The Bike, the Baguette, and the Almond Croissant

I've always been a major carbs person. I can remember my dad telling me when I was 12, "If you keep eating loaves of bread for meals, you're going to get a belly like this [he then would point to his jolly beer gut, which, lets face it, is really like a liquid bread gut]." He may be right, but after I found La Gourmandine, a French bakery in Lawrenceville, I don't give a flying eff what kind of belly I get.

Now I don't want this post to be about food; this is a cycling blog for peter pan's sake! But, I do have to just take a bit of time to rave about THE almond croissants. I have never eaten something so perfect in my life as those little crispy, chewy, fluffy, dense, buttery, sweet melty-shmelty bundles of joy. Put simply: I teared up the first time I ate one.

The ride to work is always a treat. It's all downhill, and dodging potholes and riding on cobble makes for a fun terrain course. As an added bonus, the pastry shop is just at the bottom of the hill, after a good workout of coasting. Lately I have been visiting Le Gourmandine on my commute to work, oh say, 2 or 3 times a week. That probably totals 3 cups of butter for breakfast in a week, and not shmear less. I usually also grab a baguette while I am there, because who knows, I may feel the need to eat more bread during the work day. Here comes the dilemma: the 5 blocks between the pastry shop/bakery and work pose quite the challenge.

There is no way in almond-pastry hell I am not enjoying my croissant post-bakery doorway. And I am usually running a wee-bit late for work at this point in time. I also have to carry this silly baguette under my arm pit. So this is probably the scene for any other pedestrian on Butler Street around 10:30 in the morning: Girl in helmet awkwardly struggling to fiendishly eat her croissant, carry a baguette under her armpit, and balance her bike, all while walking to work. I haven't quite figured out the balance to it all yet, but maybe by the time I do, I can just balance my bike under my french-fueled pot belly. Once the walking is mastered, I should learn to juggle all these tasks while riding; upon which time I will probably qualify to join a circus.

But seriously, if Le Gourmandine was any more authentically French delicious, the damn bread would be subsidized.

-The Velodict