When I tell you that I’ve had more than a handful of morning meditations about my breakfast at Tartine Bakery in San Francisco, take note. As shocked as you may be to read this, it needs to be written: Most mornings, when I wake up, food is the farthest thing from my mind. I’m not much of a breakfast guy and I usually have more stressful matters captive in my thought corral.
Be that as it may, Tartine has rocked that reality like Stockton dropped dimes – that is – with emphatic style. To put it in less esoteric terms: Tartine Bakery delivered the best croissant I’ve ever had, bar none. Granted, I’ve never stepped foot in France, but I suspect there are quite a number of folks in this country (and perhaps that one as well) who would agree with these sentiments.
