“Where are you from?” asked the cabdriver as we crossed the Queensborough Bridge toward Manhattan. It was a straightforward question to which I always answered: France. But that day, the answer changed. “I’m from New York,” I said.
We always remember the first time we meet the people who will later change our lives. We look back at the formal introductions, the shyness, and the serendipity that brought us all together. I remember meeting New York for the first time, and it was the closest I’ve ever experienced to love at first sight.
Never had I seen a city that was so alive. The constant flow of people and cars pulsates through the streets with each pounding heartbeat. The skyscrapers stretch upward with the dreams of the city. And every corner can be reborn in the blink of an eye to showcase a new shop, new restaurant, and new idea. New York is the mother of reinvention, the consummate muse; she’s everyone’s paramour, and as one of my biggest inspirations, I wanted to capture her in a dessert.
But what does New York “taste” like? I started to list the flavors that reminded me of this city. The burnt caramel scent of street-side vendors roasting nuts in the winter as you exit the subway stations. That aroma of hazelnut coffee drifting from every corner deli. The brininess of hot dogs mixing with the tinge of sauerkraut. A garlicky stir-fry hitting the sizzling woks in Chinatown. The sweet, yeasty air of bagel shops. The bubbling mozzarella fresh out of pizza ovens. Every thought took me down a different street. Trying to pinpoint a taste for one of the most eclectic cities in the world was an impossible task. It’s as if you were trying to explain all the reasons you love someone. You would produce an endless list that never quite expresses the vastness of your feelings.
So I went back to that very first time I met New York. The plane ride here had been long and sleepless as I sat awake in anxious thought. It was the calm before the storm of being ushered through immigration and baggage claim and finally pushed outdoors, where I remember squinting at the blue skies and breathing in the cold air. Before hopping into a cab, I bought a Snickers bar. I took bite after bite of the caramel, peanut, and chocolate treat as we drove toward the skyline made so clearly recognizable by the Empire State Building.
The dessert I dedicated to New York is called the Paris–New York. Inspired by that simple chocolate bar that became my first “meal” in the city, I built it by piping concentric rings of soft caramel, milk chocolate, and peanut butter ganache. It is a take on the Paris-Brest, traditionally a ring of choux pastry dough filled with hazelnut cream. The Paris-Brest was named after a bicycle race that runs between the two cities: Paris to Brest, then back to Paris. What better way to capture my journey than creating a Paris–New York?
I could never distill the ever-changing New York down to a few flavors. And so many objects of inspiration are not captured completely in the creations that are tributes to them. My trick is to always zoom in: that little bit of glitter is all you need. Even if you manage to express just the tip of what something means to you, it’s worth a shot.