Once upon a time in Minneapolis, I was hanging out with my future husband, telling him about the various details of the French1 flaky starch and butter product known as the croissant, and what makes it good. I was, admittedly, trying to annoy him by being jokingly serious about the importance of this food, and the travesty that are croissants in the USA.
He would roll his eyes every time I talked about the massive disappointment of American croissants, which just made me keep going. I used every opportunity I could to point out viennoiseries that did not match my supposed standards.
One day, the heavens opened up before me, and the dulcet tones of angels” song whispered the name “Marc Heu” into my ears. Or I looked it up on the Web. Either way, I had a name of a Minneapolis bakery which had an owner trained in France, and I took my future husband with me.
The hour-long wait in the hot summer sun yielded our spoils: two croissants, one plain, one filled with strawberry puree and banded with red. He bit into one, his eyes widened, and he knew the truth.
A good croissant is goddamn tasty.
At some point my joke morphed into an earnest attempt to rate the bakeries around me that offered croissants and related goods, as I dragged my husband along whenever possible. The experience thus far has been delicious, and has led me to more wonderful discoveries in the world of bread.
Join me as I go wherever I can, rating croissants on my completely subjective scale, exploring what the world has to offer.
1 You are no doubt aware that their origin is reputedly Vienna.