Fresh off the Eurostar after a long weekend in London, I had to re-Frenchify my palate. Shortbread and cinder toffee really can’t compensate for a lack of the above. Neither can the “fine pastries” of afternoon tea at Brown’s, Claridges, and The Dorchester. It was pretty humorous to see their ham-handed efforts, with only The
I head to Ladurée every day around 8:30 for my morning croissant. So when I got up last Sunday and sauntered over, I wasn’t too happy to remember a little too late that they don’t open ’til 10 on Dimanche. Plan B was then put into effect, which was to trot along to Gerard Mulot.