Lemon and blueberry madeleines, cherry clafoutis, chocolate fondant cake, ricotta and honey doughnuts, and more
I don't know for sure when it all started. Perhaps on that early morning of an endless Paris summer when I pushed the door to the empty patisserie and walked down the stairs of what would become a home of some kind. A home where aprons are tightly knotted and tea towels never far from your fingers. A home where "chaud!" (hot!) is the only spoken word and pastries get made all day. All night too.
After that first step, I knew I'd never look back. This was where I belonged. One patisserie after the other. One restaurant at a time, it would grow on me; it would make me grow up. As a girl, as a chef.
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