I took this photo almost 3 years ago when I was in Zürich, Switzerland. I had been in Europe for 10 days, trying to do artwork while struggling with heartache. The weather for my entire trip was perfect for walking and exploring. I discovered the gorgeous colors of the tiles decorating entryways in Porto, Portugal. A gentleman who sold newspapers in Santiago de Compostela explained the "Camino de Santiago" to me in broken English with (appropriately) the patience of a saint. Dear friends who lived in Vigo, Spain let me stay in their flat while they visited Dublin and I sketched the view from their bedroom window, partly because I was panicking about being alone in Europe and partly because I was forcing myself to be creative when it felt so horribly wrong (ahhh, the plight of the artist). I ate a lot of croissants and drank a lot of coffee because these items are easy to order in many languages. It was the best trip I have taken to date. There was so much discomfort but I discovered there is much to learn when you break your patterns and challenge your habits. Feeling out of sorts is what comes right before discovery and wonder. As I write this, I'm feeling much the same way and am excited for the future.
Ordering this coffee and croissant in Zürich was uncomfortable and rearranging the table to get this shot with the flowers and the tiled floor was a lesson in awkwardness but I try to remember that even if someone noticed me, I'm only on their radar for a split second before they put me out of their mind...so why should I carry the anxiety for a moment longer? The photo was far better than the pastry (I will always sing the praises of France and the perfection of Paul Bakery's croissants), but the pleasure I got from this cafe's aesthetic was the best of my trip.

A childhood friend of mine sent a message during the pandemic and said he wished I would write a book: A Guide to New England's Best Pastries. I'm not sure I'll ever have the bandwidth for a book- but why not create a blog that combines my affinity for baked goods, great coffee, photography, writing and maybe a little self help? I loved Josh's idea (Thank you, Mr. Kane!) because there really are few things I enjoy as much as my morning dark roast and a good croissant. I also love sharing this joy with others. It's not simply consuming the croissant & coffee- it's the whole cafe experience that brings me such delight. Our world is increasingly rushed and we prioritize speed, efficiency, profits...even self-sacrifice these days but what kind of devotion do we give to the wonderful parts of our day that make it all worth living? Why do we take pride in working to exhaustion or praise people who are so dedicated to their job that they disregard basic needs? I can't buy into it. I am certain joy is necessary for a healthy life. Prior to the pandemic, Paul Bakery was a 15 minute drive from my apartment. I would go every morning and this lovely coffee and croissant cost me $5. I made a point to know the names of the servers and eventually became good friends with many staff members. Breakfast at Paul was so much more than grabbing a quick bite- it was therapeutic and an act of self-love. That may seem like an exaggeration, but my morning ritual gave me a sense of security, comfort, predictability and consistency. The whole process delighted the senses. The aroma of fresh breads and pastries straight from the oven was divine. I drank my coffee to Melody Gardot or Madeleine Peyroux quietly playing in the background and I would embrace the warm mug with my hands on cold days. On mornings I had any self control, I ate one delicious croissant. Other days I forgave myself for having a mini-croissant on the side. Friends criticized my dedication to the large corporate chain (Paul Bakery is France's version of Dunkin Donuts- they are on every street corner) but I cannot snub my nose at a steaming coffee mug served with a lovely demitasse spoon and an individual porcelain creamer. Zach the manager would often time a fresh batch of croissants for my arrival.
When the pandemic came, I pulled up to the dark bakery, doors locked. As I was pulling away, I saw Zach pop his head from the back of the shop and he signaled for me to wait. He came to the door with a large box containing 2 dozen croissants- no charge. He had come in specifically to bake every croissant in the store to "hold me over" until they reopened. They never did. It's been almost 3 years and the comforts I received from that bakery and their beautiful staff members are unparalleled. I'm grateful every day I got the experience and I miss it with all my heart.
I have no idea how often I will post, but this blog feels like a step in a productive direction. Til next time, may your pastries be baked to perfection and your coffee never served lukewarm.