For the love of lemon

Traveling to any city, for me, often involves a hunt for something delicious that someone has told me about. This has made each of my visits to Paris that much more fun. I should really emphasize the hunt here, because actually fulfilling the mission has been hit or miss. During my first visit, I sought out Ladurée for the best little box of macarons I believed my money could buy (up for debate, of course, but the shop sure is darling and the macarons were yummy indeed). I also tried twice and failed to get the kugelhof at Vandermeersch. (At least I got a nice walk down the Promenade Plantée out of the deal.) On my second trip, we took a long detour to seek out that year's winning baguette to bring to a party - only to party so hard that we never broke into the prized bread stick. It still counts as a fun experience, at least.

This time, though: "Une tarte au citron, sil vous plait."

Last year an article in L'Express began to taunt me from the moment I read it looked at the pictures of the 10 best places in Paris to get a lemon tart. I resolved then that my next trip there would be a mission to try as many of them as possible. And so, with travel plans confirmed for another April in Paris with two of our dear friends, and the convenience of a personalized Google map, I covered all the arrondissements I might possibly traverse with lemon-yellow markers that indicated locations of the 10 prized tarts. 

When you're seeking out pâtisserie after pâtisserie, some tucked away and unassuming, you end up seeing a side of Paris you might not otherwise see. And tasting seven - yes, seven is what we were able to manage - in about four days really makes you an expert, I think. I can say, with much conviction, that eating a lemon tart is one of the most joyous, life-giving activities you can undertake, and doing so in Paris must be what heaven is like.

The proof

The following is a chronological account of how we ate our way through Paris via the tarte au citron.

Cyril Lignac, enjoyed in Jardin partagé de la Folie-Titon, a sweet little park on our way to the Bastille

1. The Cyril Lignac. What a way to start. We got to the shop and the pièce de résistance was on display in the front window. I instantly recognized it from the article. Here was a kind of deconstructed lemon tart with five perfect orbs of creamy lemon nestled on a graham-like crust (it's actually hazelnut shortbread) under a paper-thin layer of white chocolate. But I panicked a little when the display tart was much larger than the photo, with a sign next to it that said "6 servings." We nervously asked the woman working there how much it cost (something like $40) and was relieved when she motioned to the single-serving portions for a much more reasonable 6 Euros. (This, by the way, was the high range - most of the ensuing tarts were less.) She extracted the tart with surgeon-like precision from its neighbors and boxed it up in a take-away container that would become a very familiar vessel in the days to come.

We found a nearby bench to have my first bite. It was heavenly. I loved the crust perhaps most of all, but was also intrigued by these little dots of who knows what, perhaps a citrus syrup with flecks of vanilla bean? The lemon was bright but not terribly acidic. I could have stopped right there and have felt completely satisfied for having tasted the most unique tarte au citron of my life. This was only the beginning.

From Blé Sucré, enjoyed at a table outside the pâtisserie

2. The Blé Sucré. This one was a bit more traditional, and a nice contrast to the one I ate earlier that morning. The lemon was a bit brighter, the crust was a crispy shortbread, and the light dusting of sugar around it just made it pretty. The beauty was its simplicity - and the fun tray it was served on (I wanted to take it home).

From Sadaharu Aoki, enjoyed on a bench at Jardin du Luxembourg

3. The Sadaharu Aoki. Another delight - my third tart that day. This pâtisserie was a fun visit because it is Japanese, very minimalist and white, and beautifully designed with display cases all around and plants on the wall. We got in trouble for trying to take a photo, so just take my word for how lovely it all looked in there. The tart itself looks pretty traditional but when you bite in, there's a delicious surprise layer of fine praline crumbs between the lemon and the shortbread, providing a nice complement of sweetness to the citrus and the buttery shortbread.

Everyone's favorite from Des Gateaux et du Pain, enjoyed in a covered breezeway somewhere in Saint-Germain-des-Prés

4. The Des Gateaux et du Pain. You walk into this pâtisserie and wonder, Am I about to buy a lemon tart or fine jewels? This was indeed the Tiffany's of pâtisserie experiences. Dark walls, brightly lit display cases. I felt underdressed. The woman who sold these to us made sure we knew how special these were, that they contained Sicilian meringue, and that if we were taking them to eat later, we must bring them back to room temperature after taking them out of the fridge. No worry there - we headed out quickly and found a spot away from the rain to enjoy these tout de suite.

I remembered from the article that this one was made with Sicilian green olive oil as well. One bite of this and we knew we had found our favorite so far (and it would remain so). Everything about it was just right - the creamy lemon was perfectly fresh, and the beautiful mound of meringue in the center made it light and delightful on the tongue. Oh, it was just the best. It also helped that we were cold and wet and this was a trip to Italy. I will return to Paris and eat this one again.

From Gontran Cherrier, in Montmartre on our way to Sacre Coeur

5. The Gontran Cherrier. For as light and billowy as the lemon filling was on this one, the crust was the heartiest.

One thick crust

This lemon tart also contains juices of lime and yuzu (a citrus fruit from Asia) and is garnished with yuzu zest. So, exotic points for this one. It was delicious and very filling. But we saved a little room for the one we were to eat next:

From Arnaud Larher, eaten immediately after Gontran Cherrier's

6. The Arnaud Larher. Unfortunately that sweet little layer of meringue slipped off in transit (it was warm that day), but it was still another work of art. At this point, I had eaten so many tarts that it was becoming very difficult to measure each element against the others, but compared to the one I'd eaten just before, this was a markedly lighter experience. Again, I loved what the meringue added and the simple shortbread crust.

From Pain de Sucre, eaten while waiting in line at the Pompidou

7. Finally, the Pain de Sucre. This was another one that featured lime, as well as a layer of almond paste between the filling and the shortbread crust. Like the others, it was a wonderful balance, a perfect example of why a lemon tart is so unmatched when it comes to pastry. What better way to highlight a beautiful, buttery crust than lemon, or to let the citrus flavor shine than shortbread?

In conclusion. Thank goodness that each day in Paris automatically came with 7+ miles of walking, because I certainly wasn't thinking about what this might be doing to my waistline. It simply didn't matter. After traveling to three more cities over the next 9 days, we all agreed that this experience was one of our top highlights of the entire trip: the way it fit into each day there; the variety of pâtisseries in all sorts of neighborhoods; how different something so basic as a lemon tart could be from place to place; and the fun we had "cheers-ing" our pastry crusts before biting in.

I was a little sad that I left three on the list, but I have three reasons to return (as if I needed them). And there's still that kugelhof...