November Tour: Rue Montorgueil’s Embarrassment of Rich-Riches

I don’t mean to boast, but I chose my neighborhood well. At the one end of rue Montorgueil, you have Deliziefollie. At the other, Eric Kayser. And in between, it’s a sheer embarrassment of riches.

Let’s start with Deliziefollie (7 rue Montorgueil), the Italian gelateria. They have dozens of decadent flavors to ogle, from the savory (hazelnut) to the spicy (cinnamon); from fruity (mango) to boozy (rum raisin) to just plain sweet (strawberries and cream). And if a frozen dessert on an autumn day doesn’t cut it, you can get a piping hot Nutella crepe from their stand out front.

Just a couple doors up, Charles Chocolatier (15 rue Montorgueil) is a heavenly oasis of artisinal treats. The long-standing chocolate shop (since 1910) offers lovely dark chocolate bonbons and tablettes, plus killer hot cocoa.

Does Stohrer (51 rue Montorgueil) have the best chocolate éclair in the city? Despite the obscene number of times I’ve been in this gorgeous little patisserie—a historic gem, founded in 1730 by King Louis XV’s pastry chef, Nicolas Stohrer—I still haven’t tried one. Although Stohrer has received city’s best honors from Le Figaro, I can’t seem to get beyond the puits d’amour, tartelette aux figues or Neptune cake, which is like a giant Rocher chocolate.

I know Paul (63 rue Montorgueil) is a chain, and I can be a world-class snob when it comes to chains. But besides their heavenly baguettes, Paul makes a perfect pit-stop for pain au chocolat, tartes aux citrons and those pepito loafs that are chock full of chocolate chips and sweet pastry cream.

My love for dried pineapple is no secret. Nor should it be a surprise that A la Mere de Famille (82 rue Montorgueil) is my supplier. Beyond their luscious bins of dried fruit is a cute little store filled with caramels, marzipan, lollis, marshmallows and chocolates.

My incredibly rich mocha birthday cake this year came from Maison Collett (100 rue Montorgueil) so I have a soft spot for this patisserie.

Despite having all these delicious options, I will often walk by them to get to Eric Kayser. Another master breadmaker, Kayser also knows his sweets. With goodies like the chocolaty Opera cake, beautiful raspberry pistachio cake, and strawberry bressane—a round, flat pastry topped with cream, sugar and berries, from the Bresse area of the Rhône-Alpes—wouldn’t you?

A la Mere de Famille, encore!

An outpost of the historic chocolatier A la Mere de Famille conveniently opened around the corner from me. It inevitably lacks the charm of the original store, but it’s still a cute little shop. It’s still filled with beautiful treats. And it’s still close to me.

Strangely though, I haven’t been craving chocolate a whole lot lately. My urge for something rich has been—only temporarily, I assure you—replaced by desire for something sweet and chewy. Namely, dried apple slices. Which have replaced my epic cravings for dried pineapple.

I started poking around La Mere de Famille, remembering nice big bins of dried fruit in the ninth arrondisement location and, sure enough, back in the corner, beyond the pralines, caramels and bonbons, I found my happy little jackpot.


Voila, beautiful dried pineapple. And dried apple slices, too.

Centimes candy

This isn’t your traditional Parisian candy store. It’s Karamell, a Swedish candy store, located on one of my favorite streets, rue de Martyrs.

Did you ever imagine there could be so many kinds of gummies? But they also have a decent chocolate selection (yay, malt balls) as well as my favorite, dried pineapple.


If the sugar’s not enough to make you happy, the bright colors should do the trick.

15, rue des Martyrs
9eme

Ananas secs

Look! I found a place to get my dried pineapple.



The thing is, I’m going to be tempted by chocolate bars and bonbons, caramels, fruit cakes and other French treats that I don’t even know about yet.

Like these little petal-shaped things. I don’t know what they are but I have a feeling they’re really good.



These are all different flavored caramels. Can you imagine?



This is A la Mere de la Famille, a wonderful lost-in-time candy and chocolate shop that's been open in the 9th arrondisement since 1761. I was struck by the Easter basket window displays as I was walking by and stopped to admire. Wouldn’t you know, I found myself going in.





I think the key is to go with a list or a craving—otherwise there’s just too much to sample, and too much damage that can be done. My strategy will be to return every time I’m craving dried pineapple and try one new treat.

35 Rue du Faubourg-Montmartre
9eme

The red, original Kookaburra

I went to Russ & Daughters for my dried pineapple movie snack (saw Two Lovers… not bad). I love this place as much as the next New Yorker and always want to lick the window when I walk by and see the dried fruit piled high. But I have to say, the dried pineapple—as fresh and chewy as it is—is just a titch too sugary for me.

But while I was there, I saw they have Kookaburra by the ounce. These are great, big, thick heavenly nibs of strawberry licorice from Australia. You can buy packs of the stuff at certain Duane Reades but they're not always easy to find. Besides, ordering just a few pieces at a time is one way to not demolish an entire bag.

Pineapple happiness, part II

I did it. I found the best dried pineapple in the city.

This was no small feat. It involved visits to many markets and specialty shops. It's been two years of sampling in earnest. I have spiraled into sugary orbits and toughened my jaws on stale specimens. I have consumed hundreds of calories while fooling myself that there is nutritional value in this pursuit — it's fruit after all.

Alas, I know there's no Vitamin C in dried pineapple and that it's not exactly a lo-cal snack. But who cares? When you find the perfect ring of dried pineapple, all is well in the world.

The reveal may seem like a no-brainer to some (nope, not Russ & Daughters). But it was a delicious revelation for me: Manhattan Fruit Exchange. Over there, in the Chelsea Market where I've walked many times before. But this past weekend I was finally lured in by the stacks of colorful candies, nuts and dried fruits in those enticing little plastic tubs.

This dried pineapple is pitch-perfect in color (bright, happy yellow — not dull with too much sugar). The rings are small rather than oversized. The meat: chewy and gummy. And the flavor is sweet and delicious. It tastes fresh and ripe and will be my one-and-only source from now on. Unless I find it better somewhere else.

Pineapple happiness

For some, it's Cocoa Puffs. Others, Charlston Chews. For me, the sweets obsession that I haven't been able to kick since childhood is dried pineapple.

Starting at the ripe age of eight, I was hooked on their gummy sweetness. A store at the New London Mall had a big bin of dried pineapple - the uber-sugarcoated variety for sure. I would get a little white paper bag and use the tongs to pluck five or six rings from the happy yellow abyss. Back home I would sit on the couch in the den, with my tasty bag of treats, and surf between MTV and Channel 56. It didn't get any more blissful. (Unless my mom had made brownies or bought Ring Dings.)

Jump-cut two and a half decades: my obsession with dried pineapple has been renewed with a vengeance. I know where to go in every neighborhood to score the best stuff. At least the adult-me knows better than to get the ones cloaked in refined sugar — ew, those are quite awful. But slightly sweetened, gooey in the center, hard at the edges, a nice dark sunny yellow - nothing too bleached out - that's the perfect specimen.