I’ve embarked on several hunts in Paris for the “best-ofs.” For example: best cheese, best falaffel, best hot chocolate, best restaurant. And throughout, I’ve been fairly successful in finding places that force me to elicit with a goofy grin, “THIS IS THE BEST FOOD I’VE EVER EATEN!” But for these past few months, I’ve been suffering from taster’s nostalgia: the taste memory of the first Tarte Tatin of my life.
For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of having Proustian philosophy stuffed down your ears in French for two hours in a small, boiling-hot room, the basics are rather simple: taste can faire vivre/renaitre les plus belles souvenirs de ta vie. So for the past several months, I have been searching in vain for a Tarte Tatin that would match the first Tarte Tatin that I ate back in October. After several mediocre versions, I turned to my French cookie guru and fairy grandmother, Slyvie, who gladly welcomed me and several friends into her kitchen to learn how to make Tarte Tatin ourselves.
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