When I was growing up in the Chicago suburbs in the 1970s my mother used to buy tubs of industrialized honey butter. I can't remember the catchy name this concoction had but I do remember how much I loved slathering it over hot toast. I can't say for certain, but I think I probably even buttered the toast first, then covering with a mixture of honey and butter.

For breakfast this morning we had the grown-up gourmet version of this delicacy. Fig bread from the best little bakery in Paris, toasted and treated to a little organic unsalted butter and then covered with a thin layer of miel de printemps from my favourite honey producer. The bread was so light and airy inside that when toasted it became as crisp as a cracker, but the butter and honey softened it to a satisfying edible crunch. The fig and honey were perfect partners, the soft marshmallow texture and taste complimenting the nutty fruit perfectly, with a little sweet butter making it even richer. People ask me sometime what it's like living in Paris and I have to say that most of the time it's just living, you know? I don't appreciate this city often enough, caught up as I am in the daily round of métro-boulot-dodo (metro-work-sleep). But this morning, combining treats from two of my favourite food sources I remembered again one of the reasons I love this city.

At the same time, it reminded me of making breakfast with my mom all those years ago in West Chicago IL (pop. 13,500) which was nice too. I can't wait 'til I can share it with my son too.