Cherry pistachio crumble from Eric Kayser

I am a sucker for a good crumble. But what I’ve learned is that a good crumble needs to be warm. It needs to be fresh. It needs to be balanced between the oozing fruit base and a melting, scattered topping. The fruits should lend tartness; the topping, sweetness.


Ergo, while Eric Kayser can do little wrong in my book, I think the crumbles are best left to tea salons and restaurants that can serve them from a big, oven-heated dish in which the juices and sugars are all baked together in one beautiful melty mess.

Tart or crumble?

No one does a tart like the French.


But the crumbles are pretty irresistible, too.


By the name of tart or pie...

Crumble, crisp or cobbler...

Which will you have?

Milk chocolate + apple crumble = more trouble

Speaking of nostalgia, I found another Dolfin bar that put me over the edge.

It elicited an indulgent mood, recalling nights of Speculoos dinners and afternoons spent lingering over tea and crumbles.

Or maybe it was just the flavor: “Memories of Summer Apple Crumble”.

I’m sorry, how could anyone ever pass up a chocolate bar with a name like that??

Or maybe it was just me, looking for an excuse to buy another chocolate bar…

Crumbling at Les Deux Abeilles

Two years ago, when I visited Paris for the first time ever in summer, I was Velib’ing down rue de l'Université, when I slammed on the brakes and practically flew over my handlebars. The cause for this moment of graceless drama? The cakes and tarts beckoning from the window of Les Deux Abeilles.

This darling family-run tea salon is everything you envision a darling family-run tea salon to be: decorated with floral wallpaper and antique furniture and filled with warmth and light; run by a lovely, friendly staff that makes you feel at home; and, most important, a menu filled with homemade tarts and crumbles and cakes and scones, served alongside pots of tea or glasses of ginger lemonade.


I know all of this now since I finally made it back there for an afternoon indulgence.

Two years was worth the wait.

Out of all the irresistible-looking desserts, I came really, really close to selecting the pear-praliné clafoutis, which waved to me like a moist and dense, satisfying glimpse of heaven. I was also tempted by the tall, airy domes on the lemon meringue tart and the towering crust that surrounded the cheesecake.



But after a very laborious decision, I opted for the rhubarb-apple crumble.

It was served with a side of fresh whipped cream, and I ate it with French Vogue opened to the gorgeous Kate Moss spread. This was intended to inspire me not to finish the whole serving.


But it didn’t work. I crumbled (hardy har) and cleaned my plate.

189, rue de l'Université, 7eme

Autumn is pear season

This I know because I went to Maison Baron-Lefèvre in Nantes and had pear crumble for dessert.

Crumbles are one of my favorite things to eat. (But for the record, what is the difference is between a “crumble” and a “crisp”?). This French version had the added bonus of a thick eggy custard in addition to the delicious pear morsels, the sweet crumbles and the light vanilla bean ice cream.

With every bite, I kept promising myself that I wouldn’t finish (this dessert was the third course of a very decadent meal, after all). But, what can I say? It was too delicious. It being pear season and all.