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For most people, eating a croissant is not an extraordinary experience. Unless, perhaps, you’re standing on the corner of a Parisian street, peering through the window of a boulangerie, stopped in your tracks by the piles of patisserie on the counter. And because it’s the first time you’ve salivated over anything in months.
On a cool, grey November day, I held that still-warm croissant in both hands, savouring every bite: the crisp outer layer giving way to soft folds of buttery pastry…
