Don’t get me wrong, I love Japanese food. I eat it nearly every day. But when you haven’t been brought up in a rice culture. every now and then you crave something else.
We live in a tiny apartment here in Kyoto – far too small to dry our washing, so once or twice a week we pedal off to the launderette to get everything dried. And while our clothes are swirling around in the giant metal tumblers, we have the perfect excuse to spend 30 minutes across the road in Le Petit Mec, a patisserie so continental you’d think you were in Paris.
With a lullaby of French accents wafting out from the radio, old film posters on the wall and flaky croissants stacked up by the window, it’s a little piece of heaven.
Doing the weekly wash is a routine. Adding a cafe au lait and pain au chocolat makes it a delicious ritual.
This is what Saturday mornings look like round here.
