Happiness in St.-Germain

You may or may not know that I loathe Disneyworld, but that's another story for another time. While that kingdom of faux tries to convince us it's the Happiest Place on Earth, I've known for years that this is not true. Now, however, I think I know the place most deserving to rightfully hold title.
It's Ladurée.
What was it that Holly Golightly said she loved so much about Tiffany's? That nothing very bad could happen to you there. Ladurée is my version of that dream. Specifically, the Ladurée Bonaparte, located on the corner of rue Jacob & rue Bonaparte in the Saint-Germain.

On the outside, it is the quintessential charming Parisian storefront. Inside, a beautiful world all its own, where time seems to stand still. The cozy, slightly exotic salon de thé, is tucked up in the back, with an upholstered banquette stretching the length of two walls, heavy wooden tables, and leather chairs reminiscent of my favorite type of fantasy atmosphere: civilized colony.
The boys and I positioned ourselves in the best corner of the room, and ordered hot chocolate and caramel macarons. The hot chocolate is a proper drinking chocolate, so intense that I really could only handle about an espresso-cup's worth. The boys, however, asked if they could add sugar to their cups, most likely because they could not resist touching the natural sugar lumps tantalizingly waiting to be grabbed from a tiny silver bowl on our table. I refused at first, but then softened and allowed them to eat one nugget each.
Ladurée was the ideal place to find ourselves in the late afternoon of a drizzly grey day. We fortified ourselves with the hot drinks and sweets, and I gazed about the room, imagining all the back-stories of those around us, young and old, sharing this heavenly respite from the hustle-bustle. An elderly French couple; four young Parisian ladies, one recently married; an American mother and her daughter; a table full of Japanese visitors; each group unique, with a tale of its own.
It was the perfect pause at the end of a lovely day, and we left smiling and renewed.
An oasis of civility.
And, as it turned out, it was the perfect place to go, several days later when we were back in Paris. Somewhere along the line, it had occured to me that the perfect gift to take home for Troy would be a box of assorted macarons. Even if it hadn't been, a return might have been inevitable, but here we had a very good reason, and I'm so glad we did! We went to the front counter and selected a variety of macarons, all perfect. Caramel, chocolate, blackberry, raspberry, lemon, vanilla, pistachio, and rose petal. The young man who served us knew he was in the best place in the world. You can see it in his smile.

Our business finished, we sat once again in my favorite corner, and this time, I ordered the boys hot chocolate and tarte tatins. For myself, the rose petal tea. The porcelain teacups & saucers were white, with wide bands of soft pastel colors, and the hot chocolate arrived in its weighty silver pitcher. The rose tea was subtle, providing the faintest waft of one of the world's most romantic and beautiful flowers. Just a suggestion. I took a second sip and asked if I could try a bite of Wyatt's tarte tatin.

There it was: the best thing I've ever tasted in my life! Ever. Soft apples, butter, caramelized sweet, slightly salty, and layers of puff pastry. To top it off, a small dish of creme fraiche. It was perfect, the kind of sensory experience you want to bury your face in and inhale so you can try to absorb the whole of it through every pore. I refrained.

Notice how the tarte tatin is moving closer to my place setting.

Nothing will ever compare, and that's okay, because now I know it's there. I will always remember those wonderful two visits with Wyatt and Griffin, in this haven where a person can be, as Holly might say, divinely and utterly happy.