Baiser Langoureux et Chaud

 There’s been a couple of changes going down at Cafe Presse while I’ve been sleeping.  Both {exceedingly} good ones, I might add.

1. They published a dessert menu.  Oh you tantalizing Tarte au Citron, cooing at me enticingly from the page – I’ll be back.  {Very} soon.

2. Chocolat Chaud

 The real deal.  Hot chocolate so thick your spoon almost stands up in it, unaided.  Served Parisian-style with 2 cups of fresh whipped cream on the side to spoon in as the mood takes you.  Yes, you read that right: 2 cups of fresh whipped cream on the side.

With the whipped cream slowly melting into the dark, delicious, thicker-than-custard chocolatey-ness, it’s like drinking molten chocolate mousse.

Is this stuff even legal??

It must be.  When Trevor brought it over to me I could even hear an angel singing.  Just that one demi-tasse made up for at least 7 months of really bad hot chocolate.  At least.   Hands down – sorry, oh beloved Cafe Campagne – the best Chocolat Chaud I’ve had since the last time I was in Paris.  Or Bruges.

And then, there was the Oeufs Plats.  Those sexy baked eggs craddled in jambon with shaved Gruyere sizzling all over the top. Better than ever, if that were even possible.

Truly, I just wanted to schlep to breakfast in sweats with my hair in a ponytail.  So that’s exactly what I did.  You can do that at Cafe Presse & they just love you anyway.

It was, for me, the perfect breakfast.

As I pointed out to Trevor when he stopped by to ask me if there was anything else that he could bring me – “I don’t think there is anything in the whole world that could make my mouth happier than it is right at this very moment”.

“Have a beautiful rest of the day”, chirped Trevor.  How could I not, Trevor?

“So,” I hear my non-French-speaking readers cry, “What’s with that crazy French post title & what does it mean?”  Long, warm kiss.  Yeah, my mouth was that happy.