Feeling the "passion" at Lartizan Boulangerie Francia

Roselle Quin

 Passion is vigor for life. The more you have, the more you get. None of us can afford to let life get boring. That starts a downward spiral of passionless living: no interest, no energy, no youthfulness. The most obvious example of passion is the romantic kind. People smitten with true love ( or what seems like true love at the time) are different creatures, whether they're seventeen or seventy when cupid comes calling. Life takes on a new finish: glossy instead of matte. Having a passion for life or anything gives us a similar glow. ~ V. Moran

                                             OK enough of the mush mush because this chandelier 'ere --> totally rocks the mood! 

I lurrrv' the place!! Who wouldn't, eh? Cream and rose velvet and soft inspired lights swiped in unobtrusive refinement... And fine linen..the linen which I messed up with a splat of gravy, hehe!

Ah, this has got to be my new fave of faves, Love, .....swoon..swoon....the dot inside the enchanted circle of my brain - the *rose* among the roses, a poetic marvel of a place, my friend,  where you can fun pretend to be lost in Austen or a bit drunk in Downtony' fantasy...a Lady Mary Crawley sort of feel. :D

The ambience is cherry hush sweet, as if the very bubble  between air one sniffs was fathomed from flesh diamond bouquets of cultured crystals. Just imagine coming in from the smelly belly of the underworld into pure ethereal lightness..you sink on a plush pink blood chair and there you are - alive, relaxed, transported. 

In this mortal plane we inhabit, there are to be discovered, if you will it enough, levels and steps, paths and corners, nooks, and crannies, spaces and rabbit hole roundabout portals to a peek of heaven. This place is one of them. 

It was a Saturday lazy afternoon and we were actually at the shop next door contemplating a dinner of grilled squids and clams after a rather lengthy highbrow discussion about life -- not ours, but of "Hannibal's" - the conqueror!

Anyway, before Hannibal could cross the Alps  and present himself to the hapless folks of far yonder, who apparently, thought him the god Hercules (something like that), my itching curiosity got the best of me and in a second's lull, excused myself and made a lickety- split to check out the dreamy lights + menu next door. 

It was deeeeelightful!!! 
I was smitten by everything I saw and went tripping back to report my discovery to the Hubs. 

Well, you know how I can sometimes be, eh? So I  hyperventilated the awesome of every slightest cutesome corner I saw, excitedly guzzling ooh' ahhh' the smell, the color, the touch of my discovery, while at the same time truly settled for a night of what we had originally planned. 

However, the Hubs, probably brain spiked with my high tweaked blubber, insisted that we forget the clams....and follow "my heart"... aww... :D 

Lartizan Boulangerie Francia for a pastry shop is mythically fabulous! Enchanting! And I don't think I've seen such all out smiling attentive waiters for a long while - waiters who seem to have imbibed a drugged substance of patience as I deliberated ( lengthily...back and forth..like a 3rd grade who can't crack fractions...) on choices. 

Coupled with the romantic interior, splendid breads and exquisite pastries on the counter, and  capped with a decadent line of chi chi sounding  menu, the evening was made for a splendid gustatory experience.

We went in for a simple but delectable serving of ravioli and this generous plate of roast chicken. The bread sampler basket was royally piled with choiced slices from their bakery. 

This is quite the full dining interior. It was an early dinner so we had the luxury to choose our table.

I love the warm inlaid brick interior which  lent the place a homey artisan atmosphere. The chairs, as you can see, are deep red beautiful and such a cushiony pleasure to sink into. 

(And the Hubs, waiting for the coffee and tea selection. )

It is with gratefulness of heart and soul that I write down this memory of a night. An evening of evenings I'd constantly remember as the years flitter on and on and on.

 I'd like to end this post with a feathered line of poetry from Elizabeth Barrett Browning which goes....

“I would build a cloudy House

For my thoughts to live in;

When for earth too fancy-loose

And too low for Heaven!

Hush! I talk my dream aloud -

I build it bright to see, -

I build it on the moonlit cloud,

To which I looked with thee.”