Michel Chaudun's

Paris is a city designed for walking.

I often prefer walking with no view in mind of where I’m going, but last Thursday I had a pilgrimage to make. I traversed the chocolate-rich neighborhood of the 7^th arrondissement, bypassing La Maison du Chocolat on the Blvd. Raspail, skipping Jean-Paul Hévin at avenue de la Motte-Picquet, and heading straight for Michel Chaudun’s wondrous little shop near the end of the rue de l’Université (”rue de loo” as Julia called it).

Usually, I allow my mind to wander when some historical point of interest resets the time machine of my imagination, but this day the old stones along my route really were mute. I could only think of Chaudun’s ganache pavés, perfect little cubed pavers of chocolate intensity. Great chocolate can have that sort of obsessive effect on a man and Chaudun’s is simply the best I’ve ever tasted.

I bought a small number of jewelry-sized boxes for Valentine’s Day (possibly there’s one for you if you’re intrigued by my offer).

Mission accomplished, I returned to my wandering ways, free to observe Paris in reverie as I usually do.