Berthillon Glaces



As much as everyone raves about Berthillon, it’s important to remember that it really is that good. The first day we were in Paris, I had the chocolate and mango glaces at Le Cafe Gourmand near the Jardin de Luxemborg. The last full day we were in Paris, we went to the Berthillon near Notre Dame, and I had to have the mango again, but with the amaretto praline. And a sugar waffle. It was amazing, again.

Later in the day, we went to Amorino, to compare the gelatto. I had their mango, which was very good, but didn’t really compare to the exquisite taste of the Berthillon. But still a very good treat!


3 Responses

  1. Now there’s the real Paris!

    I know some of my comments on a couple of recent posts sound awfully serious like I have a poker up my (fill in the blank). I don’t mean it that way. What I mean is that one doesn’t have to concentrate on the negative, even if it surrounds us.

    Okay, that sounded even worse. You don’t concentrate on the negative, I didn’t meant that. I meant the things you related sounded like people concentrating on the negative (or meaningless), and it sparked thoughts from me.

    Hell, I just shoulda kept my mouth (keyboard) shut.

    • I’m usually amused by the sort of sardonic humor I find in those kind of tidbits. Life can be dark, and finding the humor in those dark moments is one of the things that keeps us sane. ;^)

  2. I love good sorbet!

    I finally remembered where I had a memorable [okay, that was a conscious play on words, because for a while I couldn’t remember what I describe as “memorable”] flight of sorbets. It was at the Roadhouse restaurant in Hyannis. Note I didn’t say “Hyannisport,” I don’t actually know where that is, or if there is such a place.

    Whenever I have read one of your posts from France, that Judy Collins song (well, she sang it, I don’t know who authored it)

    “My father always promised us
    That we would live in France.
    We’d go boating on the Seine,
    and I would learn to dance.”

    It’s a really wistful song. Steve Stills played some tasty guitar on that album, and I think he was allegedly in love with (or had a crush on) Judy Collins at that time, but it was, I hear, unrequited. Thus the song: “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes.”

    TBD out.

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