Two years ago, when I visited Paris for the first time ever in summer, I was Velib’ing down rue de l'Université, when I slammed on the brakes and practically flew over my handlebars. The cause for this moment of graceless drama? The cakes and tarts beckoning from the window of Les Deux Abeilles.

This darling family-run tea salon is everything you envision a darling family-run tea salon to be: decorated with floral wallpaper and antique furniture and filled with warmth and light; run by a lovely, friendly staff that makes you feel at home; and, most important, a menu filled with homemade tarts and crumbles and cakes and scones, served alongside pots of tea or glasses of ginger lemonade.


I know all of this now since I finally made it back there for an afternoon indulgence.
Two years was worth the wait.
Out of all the irresistible-looking desserts, I came really,
really close to selecting the pear-praliné clafoutis, which waved to me like a moist and dense, satisfying glimpse of heaven. I was also tempted by the tall, airy domes on the lemon meringue tart and the towering crust that surrounded the cheesecake.



But after a very laborious decision, I opted for the rhubarb-apple crumble.

It was served with a side of fresh whipped cream, and I ate it with French
Vogue opened to the gorgeous Kate Moss spread. This was intended to inspire me not to finish the whole serving.


But it didn’t work. I crumbled (hardy har) and cleaned my plate.
189, rue de l'Université, 7eme