The thrill of the chase
It's creeping up on 3:00, the time of day when I start craving treats with a single-mindedness that cannot be ignored. I've been knitting for the last hour on a brushed alpaca stole, sort of a mindless project that will be soft and cozy this fall, and while I should be planning a million knitting-related things during this down time, my mind turns to a favorite treat, the elusive almond croissant from Standard Baking.
It's a shy, temperamental creature, only appearing on certain days of the week when there are leftover croissants. The plain-Jane croissant is transformed, via sugar syrup and almond goo and a second baking, into its sexy cousin, the sweet, crunchy, buttery, almond-encrusted slice of heaven that Josh and I have become mildly obsessed with. Now, like many Portlanders, I'm a loyal patron of Standard Baking. When I first moved here and the bakery was still on Wharf St., I had to have a morning bun (aka sticky bun), no nuts, every time. Then I switched my affection to the chocolate croissant, and that relationship lasted until this year, when almond croissants burst onto the scene. When I first spotted one sitting on the counter I got really excited, sort of like how the cat gets when I crack a can of Friskies - I would have clawed my way to the front of the line to get my paws on it if necessary. It gradually became clear, though, that there would not always be almond croissants. I was told that they are usually made on weekends, and only if there are the aforementioned leftover croissants, and that it was a good idea to call ahead and reserve. This idea was enforced when Aldona brought a bag in (on a weekday, mind you - which blew the weekends-only rule) and explained that she had been in that morning, reserved a couple (they weren't done yet) and when she went back with a friend an hour later, her friend bought the last one. So they sold out in the blink of an eye.
Ok, so the obvious thing to do would be to try to just have some kind of standing order, if they do that. But there's something about the fact that it's hard to get one that makes them taste even better when you do get one. And it's hard to make the call to see if they have them - it's like saying out loud, "I am such a little piggy that I am planning my day around a pastry." The couple of times that I've done it (and to no avail, they didn't have them) I've mumbled into the phone like I was trying to set up a drug deal and I didn't want the people in the next room to overhear. Another pathetic aspect of this whole thing is that our car, where we sit and devour them or our backup option, the seeded fougasse, is drowning in greasy crumbs and seeds. If I were ever stranded somewhere in the car I could probably survive for at least a week on what I could forage from the floor, gearshift area, and cracks between the seats.
But shame aside, it's been at least two weeks, and I've got a little crescent-shaped hole in my psyche that needs to be filled. Please, gods of the ovens....let them be there tomorrow!
It's creeping up on 3:00, the time of day when I start craving treats with a single-mindedness that cannot be ignored. I've been knitting for the last hour on a brushed alpaca stole, sort of a mindless project that will be soft and cozy this fall, and while I should be planning a million knitting-related things during this down time, my mind turns to a favorite treat, the elusive almond croissant from Standard Baking.
It's a shy, temperamental creature, only appearing on certain days of the week when there are leftover croissants. The plain-Jane croissant is transformed, via sugar syrup and almond goo and a second baking, into its sexy cousin, the sweet, crunchy, buttery, almond-encrusted slice of heaven that Josh and I have become mildly obsessed with. Now, like many Portlanders, I'm a loyal patron of Standard Baking. When I first moved here and the bakery was still on Wharf St., I had to have a morning bun (aka sticky bun), no nuts, every time. Then I switched my affection to the chocolate croissant, and that relationship lasted until this year, when almond croissants burst onto the scene. When I first spotted one sitting on the counter I got really excited, sort of like how the cat gets when I crack a can of Friskies - I would have clawed my way to the front of the line to get my paws on it if necessary. It gradually became clear, though, that there would not always be almond croissants. I was told that they are usually made on weekends, and only if there are the aforementioned leftover croissants, and that it was a good idea to call ahead and reserve. This idea was enforced when Aldona brought a bag in (on a weekday, mind you - which blew the weekends-only rule) and explained that she had been in that morning, reserved a couple (they weren't done yet) and when she went back with a friend an hour later, her friend bought the last one. So they sold out in the blink of an eye.
Ok, so the obvious thing to do would be to try to just have some kind of standing order, if they do that. But there's something about the fact that it's hard to get one that makes them taste even better when you do get one. And it's hard to make the call to see if they have them - it's like saying out loud, "I am such a little piggy that I am planning my day around a pastry." The couple of times that I've done it (and to no avail, they didn't have them) I've mumbled into the phone like I was trying to set up a drug deal and I didn't want the people in the next room to overhear. Another pathetic aspect of this whole thing is that our car, where we sit and devour them or our backup option, the seeded fougasse, is drowning in greasy crumbs and seeds. If I were ever stranded somewhere in the car I could probably survive for at least a week on what I could forage from the floor, gearshift area, and cracks between the seats.
But shame aside, it's been at least two weeks, and I've got a little crescent-shaped hole in my psyche that needs to be filled. Please, gods of the ovens....let them be there tomorrow!
posted by Yarn on The Brain at 11:19 AM
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