Needing a Pastry

Morning buns, tarts & croissants, from Paris to Roanoke.

Hello lovely readers! How’s everyone doing today? So often the default answer is “fine” or “busy” or “good.” But can you take a moment to check in with yourself to truly answer that? A beat of present moment reflection is a gift we can give ourselves, so we can more honestly assess what is true for us rather than subscribing to the narrative unspooling in our head. Or maybe you need a pastry? For more on that, read on for this week’s word essay. As always, thank you for being here!

PASTRY: a food made from a mixture of flour, fat, and water, rolled flat and either wrapped around or put over or under other foods, and then baked. (Source: Cambridge Dictionary)

I have loved pastries since I was a little girl and my family lived in Paris in an apartment in the 16th arrondissement. My mother and I stopped by A La Flûte Enchantée to buy our daily baguettes from our neighborhood pâtisserie, and it was there that I discovered the pastry case. I ogled the delicacies at eye level—lacquered éclairs, fruit tarts decked out with strawberries, pain aux raisins, the snail shell-like spirals studded with raisins—all while silently willing my mom to buy me a pain au chocolat for my goûter, or afternoon snack.

When I had the good fortune to return to Paris in the fall of 2023 on a work trip, I made time to visit my old neighborhood and was delighted to find that our bakery was still open. I bought a tarte aux fraises and a pain au chocolat for the plane ride home the next morning. I walked to the Jardin du Ranelagh, where I used to play on the playground and ride the carousel, and where my dad took me roller skating for the first time and to attend matinee puppet performances of Guignol. I sat on a bench facing the statue of a man, a crow and a fox, based on one of Aesop’s fables, and FaceTimed my mom while I virtually shared my strawberry tart.

Besides the sheer pleasure that biting into a pastry brings, they make an ideal little treat, whether for an afternoon pick-me-up, bringing a festive element to a coffee catch-up with a friend, or a treat yourself moment to escape reality. Pastries are the antidote to a bad day, a slight you can’t get over, or to revive an otherwise grim moment. One of my favorite scenes in the movie Wicked is when Glinda (Ariana Grande) turns to her school friends and says, “Something is very wrong. I didn't get my way. I need to lie down.” She mock faints and Pfannee (Bowen Yang) and ShenShen (Bronwyn James), catch her and start to cart her away like a plank of wood while Pfannee declares, “Pastry! We need a pastry!”

I also love that the pastry’s base formula—flour, fat, water—lends itself to endless permutations and flavor combinations, both savory and sweet. Here in Roanoke, I recently sampled morning buns and croissants from pop-up bakery Poser Bakes. My favorite of the box that baker-owner Danielle Fasshauer generously gifted me was a not-too-sweet Earl Grey morning bun, with pull-apart tender layers and a supremely soft core, sprinkled throughout with sugar blitzed with Earl Grey tea leaves. My daughter, Ava, and I brought the pastries with us to have a picnic in the park with my mom, and I loved watching Ava relish each bite of her pain au chocolat. I love that she still closes her eyes when she takes the first bite, that a pastry can bring her sheer joy and gustatory delight.

I still love pastries, but now they carry a sense of the forbidden fruit. Before I left for that trip to Paris, my doctor sent me an online message with results from my latest cholesterol check. My numbers were high (they have been since I was 25) and she recommended increasing my medication dose. A year prior, when I was still debating whether to increase my dosage, she also wrote: “I would recommend continuing to reduce fatty foods, and aim to eat leaner meats. Staying away from sweets and pastries are also recommended.” That last one felt personal! This message was received two years after my previous doctor had told me that my weight put me in the obesity category, and I’d continued gaining weight since then.

Those words haunted me as I packed for my trip to Paris, but I vowed not to let it impede my enjoyment of my trip. Who knew when I’d be back in Paris next? There was also a specific pastry I wanted to seek out: a kouign-amann from Pâtisserie Stohrer. Despite living a seven or so minute walk from the historic pastry shop when I lived in Paris as a fashion school student post-college, I’d never allowed myself to go in. I was intimidated by it, for some reason. And maybe as a student of merchandising and marketing, I was more interested in completing my assignment to visit Lanvin and ogle the beautifully draped garments than I was scanning displays of layered pastries.

But now I was back in Paris as a food writer, a bona fide food person, which gave me a certain confidence. I set out early one morning and beat the crowds so I could snag a kouign-amann before they sold out. If you’re not familiar, it’s a Breton pastry that eats like a caramelized croissant. I ordered one right away, then luxuriated in letting my eyes travel over the macarons, eclairs, and fruit tarts before selecting a seasonal fig tart, each slender wedge of fruit perfectly positioned to form a crown. Outside, I snapped a photo of the kouign-amann before biting into it, not caring who saw me eating in the street, letting the crackle of laminated dough send cascades of crumb confetti down my front. I licked my lips, a mix of butter and sugar and ecstasy. I needed that pastry.

I love passing my love of food to Ava and I want her to forever enjoy eating with the same appreciation and abandon she does now. I don’t want to feel like I have to deprive myself, or subscribe to the edicts of diet culture, or my doctor’s admonition that losing even ten pounds would make a difference. Part of what I’m working through as I write my memoir is exploring my relationship to eating and fullness and body image, so that I can instill in Ava a confidence that she knows her body, isn’t afraid to take up space, and can always reach for a pastry when she needs or wants one.