I didn’t set out to find French toast in Paris. To be honest I thought it was one of those things like French fries, they somehow got the moniker but it actually had nothing to do with the country. But when I saw French toast on the Ladurée breakfast menu, I had to order it just for irony’s sake.
I went to Ladurée for a couple of reasons. First was because it was super close to the Louvre and secondly because I wanted to stock up on snacks for the day (macrons are an important part of a balanced diet). When I saw the dining room itself (a crazy oriental painted affair with peacocks on the walls and the feeling of opulence hanging in the air) I knew I had made a good life choice.
My French toast arrived and I was a little disappointed, I couldn’t see any sign of syrup and there weren’t any of the normal extras that kiwis throw on the plate (bacon, berries, banana et al). But then I took a bite. Wow.
It was like eating pure caramel in bread format. I don’t even understand how they managed to get it to taste like that. I wolfed down the entire thing with a liberal helping of cream on top and then sat back in a daze. It was just so damn good.
To revive myself from this French toast heaven I downed two espressos and then made my way merrily to the Louvre. Thank god I am the sort of person to order food based on irony alone.