Poilâne

You might remember me writing about trying a recipe by the great French baker Pierre Poilâne (you can read that post here).

The original Poilâne bakery still exists in Paris, so of course we had to visit it.

It's a small shop with racks of bread at the sides and in the window, and a woman at the cash register at the back. Two other women served the customers. When I say it was small, 6 customers standing around meant there was no room to move. Larry went outside while I browsed.

Poilâne was famous for not making baguettes. Instead he made giant round loaves called miches.

There was no way Larry and I could eat a miche between us. It would have lasted us days. We would have had to eat it instead of croissants. We would have had to take it on the airplane (what would we tell customs? Would it fit in my carry-on?).

So I looked for something smaller. There were no signs saying what each loaf was, and at this point in the trip my brain was worn out from conversing in French (as a Montrealer, I'm embarrassed to say that, but I have lived in LA for 15 years). So I pointed, smiled, paid and escaped into the street, clutching my small loaf.

It was an egg bread, I think, a little too light, puffy and white for full satisfaction, but still good.

We took it, along with our leftover cheese from lunch a couple of days before, to Luxembourg Gardens for a picnic dinner. We sat on a bench with our bread and cheese. A community orchestra of children and grown-ups played Irish jigs and ragtime in the nearby bandstand. It was a great Paris experience.