tartine

noun

1. a piece of bread on which something is spread

for two consecutive summers in my early years of high school, my best friend and i were invited by her aunt and uncle to stay with them in their classic victorian townhouse in san francisco.  these trips to polk street were the seven days a year that i felt most adult.  each weekday morning, bean and andrew would head off to work and set me and emily loose in a seemingly endless city, where we flirted with the adventurous lifestyle of those who slept in if they wanted to, ate chocolate with every meal, and did a hell of a lot more shopping than was reasonable.

we ventured toward haight ashbury and ghiradelli square on the wharf, but mostly we spent our time right on russian hill, enjoying the serenity of a quiet neighborhood from which we could explore a world of cultures just by walking through the thresholds of the local shops.

there was the antique dealer whose windows were filled with art deco rings and ruby teardrop earrings that called for me every time that i passed.  the minimalist harajuku accessories boutique we frequented was the perfect contrast to the adjacent british tea & sweets parlor, which screamed polka dots, florals, and glittering cobalt and pink surfaces.  our most frequented spot, however, took us to the patisseries of france.  le petit robert, a parisian bistro just a few steps from our adopted home, served us our morning cafe- the ideal sweet start to leisurely exploration.

on the weekends, our hosts would lead us on excursions outside the comfort of their neighborhood- the beach overlooking the golden gate bridge, sausalito for ice cream and exploring, and tiburon for dinner on the water. one such trip took us not outside the city limits, but to the mission district for an early breakfast.  as we waited in line to place our order, i studied the shining pastries and rustic breads that sat piled behind the glass partition next to me and anxiously attempted their french pronunciations in my head.  brioche, gougères, panforte.  and i considered le petit robert another world? kill me now, i thought.  after bean placed her order, i recited the words the cop-outs recite when under pressure: i'll have whatever she's having.

croissants aux amandes, brioche bread pudding with fresh peaches laced through it, a slice of creamy raspberry clafoutis.  every item that comes out of tartine's oven is as fresh, as rich, and as delicious as the best in the world.  

it took me up until a year or two ago to even realize that this corner bakery that lives in my memory is the same one lauded by alice waters, the james beard foundation, and everyone else with impeccable taste and expert taste buds.

i would lie to you and tell you i can recall just what the bakery looked like, that the gentle hum of mixers blending ingredients in the kitchen was just audible under the hustle and bustle of the cafe.  i would paint the picture so you could imagine being there, because i wish you and everyone else in the world could go just once.  but i can't.  i can hardly remember what happened yesterday, let alone 9 years ago.  

what i do remember vividly is that, on the way to the airport two days later, we stopped by for one last taste and a few extra goodies to bring home to our families.

emily and i sat in the back of andrew's volvo, the peach juice from our bread pudding dripping down our chins as we ate like it was our dying meal.  at it's most refined moment, the whole act was animalistic.  i don't think there was enough in the world to satiate me.  

and as i sat on the plane, a paper bag of almond croissants at my feet, i still couldn't stop myself.  i ripped off one end of a crescent...then a little more... and then another layer of dough more... and continued, until all that was left was a greasy bag filled with remnants of slivered almonds and flaked pastry.  

as i flipped through a copy of the bakery's cookbook at barnes & noble yesterday, all of these details that i had tucked away in my head started to come back, bit by bit.  i've been carrying my new copy around with me since, trying to decide which recipe to recreate first.  more to come, i'm sure.