Back in the golden days of clear blue skies when we first set up shop in the 11ème, R. and I would frequently take advantage of the good weather with a post-dinner promenade. A chance to stretch the legs, settle the tummy, and explore the nooks and crannies of the new 'hood.
It was on one such excursion that we came across a display sufficiently intriguing to draw me across the street for closer inspection. A window filled with platter after platter of artfully stacked pastries in pale rosewater pinks, pistachio greens, almond beiges. Pretty to look at, but better to taste I decided.
Unphased by our inability to choose the dainty Algerian pastries by name, the friendly woman behind the counter simply followed the trajectory of our pointing fingers. There may have been an attempt to educate us on the finer points of the shop’s pâtisserie orientale but, to be honest, I was more concerned with choosing between the walnut and pistachio versions of something-er-other and wondering if that stack of honey-drenched baklava could possibly be for sampling. (It was. And I did.)
If you’ve ever stumbled upon a great out-of-the-way restaurant or discovered the best ____ in an unlikely place, you know well that dual feeling of excitement and smug pride that comes with the find. That was me with La Bague de Kenza. Located on an otherwise unassuming side street, I was convinced we’d discovered a hidden gem. Google quickly proved me wrong with, among other things, this New York Times article.
Alas, it may not be hidden, but it’s still a gem.
La Bague de Kenza
106 rue Saint-Mur
Labels: Away from the kitchen, Confections, Cookies