french baguettes

French Baguettes Made at Home

On my last trip to Paris, I reserved dinner at a cozy piano bar/restaurant in the 6th for the night of my arrival. When we sat down, I was still pretty delirious and jet-lagged, so I wasn’t really paying attention to anything other than my friends who were chatting with me. In fact, for a moment there, I completely forgot I was sitting in a cafe in Paris, France. It wasn’t until I absent-mindedly tore a piece off of the baguette on the table and put it in my mouth that I realized I was in my favorite city in the world. I immediately thought oh my goodness! The bread tasted incredible! Seriously, truly incredible. It tasted the way bread in France can only taste. A lot of people ask me how to make homemade baguettes like that, but non, ce n’est pas possible.

french beignets

French Beignets (boules de Berlin)

It may seem like the title of this post is a bit redundant considering beignets are French by origin, but I felt the need to clarify because of the variety of beignets that now exist throughout the world. Particularly, I felt the need to distinguish these beignets from the ones you’d find in New Orleans or many American bakeries. When I first when to Paris, I spotted beignets on a street vendor cart, not knowing they were beignets. They were round rather than square, like the beignets we often eat here in the States. When I actually bit into one, I found them much more cake-like than the beignets I was accustomed to. The beignets I’ve eaten in the States have often been somewhat hollow-like, much lighter and crisper than the French beignets I ate abroad. Since enjoying the soft, pillowy rounds that I enjoyed in Paris, I haven’t been able to eat any other kind of beignet; French beignets are simply divine. 

cranberry stuffed brioche wreath

Cranberry Stuffed Brioche Wreath

I’m back from Paris, and while I always wish I could linger just a little bit longer along the Boulevard Saint-Germain, I am so happy to be home. I missed my family, friends, and the little love of my life (my doggy!) so very much. I joke that now I know what it feels like to be that overbearing mother who is obsessed with her child because I always feel overwhelming separation anxiety when I am apart from my dog. I just miss his cute little face far too much! The abundance of good food and holiday cheer in Paris, however, really helped keep me distracted. It just never ceases to amaze me how much the French eat during the day and how absolutely delicious it all is. My first stop in Paris is always the bakery, and it usually includes a baguette, some kind of croissant – butter or chocolate – and fluffy, melt-in-your-mouth brioche. Kind of like this cranberry stuffed brioche wreath. Because this brioche? It will totally melt in your mouth and having you reaching for more. 

pain de mais

Pain de Mais (Cornbread)

Cornbread. Could there be anything more American? This national classic made me ponder whether the French eat anything close to cornbread, as I found cornmeal nonexistent in Paris’s markets. I’ve heard it exists in some of the smaller, international grocery stores there, but it’s definitely not a staple item in their markets’ baking aisles. The French just don’t seem to have the fascination with corn that Americans do. 

pumpkin crepes

Pumpkin Crepes

Since I shared a recipe for pancakes this week, I thought it only fair to share a recipe for crepes as well, specifically pumpkin crepes. Like pancakes, crepes are made with a mixture of butter, sugar, eggs, and flour, and then cooked in a pan. Unlike pancakes, however, crepes tend to be extremely thin, which is immediately apparent just from looking at the runny batter. 

pumpkin brioche

Pumpkin Brioche with Chocolate Swirl

From time to time, I decide to make brioche. It’s not a weekly habit because, let’s be honest, a girl can’t afford to have bread as rich with butter as brioche is every single morning. But, occasionally, I find myself staring at my morning toast and wishing it was a big fluffy slice of brioche with jam smeared on top. Then I start wishing I was in Paris eating brioche, and then I start wishing I was in Paris eating all of my favorite foods, and then I just curl up and cry. Okay, so I may have exaggerated with the crying bit (well, maybe), but you get the picture.