(Another) Weekend in Paris

A lot of people ask me how life is going in Paris.

I’m not sure how to answer that because I dont live there yet. I’m still in lil  ol’ St. Bonnet le Froid. Only less than two weeks, before I  move to Paris.

I understand the confusion, because well, I’ve been to Paris 4 times within the past couple of  months. I only go on my weekends, and for 1 1/2 days at a time.

It’s not ideal, and its really exhausting, to be honest..getting to the train station from St. Bonnet is a trip in itself, and of course, the 2 hour train ride from there.

I make the most of my weekend trips to Paris though, eating everything I possibly can, as if it were the last pastries I’ll ever eat…cause I’m gluttonous like that.

This past weekend, I went mainly because I needed to start moving my stuff before I actually move my stuff.

Moving sucks. Imagine having to transport your stuff across the country via train. Not fun. I came to France with a backpack, and somehow, I’m moving to Paris now with the same backpack, but also four more duffle bags worth of stuff.

I had three simple objectives for this trip: start unloading some of my stuff at my friend’s place, talk to my future boss, Jacques Genin, and go to Pierre Herme’s again for his Infiniment Vanille collection.

Pierre Herme’s Infiniment Vanille Collection

A while back, my friend Lisa raved about a tart she had at Pierre Herme’s. I asked her what it was, and after telling me it was a vanilla tart, I was a little less than enthusiastic.

However, this was Pierre Herme we’re talking about, and I had to see what all the fuss was about because she just couldn’t stop talking about this tart.

When we got to one of his boutiques, I saw his featured collection.

Infiniment Vanille, he called it. Intensely Vanilla. How does that not sound good? As part of that collection, there was the tart Lisa had raved about, a baba au rhum, eclairs, and an entremet. I wanted to try the tart, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the entremet. I love cake.

It was spectacular: Layers of vanilla macaron, vanilla creme mousseline, vanilla mascarpone cream, and a vanilla glaze.

You’ll never be able to eat anything else vanilla ever again. Nothing will compare.

It was simply luxurious, silky, vanilla like you’ve never had it before.

And it was vanilla! Vanilla is a flavour that I find is often overlooked and terribly underrated. Vanilla is beautiful, but shy and quiet, unlike its boastful, more attention seeking counterpart, chocolate.

But with everything, nothing beats quality. If you’re going to feature one flavour in your pastry, you need to pull out all the stops. For his Infiniment Vanille collection, Pierre Herme doesn’t just use vanilla, he uses three kinds of vanilla- Tahitian, Mexican and Madagascar.

I love this entremet so much, I had it again another two times after when I came to Paris.

This past weekend however, there was no Infiniment Vanille collection.

My other friend, Bruce, had casually told me “Oh yeah, he doesnt have that anymore, it was only for October.”

If he knew he was stabbing daggers in my heart, maybe he wouldn’t have said it so nonchalantly. Maybe not.

I didn’t want to believe him, but then i saw the display in the storefront- Pierre had moved onto chocolate and citrus.

Not all was lost though. There were still lingering remenants of the glorious vanilla collection- the tart and the baba au rhum. Just no cake.

So I finally tried the Famous Tart Lisa Raved About, as I called it.

She was definitely onto something, it was spectacular. Buttery shortbread crust, white chocolate ganache layer, disc of soft biscuit soaked in vanilla syrup, vanilla creme mousseline, and a final disk of vanilla mascarpone cream enrobed in white chocolate vanilla ganache. Vanilla, I love you.

We also tried the baba au rhum, mostly because I’ve yet to try a baba that will change my mind about babas (I’m not a huge fan), and because it’s Pierre Herme’s, after all.

Check out the packaging for this..the baba came in an actual glass, and they had it inserted in the cardboard so it wouldn’t move around in the box.

The top layer was that sinfully creamy vanilla mascarpone cream, followed by a baba soaked in vanilla rum, and then a vanilla gelee.

It was good, but I wasn’t too impressed with the vanilla gelee at the bottom..it was disappointingly not very vanilla-y. But alas, that baba had renewed my faith in baba au rhums..perhaps one day I’ll find the one.

We also went to go visit my future boss, seeing as I’ll be starting work there in about two weeks.

After that, Bruce and I re-visited A Dimanche a Paris, a chocolate concept boutique/restaurant/lounge.

It’s a beautiful space, tucked away in the most adorable alleyway, like a secret. The street is entirely cobblestone, but characteristically imperfect, bulging strangely in random spots.

We had a lemon tart, mainly because i was so smitten with the way they did the meringue, and a pistachio cherry choux that was unfortunately very underwhelming.

Not the best lemon tart I’ve had, but it had a nice layer of surprise- lemon jam between the lemon curd and tart.

The adventure back to St. Bonnet after another 1 1/2 day of complete bliss in Paris was a bit brutal.

We had left for the train station an hour before my train was to leave. As we waited for the metro, each passing train was completely full..like, 504 King St. streetcar at rush hour in Toronto, full. We later discovered that there was an accident on one of the metro lines..of course.

After about three trains later with no chance of getting on, we went above ground to try and look for a taxi.

We finally found one, and while we were riding in it, decided that we probably would have a better chance of getting to the train station on time if we ran. Except i had with me my giant backpack to bring home so I can move the remainder of my stuff to Paris. And i hate running.

We did end up running though, because there was an accident, and the cabbie couldn’t pull up close enough to the train station.

I missed my train by 2 minutes.

I couldn’t help but laugh though, because despite how irritated I was, and not to mention, out 20 euros for the taxi and another 30 euros for a new ticket…I realized that this would be the last time I’d have to take a train back to St. Bonnet.