Did you know that the croissant isn’t really French? I mean, it is and it isn’t, in that the laminated yeasted dough that makes it possible comes from France… but the shape and the very idea of the croissant actually hail from Vienna. So it’s perhaps only apt that the newest trend to take hold in the world of the viennoiserie (yes, that’s where the name comes from) has its roots in neighboring (and fellow Austro-Hungarian) Poland: the babka.
It struck me as odd the first time I started seeing babka popping up on Parisian bakery shelves. After all, we’ve already got brioches and pains aux raisins; what did we need another morning bun for? But as babka continued to pervade, popping up both at traditionally French bakeries and at Jewish, Israeli, and Middle Eastern spots like critically acclaimed Shabour (which, after three months in business, was voted best restaurant in Paris by Le Figaro in 2019), and Maafim, where the babka French toast has been described in turns as “already unmissable,” “indecently good,” and “pornographic,” it seemed maybe I was missing out on something. And so I ventured to perhaps the source of all the hullaballoo: Babka Zana.
Babka Zana, as its name suggests, is a babka-focused shop in Paris’ 9th arrondissement, just a few blocks south of Montmartre and around the corner from rue des Martyrs, which former New York Times correspondent Elaine Sciolino dubbed “a half-mile of magic.” Like many contemporary pastry shops, it opts to do one thing and do it well: namely, babka.
In addition to a handful of regular stalwart flavors like chocolate, cinnamon, and lemon halva (yes, I’ve obviously tried it, and yes, it’s delightful) the shop also tempts patrons in with a regularly changing seasonal flavor. Since May’s was lemon curd and almond, there was no question in my mind: I had to get there, and I had to get there fast.
And holy heck, friends.
I have a tendency to pull pastries apart, tasting each layer on its own before eating it all together. That’s kind of required when it comes to this bun, which is so heaped with lemon curd that to bite into it would likely cause an embarrassing avalanche of lemon all over your lap. But the beauty of this pastry truly lies in the interplay of the components: the dough is rich but not terribly sweet; the crunchy almond layer is nutty, aromatic, and sweet – like a deconstructed frangipane. And the lemon. Oh, the lemon.
It’s not so much a curd as a curd-infused crème pât, and it’s exactly as sour as the perfect glass of homemade lemonade.
There were no survivors.
But wait, there’s more!
In addition to babka, Babkazana also peddles challah (which this New Yorker once thought was a standard bakery offering and was thus positively flummoxed when, upon arriving in Toronto at 18, was unable to find one for the fashioning of French toast) and rugelach.
In a very on-brand move, I opted for the weirdest ones: lemon-black sesame and maple-pecan.
The former did exactly what it said on the box, with the rich depth of black sesame comingling with aromatic lemon zest.
The maple-pecan, meanwhile, managed to steal my heart with an ultra-mapley flavor that never reached the status of cloying. Buttery and rich, it’s the perfect teeny-tiny afternoon snack.
It is worth mentioning that Babka Zana also does ice cream sandwiches.
Just sayin’.
Babka Zana – 65 Rue Condorcet, 75009