Tarts

Since tomorrow night is a chance to drunkenly pretend to care what's happened to everyone from high school since our cuddle-puddle glory days, tonight's all about Diderot. Such is grad school. I've been taking Diderot and his indiscreet euphemistic "jewels" all around town. On so many levels, it was only a matter of time until the following entered my life:

"Hubert Colson owns a pastry shop in Mons, Belgium. Yonatan Israel, a native of Paris, is a filmmaker in New York. Together they have opened Pâtisserie Colson, a trim little pastry shop and cafe at 374 Ninth Street (Sixth Avenue), Park Slope, Brooklyn."

This place may well be the only in New York if not America if not outside Belgium that sells "an almond-scented Belgian rice pudding tart." I wasn't really that up for one today, though, but the raspberry-lemon curd tart wasn't half bad. The bread was apparently stale, but I will nevertheless have to return to find out if the tart is up to the Belgian standard.