I wish all Parisian pastries were stunning works of art that operated at the absolute limits of complete tastiness. Sadly, most are just vaguely amusing to regard and pleasant enough to enjoy eating. There are only a dozen shops that truly make a go at developing astoundingly delicious pieces, and among that delicious dozen, there are maybe five shops that forge talent together with effort in order to make visual masterpieces.

Ladurée is one of those few pâtisseries that succeeds in crafting truly eye-catching work – e.g., La Fraise or Divin. Even if you’re super ****** and think those designs are pandering and overdone, you’ve still got to tip your chapeau when you realize others like the famed hyped Blé Sucré turns out this garbage. Do I still often accuse Ladurée of doing sloppy work? Yeah, because I mean … look at the piping running up the head of the above. And does Ladurée truly excel in developing taste sensations? No, not often, but it’s usually at least “very good” and rarely anywhere close to disappointing. And what about the subject of today’s review – the Religieuse Pistache? Well…

If I had to grade it, I’d give it a B-. It’s certainly much better than a neighborhood pastry shop could do, but it’s not close to what it could be. I mean I literally had a conversation with Sylvain from Hugo & Victor the other day where he told me how much time they’d been spending recently just thinking about pistachios and experimenting with different varieties. So taken were they with a specific crop of this year’s Bronte pistachios that they’ve decided to weave them into all of the pistachio preparations. I can guarantee Ladurée’s team was not grappling with their pistachio choice in the same manner. And judging by the slight overload of sugar in the crème and the vaguely mealy texture of it, they weren’t too worried about other specifics of their overall effort. Not to say that the crème sucked; it was good – just . . . good and nothing more.

As for the rest of the religieuse, the chou was decent – standard – maybe a bit dry. The pistachio shellacking about the tête and corps of this little one was, much like the interior, a tad oversweetened. And then of course there were the 5°-angled squirts aside the head. [Paging your neighborhood supermarket and/or 4th rate pastry shop] I think a certain stagiaire is ready to return to icing cupcakes back in Parsippany, NJ.

I’m being a little hyperbolic in the above. But of the two of these I’ve purchased in the last week (cause I always retaste/retest before I write), the second had maybe 5 grams of crème in it. It wasn’t even really filled. I think the “chef” felt a little resistance in their poche and decided to not give a **** whether the ridiculously expensive pastry was actually . . . What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yeah . . . salable.

Mmmm…green.

The first one I purchased here was filled…

So, eh, this might not be the best purchase at Ladurée. Their Harmonie, Divin, Tarte Tatin, Religieuse Rose, La Fraise, and others are great ones to snag. And while their macarons are suffering a bit these days, there are still classics like the Fleur d’Oranger, Réglisse and Cassis to purchase too many of and enjoy. That said, a visit to Café Pouchkine, Hugo & Victor or Jacques Genin would likely be a more rewarding adventure.

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A few months back, I reached out to Café Pouchkine to see if I could arrange a photo shoot of their boutique and, more awesomely, a special session with their chef pâtissier – his majesty Emmanuel Ryon. The Pouchkine team has long been keen on sharing my reviews of their work – both on their Facebook page and “the twitters” – so I was hopeful the fine folks there would be totally agreeable to setting up said sessions. They were quick to get back to me and say a boutique shoot would be a snap to arrange but . . . a session with Monsieur Ryon likely wouldn’t be possible. No, it wasn’t because I’d offended the master; it was simply that he was so busy managing the development of their newest pastries – and making sure all was in order in Moscow, Paris and with their latest New York efforts – that he wasn’t sure he would have enough time until later in the year. All that changed the week before last, when their awesome team got back to me and said Monsieur Ryon had an unexpected opening and would have enough time not only to prepare a few pastries for me but to sit down and talk. I wound up getting part of the afternoon with The Great One this past Thursday, which is why I was so rushed in putting together the Friday entry. I’m sure you’re wondering . . . was he as cool as I imagined? No. He was at least 11 times cooler, and you’re going to love the photos . . . when I finally decide to share them with you

For now, you’re going to have to content yourself with enjoying one of the tasty pastries from Café Pouchkine’s case. While Monsieur Ryon said he pretty much loves all his pastries equally, pressing him to name a few personal favorites got him to confess a soft spot for his Chouqette Botchka. And if he loves it, then maybe you will, too. So shall we dig in?

Unlike your average vanilla crème-engorged chou puff, this little one has a shiny sugar coat with a studly studding of sugar nibs – all dusted in yet more sugar! Yet this hat trick of sweetness is actually much more subtly sucrée than you’d imagine. And it serves as a perfect complement to one of the finer pâte a chou preparations I’ve come across in quite some time. I’m not sure if I got lucky and had one that got a little extra special cook time, or if it’s the standard preparation, but there was this awesomely warm and complex character than shone through. Yum. Then at the heart of our friend here was a decidedly light vanilla crème. I was expecting something much more dense, but was pleasantly surprised at how delicate it was. And while the density of the crème was restrained, the full force of the vanilla Gods was in effect. It took me but one bite to go, “Madagascar!” I quickly whipped out the Café Pouchkine menu I always keep on-hand to confirm my suspicions, and immediately saw that indeed it was a work of pure Bourbon (Madagascar) vanilla – an unmistakable taste sensation.

Looking at the shot below, you can just about taste it, can’t you?! Don’t lick the screen.

So, yes, particularly if you’re a Madagascan vanilla lover, this makes an excellent purchase. I’ll personally be buying it again, if only to taste the chou. I might also pick up some other goodies like their Pavlova Cassis, macaron coeur lait d’amande, and vanilla croissant – the three treats that happen to be my current favorites. Then I’ll find myself halfway back to my apartment wondering why I didn’t buy another dozen of their fine pastries. Why must Café Pouchkine have so many amazing pieces? The temptation of it all!

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Sometimes my pastry eating and photographing schedule get so intense that I literally don’t have enough time to edit photos and write something thoughtful about the goodies at-hand. This week has been particularly bananas. From being “forced” to do such things as leisurely sip a half dozen sublime coffees at Coutume Café for hours on end, to photographing Café Pouchkine’s genius Emmauel Ryon at work in his laboratoire, there’s just been too much real-life awesomeness to fully focus on the blog content here. Thank God I always keep a set of pre-processed, pre-loaded photos on hand for just such time-pinched occasions.

Pierre Hermé’s macarons were of course a logical “emergency” pastry to whip out. People’s natural affinity for his work will let me slide by here without toiling away at a lengthy written entry. So sorry to all of you who enjoy reading through my hyperbole, invented words, and more, but … hey, at least your getting some Pierre Hermé macarons today, right? With that, let’s dig into my light musings on the Asperge Verte & Huile de Noisette Macaron.

I know a lot of you are probably thinking, “Asperge verte . . . is that . . . no, that can’t be what I think it is, can it?” Yep, it’s green asparagus. This is an asparagus macaron, my friends. Though, if you’ve read my PH macaron entries before, you know that the first ingredient the master lists is often the secondary flavor. It’s really the hazelnut oil that is the dominant tone in these puppies. The asparagus notes are actually quite light within the hyper-ample crème. It’s only when you get to the small chunk or two of slippery asparagus nestled in the center of these that the gardeny goodness of it all pops out and says hi.

Surprisingly, I actually kind of like it overall. Even if one of the flavors is pretty whacky, the textures of the piece are nice. Can’t say I’ve ever seen any customer buy it, but then again neither have I. As you know, I rarely actually pay for my macs chez Monsieur Hermé; they’ve got the science of spoiling me and skewing my opinions down to a science, and I love them for it.

All I can say is that if you love seriously stuffed macs, these were made for you.

So, yeah, should these asparagus macs ever come back to Pierre Hermé, give one a try. But since I’d been saving these shots for a day when I didn’t have enough time to process more current treats, I think about a year has gone by since they were last in the case. Monsieur Hermé’s newest pieces are also garden-fresh, but the focus is on the florals for the moment. Not a bad turn of events, so perhaps my best advice to you is to snag his Jardin Secret – quite possibly my favorite of the macs I’ve ever not paid for chez Monsieur Hermé.

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One of my pastry pet peeves is the maladroit use of savory ingredients in sweet goodies. For every incredibly delicious black sesame éclair from Sadaharu Aoki or too tasty coriander-laced macaron from Jean-Paul Hévin, there are ten tastebud-soiling crimes against humanity. Some are so bafflingly disgusting that the only appropriate word to use is the ever-coloful écoeurant. Not familiar with the term? Oh, well, then let me broaden your horizons. It literally means something is so profoundly terrible that it makes your heart want to vomit. Of course I’d never dream of applying that adjective to Hugo & Victor. The realm of the savory is one in which they excel, time and again.

When I made my 2012 return visit to H&V, a couple weeks back, I was happy to see many of my favorite sweet and savory pieces still in the case. From the formal pastries to the macarons and chocolates, I felt like I’d come home again. Really the only point of sadness was that my dear Victor Verveine (verbena réligieuse) wasn’t yet in season and on display. But then I noticed one of the new savories H&V had dreamt up – Citronelle (lemon grass). And, lucky me, it came in the réligieuse format. Could it be a worthy stand-in for my beloved Victor Verveine? Well . . .

The short answer is . . . yes. While I admittedly adore my Victor Verveine a wee more, there’s nothing not to enjoy about the Victor Citronelle. My favorite bit might even be the gooey manteau of ganache that drapes both the head and body of the piece. What at any other shop would be a gaggingly sweet fondant is here a lightly sugared, smooth and intensely creamy prelude to the heart of the beast. But before one dives that deep, an ever-tender and beautifully nuanced chou must be breached. It’s a treat unto itself. But, yes, nestled within it all is what many will find to be the centerpiece of the Victor Citronelle experience – a dreamily milky gush of lemon grass infused pastry cream. Vaguely sweetened. Fantastically smooth. Perfectly flavored. It is a savory sensation.

There are too many other pâtissiers/pâtissières that could learn a thing or two from Monsieur Pouget. When I was fact-checking the ingredients with him yesterday I was of course sure to point out exactly how masterfully awesome I think the Victor Citronelle is. Though he’s usually a bit serious in our conversations, I got him to crack a full smile at my compliment; I think he felt the sincerity.

Do I often enjoy one of these as a mid-morning snack, after ‘marshmallow breakfast’? Yes. It’s a refreshing interlude between hot chocolate time and my later pastry lunch. And, no, I’m not joking about that being my diet.

So, yes, the Victor Citronelle gets my seal of approval. Other gems now in-store at H&V include the Earl Grey Chocolate Tarte, Hugo Passion, Hugo Vanille, Macaron Mangue, and Macaron Combawa. I’m no stranger to buying several of those all at the same time, but you’ll likely be just as happy enjoying them one-by-one, in a succession of visits to Hugo & Victor.

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Do I know more about chocolate than I’ll likely ever know about coffee? Yes. Does that keep me from drinking the equivalent of 10-15 espressos a day? No. After all, I’m only hooked on Coutume Café like crack. It’s there that the ever-talented Kevin and Talor (the newest barista extraordinaire) turn me on to dazzling blends, drips, pulls and methods of enjoying their expertly roasted beans. The latest and greatest is of course Talor’s ice-presso (hot espresso served in a frozen cup). So it should be no surprise that I’m always looking for the next dose in one form or another – if not for the splendors of flavor, then at least to stave off a crash or caffeine withdrawal symptoms. There is no such thing as enough.

Since I can’t be at Coutume 24/7, my coffee lust winds up getting sated by the occasional café-imbued pastry. Most just serve as some clumsy approximation of coffee’s delights, as I’ve come to find 90%+ are woefully lacking in the appropriate nuances and quality to be called anything but . . . crude. But there I was at Un Dimanche à Paris a couple weekends back, when I spotted a new addition to their lineup, the Éclair au Café. Could it satisfy me? Would it perhaps even delight me? Well…

Yes and yes. While the main vehicle for the piece is the éclair-standard pâte à chou, it’s been lovingly coated in Un Dimanche à Paris’ trademark cacao nib croustillant. It adds just the perfect touch of sweetness and crumble. Some sweetness and snap is then furnished by a whisperingly thin wafer of 40% milk chocolate. Do I usually hate tempered chocolate on pastries? Yes, but it works here. For not only is it slight enough to bite through without mess, but since the éclair is “open faced” – with a chunnel of crème resting right below the chocolate – that little wafer shields the crème from the elements. God knows I hate when my crème goes knockin’ about with crusty, mingin’ edges. And it’s that crème that is the highlight, my friends. Based in Mascarpone, it’s a sublime blend of milk chocolate with Mexican and Ecuadorian coffees. Fairly sweet and with just a waft of maple’esque tones, it might well be the finest coffee crème in all of Paris.

Of course chef pâtissier Quentin Bailly didn’t believe me when I told him how much I loved the éclair. Last weekend, when I went it to fact-check the ingredients with him for a few pastries I’d shot, he asked what I thought of the éclair. I quickly responsed that it was, in fact, the finest coffee éclair I have ever had. He laughed, but I assured him it was true.

Mmm, it’s a stretch mark of tastiness…

Is the éclair perhaps a little more squished down than it should be? Yes, we can say that … since I know someone would leave a ****** comment to that effect anyway. But it didn’t affect the deliciosity at all.

So, yes, the Éclair au Café from Un Dimanche à Paris is a must-get. But be forewarned that it is only available on the weekends, much like their oh-too-delicious millefeuille. Should you show up another day, you can always content yourself with a Chou Pistache, some hot chocolate, coquelicot macarons, or a candied clementine. And if you’re extra adventurous, you can just enjoy all of those in one sitting, cause that’s exactly the type of thing I would do.

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Much as I’m looking to hunt down new taste sensations here in Paris, there’s a big part of me that loves to re-experience past knockouts. I go to Pierre Hermé every single day and buy a Montebello, which I then save for breakfast in the morning. Paired with a few poppy flower marshmallows and an espresso, there’s no finer way to greet the sunrise . . . or induce diabetes. Then there’s the Chou Pistache from Un Dimanche, the Éclair au Chocolat from Jacques Genin, the Macaron Mangue from Hugo & Victor, or the Croissant Vanille from Café Pouchkine. I’ve had them all repeatedly in less than two weeks, when I could really have been branching out more. Oh, well.

Now, my big excitement in getting back to Des Gâteaux et du Pain was to snag their Pomme Tatin. Had someone been tapping into my internal monologue, when I first entered the shop last weekend, it would have come off as a guttural, nearly demonic rumble of “WHERE IS IT?!” As it turned out, it was nowhere. My beloved Pomme Tatin is gone for the season. I almost wanted to walk right back out, but given how much I love many of Madame Damon’s other pieces, I knew I could at least snag another past favorite. Then I spotted the subject of today’s review, the Poire Muscovado. Looking quasi-similar to the Pomme Tatin, I had a good feeling about this new addition to the vitrine. How thoroughly did it amuse me? Well . . .

Completely. The ever-talented Claire Damon has unleashed yet another work of unbridled brilliance upon us. Shielded beneath the lightly sweet and gloriously textured pear gelée that forms the dome of this delicious mound of gooey goodness, rests an equally sweetness-restrained crème. There’s much to love about its oh-so-smooth smoothness and its delicate touch of muscovado sugar. But just as its creamy waves are making their way about your palate, the more texturally complex and molassesy charms of the pear compote insinuate themselves. Ooo. Ahhh. It becomes immediately apparent how woefully underutilized the full range of sugars has been here in Paris . . . until now. Highest praises to Claire Damon for elevating the game. And, as if that all weren’t enough, there’s that delectable layer of pâte d’amande and the perfectly brusque and insouciant character of the not timid pâte sablée that chimes in and says, “Bonjour, mon ami!”

I just love the translucence of the gelée here. You can totally pick out the bands that are the crème and pear. Yum.

Tragically, when I was in the shop yesterday, the little guy here wasn’t in the case. I think I might have arrived a bit too early in the morning. So I had to “settle” for a mango tarte and the unexpected surprise of a new twist on Madame Damon’s Réligieuse Caramel. Expect to see that up here in the months ahead. It was fantastique.

So, yes, the Poire Muscovado gets two three enthusiastic thumbs up. Is that more thumbs than I have? Yes. But it is that good. I’m excited to eat my way through some of the other new goodies she had in the case. I’m also jazzed to sample many of the breads and viennoiseries. The Bichon Cassis – a bit of a chausson aux pommes but with cassis inside and with a caramelized sugar exterior – might need to be popped in my “Other Goddies” section here, one day. Why must they make so many tasty things? The temptation. The relentless temptation of it all!

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My plan this year was to have more upbeat reviews. But the more I explore the 2012 landscape of Parisian pâtisseries, the more I realize that I’ve already posted almost all the good stuff here over the last two years, and much of what’s left is, mmmm . . . disenchanting. That’s not to say I haven’t had some great work in the last 10-day-long binge, or that I haven’t found a new contender for the #1 greatest pastry in Paris (from Jacques Genin, of course), but it is to say that too many of the shops really need to step up their game. You may soon have to read through thinly veiled *****-slaps.

Now, one of the few shops I still candidly criticize is Ladurée. Why? Well, that’s simple. All bad or mediocre work deserves a scolding, but Ladurée does nothing to make me artificially soften my scorn or avoid reviewing lackluster pieces. They’re the only pâtisserie that doesn’t give me free stuff, a standing discount, or invitations to private tastings and events. Even Pierre Hermé’s folks are handing me free macs every single day, even if all I buy is a croissant. Why can’t Ladurée pro-actively placate me and my triflingly juvenile shenanigans of mock self-importance? Arg. On that note, let’s dig into the Macaron Fleur de Cerisier.

You know I’ve often said Ladurée has more really good macarons at any given moment than any other shop. Hugo & Victor and Café Pouchkine have now yanked that title from Ladurée’s grubby craw. The latest creations/refinements of messieurs Pouget and Ryon are just too amazing, while pieces like this one from Ladurée are, uh, problematic. Is it an entirely bad mac? No. Good? Eh, that just sounds a little too favorable for one that falls too short on too many fronts.

The big issue is that the flavor of the cherry blossoms is absurdly subtle. So subtle, in fact, that the almonds in the macarons shell are actually more prominent. They mask what is an otherwise pleasant mélange of floral, coconut and cherry tones in the crème. And if I’m not enjoying the goo in my meringue sandwich, I’m not happy. Sure, the textures all are fine, but that matters little when the flavors are so out of balance. And then there’s this whole nipple situation . . .

I’ll be the first to admit that my pastry binge & review hobby is among the more disgusting displays of consumerist excess you’ll find in the world of food blogging – and that quibbling over macaron nipples just underscores how absolutely ******* ridiculous I’ve made the whole endeavor – but it still chaps my *** that people are being sold something like this. If a shop has the gall to charge upwards of 2 euros for what’s effectively a tiny meringue cookie, then it should be perfect. And when it isn’t, it should be packed up with all the other day’s rejects and broken bits, then shuttled off to help feed those in need. Let me be the idiot to pay 12 euros for a small box of flawless macs, and then let the poor have the be-nippled ones for free. Macarons for all!

Not that I want to be all negative or anything. The ratio of filling to shell is excellent. Thumbs up for that.

So, no, Ladurée’s Macaron Fleur de Cerisier doesn’t work for me. I’m still in love with their fleur d’oranger, réglisse, vanille, cassis, rose, and assorted others, but the subject of today’s photos just didn’t delight any of my 10,000 tastebuds. Guess I’ll just have to visit Hugo & Victor or Café Pouchkine in order to feel adequately amused (of course I’m saying that as if I don’t keep boxes of their macs in my fridge on standby at all times).

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Much as I think Jacques Genin makes the sun rise and set over the Parisian pastry scene, I’m growing to love Pierre Hermé a little more with each passing year. Why? Because, of all the Parisian shops, I think he does more to consistently push out a greater volume of fresh and original work. Is each new pastry or macaron a homerun? No, but some are. And do I find the idea of a 6-pastry “fetish” a little nutty? Sure. But I love that it lets me walk into his boutique and routinely discover something I’ve never had before. While other shops like La Pâtisserie des Rêves have almost completely stagnated, Monsieur Hermé is going strong after 10 years on the scene. Kudos, sir.

A few weeks ago, when I heard Pierre Hermé had come out with a baba au rhum, I thought to myself, “Just one?” Of course not. I soon discovered there are 8 of them. And had I been here in Paris earlier in their run, I would have eaten them all by now. At this point, however, there’s about a week left to their time in the sun, and I’m trying to squeeze in as many as I can, while not neglecting the smattering of new pastries from the other shops. First on the list is the Baba Ispahan. Shall we dig in?

I suppose it could be said this is less a traditional baba au rhum than it is a baba o’yum, rendered in raspberries, rose and litchi. In fact, the undulous waves of rose-imbued Mascarpone crème that top the piece are such a delight that I could feast on loving spoonfuls of them alone. But, wait, there’s more! Beneath that heavenly helping of gooey goodness rests a fairly sweet raspberry syrup-drenched brioche, accented just so with a moderately alcoholy dose of eau-de-vie de framboise sauvage. And, as if that weren’t tastebud tingling enough, buried at the heart of it all is a healthy jumble of raspberries and partially shredded litchis.

Texturally, the brioche is perhaps a bit dense. After all, it’s made to sit in the pastry case and hold-up well into the afternoon, so it can’t really be as mindbendingly tender as that of Jacues Genin’s made-to-order baba. But that minor issue aside, the flavors are fantastic, and I think the piece is even an improvement on Monsieur Hermé’s conventional Ispahan.

Mmmmmm … the sweet junction of rose Mascarpone and raspberry glazed brioche…

Maybe Monsieur Hermé should just make a raspberry or Ispahan dessert brioche. If the flagging La Pâtisserie des Rêves can have their amazing standard semi-sweet version, I think Monsieur Hermé can take the reigns on a flavored incarnation.

It almost looks naughty, doesn’t it?…

So, yes, although you have a very limited time to grab one of these before they’re gone from Monsieur Hermé’s vitrine, I’d suggest you snag it. Also consider the Baba Montebello, which is at least equally as tasty. And don’t forget the croissant Ispahan, conventional Montebello, tarte vanille, macaron vanille, and the dozen other things I always tell you you need to get there. Bon appétit.

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Since arriving back in Paris on Wednesday, I’ve been overindulging in everything: pastries, croissants, hot chocolate, marshmallows, poppy syrup, caramels, macarons, fine coffee and more. Starving myself nearly 40 pounds thinner than I was at the end of September has paid off in spades, my friends! There is nothing sweeter than looking at a closet full of pants – absolutely none of which currently fit – and knowing that my only aim in life is to shamelessly grow back into all three waist sizes they represent. Morgan Spurlock was but an amateur. This is ‘Super Size Me’ done properly.

Before inhaling any of the new pastries I’ve been coming across, I’m of course photographing them for future entries here. But I’ve only just begun that process for 2012, so it will actually be Monday that kicks off the latest and the greatest of 2012. Today is “merely” the last of the 2011 photo sessions. Though, knowing I had to end that series with a bang, I saved one of the best for last. So let’s dig into the Feijoa by Café Pouchkine.

If you’re thinking, “This looks like the most sophisticated Jell-O based creation I have ever seen.” . . . well, that’s one way to look at it. It’s actually much more swank than that. Working from the inside out, we have an inner channel of Feijoa – aka pinapple guava – which more of less tastes like a pleasantly funky mélange of both pineapple and guava. Surrounding that is the darker red strawberry-hibiscus gelée layer. Less sweet and more subtle than you might imagine, it’s a taste delight. And then all that rides atop what seems to be a purer strawberry gelée and a very tender base that came off as being delicately anise-flavored.

Their combined forces are a sensation not to be missed – but perhaps a little more subdued than would tickle the fancy of most folks. Personally, I enjoyed the nuances quite a bit, but you might want to opt to another piece in their case if you want a full blast of sugar and/or a tastebud assault. That said, the little wafer above (which looks to me like it has a face on it – or maybe I’m insane), will pleasantly sully your tongue with both a sugar and a flavor overload.

The gold above is beautiful, but it’s gotten me to thinking that more shops should start using white gold (Palladium), too. I mean, sure, plenty of places use silver leaf to adorn their pastries, but wouldn’t it be awesome to instead have a pastry finished in white gold?

Much like the mystery of how Fig Newtons get their cake-wrapped fig center, will the world ever know how the feijoa here in encased in gelatin? No, I think not.

So, yes, if you enjoy sophisticated, lightly sweetened pastries and are looking for a unique treat, I’d give the Feijoa an enthusiastic thumbs up. While I didn’t put it on my Top 38 list last year, it’s definitely a contender in early 2013, when I do an even more expansive countdown of Paris’ finest pastries. And, knowing how much I love chef Ryon’s work, I’m 99.9% sure it won’t be the only addition from Café Pouchkine.

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Two days from now, I’ll finally be back in Paris. I can’t wait. But what’s funny is that, four months into my last six month stay there, I was dying to return to the United States. Why? Because I think I was literally dying. I’d gained 35lbs. (16 kilos). I had no pants that fit, was severely protein-deprived, had the energy level of a 90-year-old, and I’m pretty sure my blood had converted to raspberry syrup. That’s why I’m just going to eat pastry-only meals most of the time – not all of the time – on this go. I think that will still allow me to liberally slog my pancreas, liver and heart, without completely destroying myself again.

Anyway, today, as I’m so close to being back to the City of Light that I can taste it, I wanted to take you around town in a series of my favorite photos. The top shot is certainly key among them – a view, looking northwest from the Louvre. The colors and cloudscape of the evening sky dance off one of the pools, while people lounge and walk around the pyramid and palace. But right there in the middle is that awesome Ferris wheel I still need to take a ride on. If you know of any lovely young ladies who’d volunteer as my escort, let me know. It’s even more beautiful up close…

Since these are just some of my favorite photos, they’re in no particular order. It’s a little schizophrenic. So the shot below is from the daytime at the Louvre. Can you imagine having a house where that was around the balcony, outside like every one of your dozens of gigantic French doors? It’s a little opulent.

Less opulent in scale – but no less so in skill level – check out this door knocker. Between it and the way the paint is peeling and chipping away, I don’t think this door could look more fantastically French if it tried.

Here we have The Exorcist stairs that run alongside the tram that heads to Sacré Coeur. I can’t wait to see it in the snow this winter.

Speaking of Sacré Coeur, my favorite of all the major hilltop Romanesque-Byzantine cathedrals of Paris, here we are. If you’re thinking Sacré Coeur is the only major hilltop Romanesque-Byzantine cathedral in the city . . . well, correct. But it’s still my favorite among them.

Here’s an even closer view. It really is an amazing place. Even though I live directly next to Saint Sulpice and routinely walk by Notre Dame at least a few times each week, I’ve been in Sacré Coeur way more often. One of the last times, I walked in right as the choir began singing during their Sunday service. Haunting, people . . . haunting.

Ahhh, one of the fountain fish in the Place de la Concorde. I love how it spits water out of its nose: A. Because it’s just weird and B. Because there’s no fish that has nostrils as large as Chief Wiggum from The Simpsons or Dionne Warwick, for that matter.

It wasn’t until last year that I realized the below is what a chestnut looks like before it is “just” a chestnut. Its little wrapper seems like it should be some weird tropical fruit – not something that grows in the middle of Luxembourg Gardens, like this little guy.

Speaking of out-of-place things in the Luxembourg Gardens, the palm trees are a little weird to see in a city that’s actually a few degrees north of Bangor, Maine. I love that they’re there, but it’s still a shock.

Aside from the flora of the Gardens, cloudscapes are always fun to take in. This shot was done just after sunrise, so the clouds are lit up all crazy. Plus I was shooting it all with an ultra wide-angle lens, so the wee statue in the bottom left was my focal point, but the clouds at the top periphery have this cool distortion. Definitely among my favorite shots.

Gargoyle! Now we’re over at Notre Dame. I have to admit I was a bit disenchanted by how limited the gargoyle situation is up at the top of the cathedral – or, rather, how limited access is to the gargoyles. There’re all these areas you’re not allowed to walk up there … and lines of sight that are all messed up with fencing and whatnot. Didn’t stop me from capturing this guy though, did it?

Gargoyles! Plural. It’s like they’re three little buddies here, isn’t it? “Don’t come to church! Stay away!” is what I guess they’re meant to communicate. Doesn’t really make sense to me why a church would ever want gargoyles on it, chasing away customers.

Now, if you time your visit just right, you can see the towers’ shadows line up just perfectly in the plaza below. And I know it looks like there are a lot of people waiting to get into the church there, doesn’t it? But most are just milling about. It’s actually quite easy to just slip into the cathedral and slip out. It’s only getting up in it that takes a major wait. And then they force you to stop in the gift shop for like 10-15 minutes, when you’re halfway up. If Jesus knew about that, would he be kinda disappointed? Probably.

Skipping from structures devoted to monotheism to those with a broader approach, here we are at the Pantheon. It’s only like 3 blocks to the west of the Luxembourg Gardens, so I highly recommend checking it out – at least from the outside. Can’t say the inside is as impressive as the Pantheon in Rome, which it was modeled after. Still amazing though.

Right back to Notre Dame we go. Here’s the less oft-seen northern façade, as taken in at night. Isn’t it beautiful?

And here’s the southern side along the banks of the Seine. It’s weird that the first time you see it you just can’t believe you’re right there looking at Notre Dame. But then, once you live in Paris and see it almost every day, it just starts to seem like a normal chuch. But it’s Notre Dame!

Here’s a peek inside the framework of the Louvre’s big pyramid. Cool as it looks during the day, I think the pyramid really shines at night.

Literally, the pyramid shines brilliantly in the evenings. The shot below was done at a very low angle, right against the surface of the water in one of the pools – lest you think the ground around the Louvre is made of one gigantic mirror. I can’t count the number of times I’ve headed off to the museum at night just to soak this in. And while I don’t have a shot of it here, there other cool thing is that there are these super bright lights at the top of the Eiffel Tower that twirl around, and they shoot all the way out passed the Louvre here. So you’re taking all this in, lights from the tower are whipping across the sky, and you can look way out in the west and see the Arc de Triomphe (different from the arc pictured below). Oh, and you’re sitting in the courtyard of a ******* palace! Don’t want to forget that bit.

When I was going through all the photos I’d taken in 2011 and came across the final one I’m sharing here, I thought it wasn’t particularly well lit and was definitely pretty clichéd. “Oh, look, it’s a woman all by herself in the middle of Paris. Loneliness in the City of Love!” But I kept coming back to it; it’s now my favorite. Head tipped against her left hand, one foot casually resting on the ground, I now see much less of a loneliness than I see a relaxed quiet that’s every bit my own Parisian life. Even though some of my best memories are those I’ve shared with others, there are times when a solitary moment is just as indelible . . . and even preferred.

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