Dear Le Moulin a Cafe,
I Like it A Latte
I lick powdered sugar from my lips.
I place the Cream Puff on its porcelain bed and proceeded to lick the dusty sweetness from my fingertips.
Another bite, the cream is cold.
My taste buds absorb sugar and fat, my napkin unfolds.
Bite 3, the puffed white flour begins to soften.
The corners of my mouth turn slightly upwards, I don't do this often.
Bite 4, the cold cream seeps through the delicate crust.
It soaks up the butter, I long for lust.
My tongue trails one edge, the cream clings to the tip.
My reflexes kick in and the cream slides to the back of my tongue, it's almost time for my first sip.
But first, the last bite, I pop it into my mouth un-lady-like.
(Damn, I wanted to soak it into my Latte first)-too late- I swallow, I smile; a delight.
Milk foam is my downfall, milk foam is my upper.
Foamed milk which layed atop tainted espresso is the happy thought that would make me fly like Pan.
I have a tendency to drink my Lattes too fast as though if I let it sit and rest the foam would sink to the bottom of the cup or evaporate into the sky.
I look down and notice a dusting of powdered sugar on my blue jeans.
It's a rare event that I would not drop some piece of my culinary evidence on my clothing.
I brush it off, gulp down the last two sips of the Latte and smile at the fact that one cup of espresso covered by a pillow of foamed milk and a cream puff can teach you so much about yourself on a Sunday afternoon at a French Cafe on the island of Manhattan.
Do you want REAL FRENCH FOOD? I bet your answer is yes. Do you want to escape the NYC craziness, step into a Parisian Cafe and eat and talk (who knows- maybe even walk) like a Parisian? Then go here Mon-Fri after the kids go to school and you will find yourself in the midst of what some call "The French Mafia" and what I like to call "The French Foodie Invasion."
One of my favorite things to do in other countries is to puruse the grocery store. Some people buy graffiti art t-shirts on the street; my souveniers are the ones that end up in my stomach. Le Moulin a Cafe offers treats, cereals, honey and other goodies direct from France.
Finally, look what I could not resist flipping the pages to direct from their public magazine rack. Whether you want to practice your French or just like looking through the photos, this simple addition makes you really feel like you are on Holiday across the Atlantic, and not in the Upper East Side of NYC.
If you are on Facebook, as is most of the World, go ahead and "Like" Le Moulin a Cafe located in Manhattan. Starting next month they will be featuring their French wines paired with PURE FRENCH CHOCOLATE- absoultely no preservatives; how very French of them. ;)
Genuine Experience
Friendly Service
Real, Quality Food
Great local Art->
To Le Mouline a Cafe, with Love,
K. Jacqueline
I Like it A Latte
I lick powdered sugar from my lips.
I place the Cream Puff on its porcelain bed and proceeded to lick the dusty sweetness from my fingertips.
Another bite, the cream is cold.
My taste buds absorb sugar and fat, my napkin unfolds.
Bite 3, the puffed white flour begins to soften.
The corners of my mouth turn slightly upwards, I don't do this often.
Bite 4, the cold cream seeps through the delicate crust.
It soaks up the butter, I long for lust.
My tongue trails one edge, the cream clings to the tip.
My reflexes kick in and the cream slides to the back of my tongue, it's almost time for my first sip.
But first, the last bite, I pop it into my mouth un-lady-like.
(Damn, I wanted to soak it into my Latte first)-too late- I swallow, I smile; a delight.
Milk foam is my downfall, milk foam is my upper.
Foamed milk which layed atop tainted espresso is the happy thought that would make me fly like Pan.
I have a tendency to drink my Lattes too fast as though if I let it sit and rest the foam would sink to the bottom of the cup or evaporate into the sky.
I look down and notice a dusting of powdered sugar on my blue jeans.
It's a rare event that I would not drop some piece of my culinary evidence on my clothing.
I brush it off, gulp down the last two sips of the Latte and smile at the fact that one cup of espresso covered by a pillow of foamed milk and a cream puff can teach you so much about yourself on a Sunday afternoon at a French Cafe on the island of Manhattan.
Objects in the Review Mirror may appear not as wonderful as they are in real life ;)
Do you want REAL FRENCH FOOD? I bet your answer is yes. Do you want to escape the NYC craziness, step into a Parisian Cafe and eat and talk (who knows- maybe even walk) like a Parisian? Then go here Mon-Fri after the kids go to school and you will find yourself in the midst of what some call "The French Mafia" and what I like to call "The French Foodie Invasion."
The front is a great place to meet for a warm drink and pastry. In the back is this cozy room available for private events and open during regular hours for the public.
One of my favorite things to do in other countries is to puruse the grocery store. Some people buy graffiti art t-shirts on the street; my souveniers are the ones that end up in my stomach. Le Moulin a Cafe offers treats, cereals, honey and other goodies direct from France.
French Goodies. Notice they use Glucose syrup and NOT High Fructose Corn Syrup. Got to love those European treasures called REAL FOOD
Will and Kate! (All magazines are the French version, and I must say, a little more revealing that what we get in the States).
If you are on Facebook, as is most of the World, go ahead and "Like" Le Moulin a Cafe located in Manhattan. Starting next month they will be featuring their French wines paired with PURE FRENCH CHOCOLATE- absoultely no preservatives; how very French of them. ;)
Genuine Experience
Friendly Service
Real, Quality Food
Great local Art->
Art by local Artists, and will still make you feel like you are in Paris
To Le Mouline a Cafe, with Love,
K. Jacqueline
No comments:
Post a Comment