The Ispahan Croissant
There is some dispute over whether the croissant was invented in the 1600s in Vienna, as a way to celebrate the defeat of the Turks by the Polish, or brought about by Marie-Antoinette's craving for yet another pastry. But no one will dispute that the French hold up the croissant, above all else, as a national culinary icon. This delicacy has become ingrained in our palates, but now Pierre Hermé, France’s ultimate pastry chef, has reinvented it. The Ispahan Croissant is undeniably one of the most poetic pastries you will ever eat.
Recently, on a cold Paris morning, I arrived at Hermé’s patisserie on Rue Bonaparte, in the St. Germain neighborhood of the sixth arrondissement, and was unsurprised to see the usual queue of people awaiting their morning pastries — or, as the French call them, Viennoiseries (from Vienna). But something was a little different that day, for there seemed to be a bit of a murmur among the people, a sense of excitement as if they were awaiting a performance by Piaf or Aznavour. All I could hear were whispers of roses and rose petals. After a 15-minute wait under a grey and drizzling sky, we were finally admitted to the establishment, which resembles a Boucheron jewelry boutique more than a patisserie.
We decided to buy six croissants, and devoured two of them on the sidewalk directly in front of the patisserie. Such an act is considered gauche, but it was, frankly, necessary. Later that evening, after dinner, another two were sacrificed as dessert, and the last two were the envy of the other passengers on the flight home the next morning.
Hermé called this new sensation the Ispahan Croissant after a city in central Iran well known for its premium roses, which are used in many Persian dishes and in the fragrance industry. The croissant has a crystalline glaze of simple syrup, sprinkled with candied rose petals. Visually, it is as beautiful as a rose itself. Made unmistakably with puff pastry and butter, its heart is layered with a delicate rose-flavored marzipan and a compote of raspberries and litchis. With every bite, the flavors unfold as the crispy, flaky pieces melt in your mouth. The experience is simply divine, and truly memorable.
The only thing that would make the Ispahan better is a great cup of café crème. On your next trip to Paris, go directly to this patisserie and try it for yourself.
Rony Zibara
Editor-In-Chief and the gourmand-gourmet behind Poetry of Food; a food memoir which has been in preparation since he was a child. His earliest memories are in the kitchen with his mother cooking French and Lebanese dishes, and with his South American grandmother making Spanish dishes as the cook prepared a repertoire of salsas and sauces. Having grown up in Beirut and lived between Paris, Toronto and now New York, Rony’s food and travel experiences have always been part of his personal cuisine. An avid storyteller, he believes it’s not about the size of the catch, but about the day. It’s the experience, the setting, the people, and most importantly, the ingredients that turn the meal and the flavors into a memory. While not a professionally trained chef, Rony is a cook by all counts; his life revolves around the culinary joys of food, searching out new ingredients, new recipes, and new cultures. And while he loves the restaurant scene, he is not an obsessed follower. Rony’s food passions lie in the poetry of the everyday meal and not in the pursuit of the absolute ‘best’ or perfect meal. His extensive career in innovating and branding new products and experiences has been a great support and backdrop for his passions in food culture and is evident in the overall design and presentation of this food memoir.