The incredible, all-too-edible, cakes of Lille, France (part I)

Pierre, Gerard and Arnaud, eat your hearts out.

I trained up to Lille, in north-northeast France and discovered Paris isn’t the only place where patisserie is prized. I was dazzled by cakes at every turn.

I sought out Meert, a celebrated and historic tea salon. Sure, the millefeuilles, rochers, operas, baba rhums, tarts, muffins and cakes looked good.





But then I kept exploring. Besides Patrick Hermand, Aux Merveilleux and Luc Olivier, I discovered Patisserie Charle.

Incredible creations of pineapple and coconut, pears and salted caramel...

...apricot and pistachio, vanilla and raspberry...

white, milk and dark chocolate...


Too much beauty and temptation for one day.

Moulin de la Vierge

Voila. Just one of Paris’ classic patisseries. (Roughly translated to “The Virgin Mill.”)

Behold, the Art Nouveau façade.

Inside, things only get prettier.

And, presumably, more delicious.

I could only try one treat (which broke my week-long sweets embargo, I might add).

There were so many amazing choices.

Tarts, éclairs, macarons, millefeuilles,…




I thought a breakfast pastry, it being 11 am, was the most appropriate.

So I went with the pain aux raisins.

Not the cupcakes.

Not the pizzas or savory tarts.

It was a good choice.

Brown and white and absolutely sublime

You really haven’t had hot chocolate until you’ve had hot chocolate in Paris. Not to be a snob, but it’s sort of true.

I was reminded of this on my most recent visit to Jacques Genin.


This chocolatier/salon de thé is as exquisite as they come. It’s just a year old; a grand and beautiful space in the Haute Marais, with pristine tarts, millefeuilles and éclairs.


Like the space and pastries, the service is, as the French say, nickel (“neeeee-quelllllle”).

The chocolat chaud is served in Villeroy & Boch porcelain….

And the thick creaminess of the melted chocolate is just beautiful against the stark white china…

Until…

Until, carnage!


We obliterated our individual pitchers of chocolat, leaving irrefutable proof of a lovely afternoon spent.

Why not, biscotti?

Biscotti is hardly the stuff that my dreams are made of. It’s not gooey or chocolaty or rich and creamy. It doesn’t ooze pastry or almond cream or stick to the roof of my mouth in heavenly defiance. So when Niels suggested we go to Bis.Co.Latte for a snack, my expectations were as low as a short-stack from Clinton Street Baking Co.

Little did I know how cute this joint is. Never did I dream biscotti could be so fun and exciting.


A tasting bar displayed the world of flavors this sweet café cooks up.

Cherry apricot, caramel walnut oat bran, fig and date, Kahlua espresso bean, lemon poppy seed, chocolate ginger, fennel almond, white chocolate lavender, Reese’s pieces… the list goes on. And on! 50 handmade varieties of biscotti, as a matter of fact. There's even a Goober biscotti.

Accompanied by a café au lait or chai latté, this little Hell’s Kitchen café just might be what some dreams are made of.

667 10th Avenue at 47th
212.581.3900

Long live the kings!

January sixth is the Day of Epiphany in France—a religious holiday that celebrates Christ being visited by the Three Kings on the Twelfth Night. Fair enough. But what makes the holiday worth nothing is that the French celebrate all month long with wonderful galettes des rois.




The cakes beckon from everywhere; from neighborhood boulangeries to renowned patisseries, hard to miss because of the paper crowns that top them.

They’re not the prettiest cakes the French make. But they’re exquisite for anyone who loves creamy almond paste as much as I do.



The construct is relatively simple—essentially frangipane (almond paste) inside flaky puff pastry. A little egg and sugar, maybe some crème fraiche or Grand Marnier. It depends on the recipe and baker. But I’m quite certain all versions are delicious.


There are also some strange traditions associated with this celebration: a small plastic charm, une fève, is hidden inside for some lucky recipient to get and become king for the day.

Once the galette is cut, a child hides under the table to give the name of the person that will be served next.

The galettes are often washed down with cider or dry white wine.

Another reason to love the French.

Mini red velvet bundt cakes

There I was in Harlem. Within three blocks of Make My Cake, which I had wanted to visit ever since Mitchell introduced me to their moist and amazing cupcakes. For over two years the memory of the dense, spongy cake and sweet (but too much so) frosting had haunted me. And there I finally was—an egg toss away.

The thing is, it was 9 in the morning. Would it be hideous to start my day with a 400-calorie sugar bomb? Maybe. I went in anyway.

I was charmed by the pink and exposed brick walls and tempted by the display cases. Trays of cupcakes: chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, yellow cake with chocolate frosting and, the prizewinning red velvet cupcakes, with or without crushed walnuts on top.




Giant three-layer cakes beckoned, too: yellow with strawberry frosting, German chocolate, double chocolate, carrot cake. Plus, cookies and pies and puddings.

But then a little number caught my eye and I knew I’d found breakfast: the red velvet mini bundt cake.

It was the same delicious red velvet cake the bakery’s known for. Springy, even in this novel form, and a titch chocolaty. Instead of a thick cloud of frosting, it was delicately drizzled into ribbons of sweetness.

Was it the healthiest way to start my day? Of course not. Were the hundreds of calories worth it? Hideous. But, yes.