Where to start with this one. We stumbled across this Pâtisserie on the way home from visiting another one (sorry, what I actually meant to say was that we were cross-fitting across Paris and we gazelled past this place because desserts are a ‘sometimes’ food and we only eat cauliflower rice). Honestly, I can’t begin to express how happy this little place made me. Monsieur Lignac has a few shops but the one we visited was on Rue Pasteur. It was a small store, but holy hotcakes was the amazingness packed in there.
The first thing you notice as you walk in is of course, the desserts. It wasn’t an overwhelming amount of choice as so many patisseries have, but a perfect amount of various, beautifully presented gateaux. As I peeled myself away from the main display I noticed 2 other displays; one for pastries, and the other housed a number of Galettes de Roi (because it was just around the time of the Epiphany when we went). Above the Galettes was an assortment of chocolate. And while I am usually someone who staunchly places taste over presentation, I kept lifting my fingers up to buy blocks of handmade chocolate, and I well and truly was not motivated by their taste. The packaging was sleek, colourful and most definitely inviting.
We chose a lemon tart (I’ll get to that in a moment), but the service, first. Usually I’ll gloss over service because it’s either cold or good, generally speaking; nothing painful. However the shop assistants here were both smiley, super patient with my French and happy to answer all my questions. I was waiting behind a large group of tourists, and they were wiping out the store (so obviously, I was anxious. I needed that lemon tart). The girls were just as patient and kind, and did not lose their smiles once. It really left both Ed and I with such a warm feeling, because while it wasn’t as though a red carpet had been rolled out, it is the warmth in the way they dealt with us that we will remember.
My new lover was packaged in a gorgeous box with a little handle, and I clutched at it like a moron with a maniacal grin on my face on the walk home. The whole experience had made me feel so light and happy, and at this point I hadn’t even tried the tart yet.
Seconds ago I wrote that it was the warmth of the shop assistant that I’ll remember. That, but also the lemon tart. I think to call it a lemon tart is an actual insult. It was made up of shortcrust pastry, a layer of soft hazelnut biscuit, cream, lemon jam and lemon compote. The first thing I always notice is the pastry, and this was to the minute, perfectly cooked. The combination of the hazelnut, cream and lemon gave different textures while ensuring it was just the right amount of lemon zing, without overdoing it.
I made a blood pact with myself (Ed wasn’t keen to join, because he thinks no blood is necessary. He is still more than happy to go the store though) to myself that before the end of the year I will try everything in that shop. It’s just under a 2 hour round trip on foot from our place, and I will do it again and again and again. I could take the metro, but I think it’s probably not the worst idea to try and walk off what I very much intend to consume.