Does anyone else remember how good the Grand Avenue Mall used to smell back in the ‘80s when it was fresh and new and the perfect place through which a poor college student could follow her nose?
I do.
I remember exactly how good Au Bon Pain smelled back in the 80s because my whole house smelled like that yesterday morning during my daughter Molly’s triumphant tour through au tres bon pain, or the best croissants I’ve ever tasted.
What started out as an experiment to see how many different ways she could use her 25-year old sourdough turned into another I’ll-worry-about-my-blood-sugar-another-day-because-this-tastes-amazing day in the old Biskupic Chateau.
As I’ve mentioned, I’m going to miss this kid when she moves on.
In the meantime, we’re all benefitting from her determined quest to prove she can teach herself any technique she might have learned in the boulangerie course she had planned to take until COVID-19 barred her from Paris.
So, I guess Paris’ loss is our (weight) gain. C’est la vie.
One thought on “Au tres bon pain”