Monday, April 4, 2011

Parc Place

  I am channeling my inner Parisian on Sunday morning while sitting in Rittenhouse Square’s beautiful new addition to its square, Parc restaurant - Even the menu looks to be a work of art, offering savory HORS DíOEUVRES like oatmeal Brule and what quickly becomes my personal favorite, 
Breakfast Pastries.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 10
Croissant, pain au chocolat, apple turnover,
Blueberry muffin, pumpkin spiced bread that I swoon over while the waiter gingerly approaches with my morning mimosa. Soon he will not be the only one smiling.

My family obliges my insistence that every good pastry is only as good as the cappuccino it’s submerged in. Saturated and unable to protest the coffee’s unadultering heat, the pain au chocolat scorns my simultaneous sip of mimosa. It thinks me gluttonous. More likely than not I look gluttonous while I shovel the croissant’s crusty exterior in what might as well be considered a trough of serendipitously scooped foam wonderland.

Soon after the pastries disappear, the waiter returns. This time he presents a piping onion soup gratinee .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 10 My eyes light up. The cheese oozes like a science fair project and my spoon returns with only layers of Swiss – somewhere below, the small brown cauldron taunts me with its promise of beef bouillon and bay leaf.

Meanwhile, my brother, mom and best friend practically arm wrestle for final spoonfuls of the quiche Lorraine which they swear is just to-die-for but elsewhere from across the table, I make eyes at the lone apple turnover which sits beside a trio of jams and butters eager to be spread and dipped into my very patient cappuccino which sits atop its china doll white saucer. The Lorraine would have to wait.

Earlier in the morning my mother and I stand barefoot in the kitchen trading cautionary tales about what constitutes "creamer" in coffee. Mom suggests that since there is no milk, we should just bite the bullet and add good ol' Reddi Whip to the mix. My hesitance wins me an extra dollop of mom's makeshift remedy. Admittedly the whip tastes delicious, not out of place like I originally feared it would. Creamy and dissolvent, the Whip lulls me into a cup of joe rivaled only by Parc's customary sugar bowl and creamer with a side of mimosa - to wash it down. 

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