I’ve had in Lyon or Paris (blasphemy, I know). I love sitting in the café’s backyard with a croissant, a cappuccino, and the sweet shop cats.
A wonderful post, Erin - who knew that croissanting is a thing?! A brilliant journey exploration of the French laminated pastry! Thank you for that great link about croissant shapes with reference to butter content - I was wondering (and in fact am still wondering!) why the French would still go ahead and call a straight croissant a croissant - really interesting!
My best croissant memory is of the total eclipse of the sun in August (I think!) 1999 (I think!). I fetched some almond croissants from the bakery across the road from our office and insisted that all of my colleagues join me on the roof of the building to watch the eclipse while we ate them.
(Turns out it's quite hard to eat something that flaky in the dark!)