For this tour, I visited the pâtisseries and boulangeries best known for exceptional croissants au beurre, with the thinking that the croissants aux amandes would be equally impressive.  In general this held true, though there were a few surprises along the way.  I started this journey without a sweet tooth and by the end, finished a few pounds heavier.  Warning: this is not a post for dieters.

Jean Millet, 103 rue Saint-Dominique, 7e

Instead of showering their almond croissants with powdered sugar, Jean Millet coats each croissant aux amandes in sugar creating a sweet yet distinctly crunchy clear shell of glaze.  The blackened ends are approach burnt, perhaps due to the addition of sugar before being placed in the oven.  Sections of the sugar glaze that broke away from the shell appear a frosted white.  The center of the croissant is golden brown with clearly defined ridges running across.  The croissant has a horizontal slice splitting it in half where it was lined with a light layer of frangipane.  But since the sugar shell turned solid, the croissant remained crispy — not a as a result of a flakey texture, rather of hardened sugar.    It was very sweet and tasted strongly of rum.  The inside did have some air pockets but the layering mainly compressed into the frangipane producing a dense interior.

This was essentially a candied croissant.  It was very sweet, and very flavorful.  The dominant flavor and scent was of rum, followed by caramel and sugar.  Some parts of the inside between the sugar coating and frangipane developed a texture very similar to rum-soaked raisins.  Almost like a “croissant fritter,” the French cousin of an American apple fritter.

Laurent Duchêne, 2, Rue Wurtz, 13e

Though flat in appearance, croissant aux amandes from Laurent Duchêne cannot be overlooked.  After sliced horizontally and lined not with frangipane but with a clear sugar-almond spread, these pastries are abundantly topped with toasted almonds and powdered sugar.  Rings of layers were still visible, though significantly covered by the powdered sugar.  The thinness of the almonst filling causes the croissant to lose its texture, becoming soggy towards the middle.  This pastry is best eaten with a fork and knife.  The only parts of the croissant aux amandes that remain crispy are those which did not make contact with the filling, mainly the outer surface and ends.  The flavor is of sweet sugar tasting slightly of caramel, with light notes of almond on the finish.

Despite not being the most attractive, this was one of the better croissant aux amandes.  The lack of frangipane definitely helped.  Even though these were very sweet, the exterior of the shell remained crispy and the toasted flavor helped to balance the sweetness of the sugary almond filling.  Overall they were pretty well-balanced.  My only complaint is the soggyness that resulted in the interior from the liquid filling.  If that could somehow be cut in half, these would be outstanding.

Aux Castelblangeois, 168 rue Saint-Honoré, 1e

The croissants aux amandes from Aux Castelblangeois take the form of a shell with a vertical cut splitting it nearly in half.  This is where the croissant was filled with frangipane.  The croissant was just barely dusted with powdered sugar making the appearance dark brown and gold with sparse specks of white powdered sugar.  The almond slices garnishing the top had been cut in half.  The flavor tasted strongly of almonds and only slightly of sugar and vanilla.  The frangipane was not evenly distributed — three quarters of it was on the left side of the crossant.  This preserved the cavernous interior as well as the flakey texture, while still adding an element of almond and sugar.

When I first saw this croissant I laughed at its unshapely and lazy appearance, particularly with the vertical slice that suggested its maker was trying to save as much time as possible.  Then I tasted it and was pleasantly surprised.  This croissant was not overly sweet, tasted like almonds, and still resembled the texture of a croissant.  It seems that the vertical slice preserved the texture of the croissant’s interior leaving it hollow and crispy.  The one part I did not like about this croissant was the thick pile of frangipane that did bunch together on one side — it was essentially all almond with no croissant, much like biting into a piece of soft marzipane.  But the flavor was not cloying throughout, and would have paired nicely with unsweetened coffee.

Boulanger Julien, 85 rue Saint Dominique, 7e

These croissant aux amandes resemble a twisted paper pouch a parisian pâtisserie  might give to hold its pastries.  Either that or a very fatty fish.  The exterior has clearly visible layers, with fanning on one end of the pastry.  The colors are light to dark brown, completely covered in white powdered sugar.  Garnishing the top are a handful of thinly toasted almonds bound by a paper-thin spread of frangipane.  This croissant was split horizontally and again spread with a very thin layer of frangipane.  This croissant was crispy and shattered on my table with each bite.  Despite being filled with frangipane and cut in half, the inside remained cavernous and was not soggy.

This croissant aux amandes is proof that frangipane does not have to be the enemy.  Despite being layered two times with this almond paste, the texture remained crispy and the croissant did not lose its shape or texture.  The ends of this croissant were the best part as they had little to no frangipane  yet still tasted of sugar and almonds.  The ends were also the crispiest part.  The flavor tasted very strongly of almonds leaving my palate with the flavor of vanilla for quite some time afterwards.  What most impressed me about this croissant was how even despite the almond-ization it still resembled a croissant — many many layers of delicate crispy pastry crisping and making a mess with each bite.  This was delicious.

Thierry Renard, 113 bis Boulevard de l’Hôpital, 4e

Croissants aux amandes at Thierry Renard come in the shape of an arrow, and are heavy, flat, and spongy.  The surface is covered by a strip of custard which develops a more chewy texture when baked in the oven.  The entire pastry is covered with powdered sugar and toasted almonds.  The smell is of vanilla, likely due to the custard sitting on the surface.  The inside texture is of cake, with no clearly identifiable layering.  Breaking off a piece releases powdered sugar into the air; there are no flakes that fall off.

This is another croissant that was completely destroyed by spreading a wet custard on top of a delicate structure.  The end result was a messy heap of sugar, bread, and custard that didn’t even resemble a croissant.  The flavor was overwhelmingly sweet and of vanilla.  The only part of this croissant that tasted like almond were the pieces of almond up top; otherwise this would be a vanilla custard cake.

Frédéric Comyn, 27 rue Friant, 14e

After having read about Frédéric Comyn from Chez Pim‘s post on the best croissant in paris, I decided it wouldn’t be a ridiculous assumption to make that their croissants aux amandes be fantastic as well.  I decided wrong.  Frédéric Comyn’s croissant aux amandes is not the most shapely; it is more like a heap of croissant parts and almonds piled together and buried in powdered sugar.  Some parts of the croissant were a very dark brown, almost burnt, while others a pale yellow.  This almond croissant, thankfully, was not filled with frangipane; rather everything was baked together giving the interior a chance at not being wet.  The surface was not crispy; rather, it was hard in certain places from having dried out in the oven.  The inside was moist and dense; there were no visible bubbles or holes.  The scent was of maple syrup, which when combined with the flavor of the very sweet, bread-like interior texture, reminded me of pancakes.

The almond croissants at Frédéric are overlooked and not given nearly so much attention as the regular croissants.  They almost appeared to be an afterthought lacking form, balance, and flavor.  Is it too much to ask for an almond croissant that resembles a croissant?  This was more like a sweet and soft bread pudding.  It was cloying.  There was no visible layering, and the airiness that makes a croissant unique was nonexistent.  Stick with the regular croissants.

Le Quartier du Pain, 74 rue Saint-Charles, 15e

This croissant aux amandes was flat and wide, loaded with toasted almond slices and powdered sugar.  The weight was heavy, and a clear lateral slice was visible where this pastry had been filled with frangipane.  The pastry was not crispy, and was wet due to the filling of frangipane.  Pieces of either end break off like cake.  It’s possible to see that at one point the croissant aux amandes had layers, but they were so compacted together that they had little to no effect.  The color was uniformly light brown, even on the bottom which was the exact same color as the surface.  The entire pastry was very greasy.  The taste was of frangipane and slightly of vanilla, sweet, and cold from the frangipane paste.

I honestly don’t understand how anyone could sell a soggy croissant with a straight face.  Croissants should never be filled with anything, let alone a thick paste like frangipane — it completely destroys the texture and turns a once light and crispy piece of art into a dense and soggy cake with no life.  The only thing crispy on this pastry was the toasted almond; but the inside was so wet I’m pretty sure I could have rung the entire pastry out and gotten drop of water and grease.  It almost seems as if this was sitting at the bottom of a large pile of almond croissants all morning; but that still doesn’t excuse the lateral incision and stuffing of frangipane, which is unforgivable.  I also found the croissant very sweet, as if I was eating spoonfuls of frangipane directly.  No good.

Au Levain du Marais, 28 Blvd Beaumarchais, 11e

The Croissant aux Amandes from Au Levain du Marais look, feel, and taste more like cake than croissants.  In fact, the first identifiable characteristic is a horizontal slice going through the middle of each croissant, like a layer cake, where a layer of frangipane was spread with a knife.  The croissant was covered with a large spoonful of powdered sugar.  The color was mostly amber with patches of dark brown hidden underneath the white sugar.  Aside from a few tiny pieces on each end, this was not a crispy croissant, and aside from the fact that at one point the layers were folded, had little to do with a croissant.  This seemed more like an almond cake.

The inside was moderately greasy, though it was hard to tell whether this was caused by the large amounts of frangipane or the pastry itself.  Due to its custard-like density, the frangipane tasted much colder than the rest of the croissant, and stuck to the thin layers of pastry forming indistinguishable layers of pastry and cream making uncoiling impossible.  The inside tasted like crème brûlée since the frangipane was more like a vanilla crème than almond paste, with the toasted caramel flavor coming from the top layer of the crust.  The flavor was sweet; but not cloying, and there was little trace of salt.

I didn’t like this almond croissant so much as I did the regular butter croissant.  For me it was too soft, tasted too much of vanilla, lacked a crispy shell, had too dense of an interior, and had too much powdered sugar on the outside.  I don’t think frangipane is an ingredient that belongs inside croissants since it’s too heavy and creamy to enjoy what makes a croissant so delicious in the first place: its light, fluffy, airy, and delicate texture that tastes slightly of toasted butter.

Philipe Gosselin, 125 Rue Saint-Honoré, 1e

Gosselin’s croissants aux amandes are flat, wide, and dense.  Black ridges surround the edges, just crossing over into burnt territory.  The entire croissant is covered with powdered sugar, which stuck out profoundly against the black regions of this pastry.  The surface was very crispy, but only for a thin layer which quickly changed to wet.  This was a messy croissant.  There was no noticible layering inside the croissant, the interior more like a bread pudding of cannelé with a spongy texture.  There were few visible bubbles at the very bottom.  The inside was moderately greasy, and the frangipane could have been scooped out with a spoon.  There was no uncoiling as I pulled off a piece, the inside was too dense and wet for that.  The top of the croissant was garnished with a single almond slice.  The flavor was overwhelmingly of vanilla, and was very sweet.  Pieces of the edges had a very strong burnt flavor.

The first thing that struck me about this croissant aux amandes was how flat and wide it was.  I’ve seen similar things, but they usually involve baking cookies at high altitudes — these croissants were squished — too dense !  The smell of vanilla was very pleasant, except the taste too strong and way too sweet.  Where was the almond flavor?  But above all that, these were left too long in the oven; I found the burnt flavor too overwhelming and could not finish this.

At the end of my adventure, the thing that struck me as most interesting was the diversity of textures and flavors I encountered.  With a butter croissant, there’s a fictitious ideal of the perfect pastry for which all bakers strive to reproduce.  There are no such guidelines for almond croissants: some are airy cakes, others more like dense bread pudding with abundant custard.  Some even have brittle candied shells.  The nice thing about these pastries is that they all do keep quite better than regular croissants, making for an excellent mid-afternoon snack.

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My tasting methods were efficient: there were no left overs. (I don’t want to talk about the health sacrifice I gave to complete this delicious study.) I tried to keep things as consistent as possible by visiting all the bakeries before 10am; nearly 50 of them, in fact. If it was raining, I returned when it was sunny. I visited each bakery at least twice.

So, listed below are the five bakeries I believe to have the best croissants in Paris. They are in no particular order.

Laurent Duchêne, 2, Rue Wurtz, 13e

These croissants are big and bulky; yet, light and airy.  Thick, dark caramel bands wrap this pastry with blisters of tan revealing just how thin each layer is.  A side view immediately shows that despite the croissant’s bulk, it was still composed of thousands of paper thin layers.  The croissant was sturdy; though, squeezing the exterior would have broken the shell rather than spring back.  There was a very strong scent of toasted butter.  This croissant was very messy, and tearing off segments resulted in a distinct crackling sound.  Despite the shell’s dryness, however, the inside was cavernous and moist with spiral-shaped webs revealing the inverse of the piece I’d torn out.  The flavor was salty with a hint of sweet towards the end, followed by toasted butter.

This is one of the best croissants I’ve ever tasted.  Almost hard to tell whether it was salty or sweet since the two flavors were in perfect balance.  The shell had structure and protected the croissant’s shape despite my 30-minute journey home through the Paris subway system.  My guess is the firm shell locked in moisture allowing the croissant to stay fresh throughout the entire morning.  The inside was a nice mix between a hollow cave and a honeycomb, ensuring that the crust’s texture was crispy and pronounced; but not dominant.  The ends of this croissant were blunt, making each bite texturally equal: there was no bad bite.

Thierry Renard, 131 bis Boulevard de l’Hôpital, 4e

Thierry Renard won the Concours du Meilleur Croissant, Ville de Paris 2008, for having the best croissant in Paris.  It’s easy to see the elements that make this croissant so impressionable: it’s ultra-light with thin flaking layers, has an airy soft interior with a rich flavor of butter, and smells lightly toasted.  The exterior is diamond-shaped with one side slightly more pronounced as a boomerang.  The color is a light brown with random strips of shiny dark brown showing where the pastry was glazed with butter.  The consistency is fluffy and the pastry looks more like it was rolled than folded: it’s very round.  The thin and crispy shell holds together pretty well as flakes do not brush off easily.  When broken, however, make sure you have a napkin underneath to catch the thin small pieces that come off.  Inside is sort of like a collection of flower petals: the glutunous webs stretch across the ringed interior, each waiting to be pulled out and enjoyed.  The texture was chewy, and the inside tasted of buttered dough with a slightly sweet, rich butter aftertaste.

These croissants were very enjoyable; but they could have been even more enjoyable had they been cooked just a bit longer to eliminate the doughy interior.  This croissant’s outer shell is a very good balance between ultra-thin and slightly thicker, bringing the best of both worlds into a single pastry: thin enough to flake yet thick enough to absorb maximal butter.  The interior was beautiful, and the thin mesh of butter scented rings gave the croissant substance, while still keeping it feathery and texturally interesting.

Frédéric Comyn, 27 rue Friant, 14e

I read about Frédéric Comyn from Chez Pim, who says this is the best croissant in Paris.  It also happened to win the Concours du Meilleur Croissant, Ville de Paris 2007. Pretty strong recommendations.  Strong enough that despite the terrible weather I trecked out to the last stop on the 4, Porte d’Orléans, to taste for myself.  Sure was worth it.  This croissant has a very distinct spherical appearance; it is nearly as tall as it is wide.  Its center arcs upwards like a crescent instead of sideways, lifting off of the table.  It is quite tall, and perfectly symmetrical.  The surface is shiny with copper and bronze tones.  A view from the side reveals a spiral with hundreds of fine layers.  The outer shell is slightly thicker than paper which gives it a crispiness that is almost moist, since there is more volume to absorb butter.  Dispite the thicker shell, this croissant is not greasy.  When it fractures, it leaves behind large pieces with thick flakes.  This was not a delicate croissant; rather, it was substantive and strong.  The interior is cavernous with large webs of pastry stretching between sides of the outer shell.  The flavor is of salt and toasted butter.  The outside surface tastes sweet in some parts, as if it was lightly brushed with butter containing a hint of sugar.

This croissant was wonderfully different: hundreds of light layers thick enough to absorb butter without feeling greasy.  The salting was significant making this pastry perfectly straddle the line between savory and sweet.  The inside was hollow with pronounced layering.  This bold croissant needs absolutely nothing else to be enjoyed, no confiture, no coffee … nothing; it can stand completely on its own.  Maybe it’s a good thing Frédéric Comyn is a bit out of the way.  Otherwise, I’d be 500 lbs.

Le Quartier du Pain, 74 rue Saint-Charles, 15e

I learned about Le Quartier du Pain from my bible Paris est à Nous – Paris Gourmandises guidebook which says that Le Quartier du Pain has the best croissants in the city.  It’s certainly possible.  The diamond-shaped croissants here have an inflated appearance, and are slightly larger than average.  However while large, they are still essentially weightless since these croissants are light and airy.  The first thing I noticed were the hundreds of layers clearly visible on the surface, some were shiny and brown, others were matte and bronze colored.  The croissant had a very strong smell of toasted butter, the 30 minute subway back to my apartment holding this bag was torture.  It’s hard to call the shell of this croissant crispy since it’s ultra thin, I think flakey is a better word — much like the brown skin that surrounds an onion.  Because of the ultra thin shell, this croissant did not shatter but flaked all over the place: it was very messy.  One edge of the croissant was minimally frayed; but since the croissant was uniformly thin it didn’t add any additional textural element to the exterior.  The inside is chewy and fluffy, and pulling a piece does not uncoil the croissant rather tugs at the surface from the inside — that’s how thin this is.  The flavor is of butter, but not overly toasted or salted.  This would be excellent company with a coffee.

I very much liked this croissant for its texture, weight, and smell.  It has significant body on the inside, so for those who seek something crispy this is not going to fit the bill.  I found the flavor gentle, which would be perfect if eating this pastry with a hot beverage or confiture.  The only thing to be aware of is that it is greasy: eating with several napkins is obligatory, unless you are next to a sink to constantly wash your hands.  But this croissant may be the single most masterful pastry I’ve seen in terms of skill — there is no other croissant whose layers are so cleary detectable and thin.  It is truly a work of art.

Au Levain du Marais, 28, Blvd Beaumarchais

I first read about the croissants at Au Levain du Marais from David Lebowitz, who says that this is the best croissant in Paris.  Frankly, it might very well be.  The croissants from Au Levain du Marais are not so crescent shaped as they are diamond shaped.  With the exception of fanned out frills on one end, these croissants are nearly perfectly symmetrical.  The croissants have beautiful broad stripes of pretzel brown and amber that alternate the surface.  Each tip has a beautiful fanning of layers making it clear just how much work actually went into this edible art.  The width gently tapers off at each side, without any striking changes in size.

When I first tried to pull out a piece, I had trouble grabbing hold !  My hands crinkled through the soft and delicately crispy shell, much like crumbling tissue paper used to package gifts.  I realized more care would be necessary, and I began to tear off a piece with as little force as possible, so as not to destroy the texture.  The fanned end was light and crispy but not dry, more like a butter wafer.  This was the first bite of the croissant I took, and my favorite — each part of this croissant has a different texture, and since none of these parts are dry, each is absolutely rife with the flavor of toasted butter with a hint of sugar and salt.  The inside of the middle is very soft with clearly visible layers of rings.  Stretched across these rings were thin webs of soft dough, full of moisture.  This was a very messy croissant to eat, since it shattered all over the plate.  Some parts of the outer shell tasted sweet — hard to tell if they were sitting next to some other sweet pastries or if the shell was lightly brushed with some kind of sugar.  Regardless, absolutely delicious.

It was a bit of a travel for me to get to this bakery; but shortly after finishing this croissant I hopped right back on the subway to get a couple more.  These croissants were wonderful.

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The first thing that struck me about this dining room were the stunning chandeliers. Each of the three was surrounded by a delicate flurry of suspended crystals, reflecting the morning’s sunlight in rainbows across the room. It was ethereal. The hotel’s famous “plaza red” was brought through the recently renovated lobby into the restaurant in the form of table cloths and seat backs, and even the labels on the dozen Hediard jams covering each table. The space certainly had baroque elements; but the more modern colors and carpeting prevented the dining room from feeling stale. It was incredibly warm and comfortable. The other diners were a mix of hotel guests and businessmen wearing both jeans and suits. I suppose that is the contradiction of a hotel restaurant: since many room rates include complementary breakfast, an enforced dress-code would likely raise complaints. And, I wouldn’t have been able to sample the most delicious orange brioche I’ve ever tasted.

The service here is on a different level of attentiveness and refinement than I have experienced at any other restaurant in New York. Keep in mind that this was only breakfast. I’m pretty sure I could have asked for anything, and while the object of my request may not have been available, I’d be confident that an earnest attempt would have been made to get it. After being seated, I was asked if I would like fruit juice. I was not given a selection of juices to choose from, which made sense when I noticed the woman next to me drinking strawberry juice: there was no selection because everything was available! Not yet confident to order special requests in French, I kept it simple with a glass of OJ and a café au lait. After the drinks were poured, I was brought an extensive selection of pastries. I knew right then that this was going to be a good year.

The selection of pastries included a variety of bread rolls: viennois, campagne, et complet, as well as traditional pastries including brioche au chocolat, pain aux chocolat et éclats de noisettes, pain aux chocolat et amandes de Sicile, croissant noise-citron (sweet, country, and wholewheat), (filled with almond cream and covered in lemon frosting), and a croissant plaza réalisé au beurre noisette et vrai miel d’acacia (made with hazelnut butter and acacia honey). One thing became immediately clear: I would have to go to the gym every day. Otherwise, I might die. After that thought, a second plate of pastries was brought to the table: bostock – tartiné de crème amandine (almond cream tart), a roulade aux fruits confits, and Kughelof (a brioche scented with lemon and orange blossom). Perhaps I should be going to the gym twice a day?

I started with the plain croissant, the softest and lightest croissant I have ever experienced. I used to think I liked the “shatter effect,” the aftermath of the first tear of a crispy shelled croissant that leaves flakes on the plate. Not anymore. This crust was indeed crispy; but it was so thin, that it broke silently, letting out a gentle puff of moisture. The flavor was of rich butter; it gently hovered on the fine line between sweet and savory which my jet-lagged palate appreciated very much. The equally impressive pain au chocolat, or chocolatine as they say in Paris (or at least they do here), was filled with sweet milk chocolate and sprinkled with hazelnut chips.

My eyes wondered to the panettone style chocolate brioche, then to the chocolate-pistachio bread, and last to what would be the highlight of this selection of pastries: the Kughelof. Aside from the Kughelof’s scent of lemon and orange blossom, this brioche was rife with moisture. I’m pretty sure that if I squeezed the brioche over a sink, milk would have dripped out. The gently sugared surface added a level of non-cloying sweetness that was the perfect company to a cup of coffee. Another remarkable feature of this brioche was its weight. I’m not sure how it was possible; but this was dense and light at the same time. But to the thought of this brioche possibly violating the laws of physics, my stomach simply replied, “mmm.”

Lastly, as part the “one of everything” rule, I was onto the bread. At first the bread seemed a little dull compared to the sensational pastries I’d just experienced. But then I noticed these three small cups of what appeared to be homemade spreads. They sure were. Unsure of when these were brought to the table, perhaps since I was so immersed in the flawless pastries, I asked for a description of each. I was given souvenir d’enfance en pâte à tartiner chocolat-noisette (a childhood souvenir home made chocolate and hazelnut spread), beurre de cacahuètes mélange de beurre baratte et de cacahuètes caramélisées puis concassées (churnned butter mixed with caramelized and crunched peanuts), and confit au sirop d’érable souvenir d’un voyage à Montréal, une interprétation originale d’une recette crémeuse et onctueuse à base de sirop d’érable réduit (crystallized maple syrup, a souvenir from a trip to montréal; an original interpretation of a smooth and creamy recipe with reduced maple syrup). Lord, I was glad I asked. The caramelized maple syrup was unreal, a spreadable version of the maple candy typically found in upstate New York, Vermont, and even Montréal. The sweetness and variety of these house made spreads breathed life into the bread, which no longer appeared dull.

Overwhelmed by carbohydrates, I needed some protein and ordered two poached eggs. Not like there wasn’t enough food already. But nothing is quite simple here, and these two poached eggs were presented beautifully on a perfect rectangle of crustless whole wheat toast, the green of the spliced asparagus complementing the orange from the fresh egg yolk. To complete the color spectrum, I was also brought a small bowl of fresh berries. How fresh it is to eat berries that were not refrigerated. I also took note of a flavor of jelly I’d never seen before: rose jelly. It was more fragrant than flavor; but still, an interesting addition to an already complete set of flavors.

What a spectacular way to begin my stay in Paris. While I don’t yet have a basis for comparison in France, this was certainly stronger than any pastry selection I’ve had in New York. After my meal I lingered at the table for what seemed like an hour. Not because I felt like an inflated francophile embracing “café culture;” but because I was so full I was afraid that if I got up I might knock something over. Moderation, it seems, will be one of my challenges. I look forward to returning in the near future; only next time, for dinner.

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