My grandma always said secrets don’t make friends, but she never tasted the pastries at this discreet little European bakery. For years, I’ve guarded this hidden Washington spot like state intelligence, but my conscience (and my expanding waistline) is forcing me to spill the beans.
You see, their chocolate croissants are the stuff of local legend, and rightfully so. They shatter into a million delicate, buttery shards at the slightest touch, hiding a molten chocolate core that could cure a bad mood in seconds.
The first time I went, I accidentally ate the whole thing before I even made it to my car. Now, I walk in wearing oversized sunglasses like I’m in the witness protection program, hoping nobody judges me as I order my weekly dozen of these flaky masterpieces…