For the Love of Almond Croissants
Or practicing self-acceptance on a daily basis.
The other day I walked into my local coffee shop on the corner and was horrified to see donuts behind the glass case. A case that should have been filled with various pastry delights, including the best almond croissants I’ve had in Chicago.
Not one of those bullshit almond croissants that’s been cut in half and stuffed with fake-tasting almond “flavor” and topped with powdered sugar. A legit, made fresh every day, crisp and flakey on the outside, soft and chewy on the inside, with real almond paste, never cut in half, perfect almond croissant. *Sigh.*
I know I’m not the only one who feels this way because on the weekend you have to get up by AT LEAST 8 a.m. to get one of these bad boys. The number of times I’ve been in line behind the person who orders the last almond croissant (or the last 4 — WHO does that?) is absurd. Meanwhile, all the other croissants remain in the case well past 8 a.m. It’s clear who the real star of the show is.
As I walked to the counter to place my order, I tried (unsuccessfully) to hide the distress I was feeling. Instead of just ordering my coffee like a normal person, I aggressively asked the ever-friendly barista “So. What happened to the croissants?” Then she says the single most horrible thing I could imagine: “Oh. Our pastry chef retired.” My brain went into a whirlwind of disappointment: I can’t fathom that I’ll never eat another one of those almond croissants again! I should have appreciated the last one I ate more. How can you just retire when you make the best croissants EVER? How selfish. I can’t believe they’re just going to sell donuts here. Finally ending on the dramatic note of “Why can’t anything good just stay in my life?”
I must have stared at her in disbelief for what felt like a full minute — which in this customer-barista scenario would have been super awkward. In reality it was only a couple of seconds because she continued with “Yeah, until we get our new pastry chef trained, we’ll be serving donuts.” At this point, she MUST have seen the visible flood of relief wash over my body: “Oh. Ok.” I tried to play it off cool. “I was gonna say…those almond croissants were some of the best I ever had….hahaha…”
She smiles knowingly and politely waits for me to place my order.
Now some people might say that I was acting crazy or being over-dramatic. Who cares about the croissants? No need to overreact. Get a grip Melinda! They might be right. And you know what — I’m ok with that. I’m ok being the person who had a mini-meltdown in public over almond croissants because in that moment, that’s just what I needed to do.
Update: The croissants are back. To try one visit Spoken. But if you get in line in front of me and order the last one…don’t say I didn’t warn you.