Omar S.
Yelp
While visiting outside Washington, D.C. in October 2015, I thought to introduce my stepson "G.V." to the kouign-amann, hoping he'd appreciate my vice, and, if he didn't, that he'd give me his portion before taking too many bites.
Searching the City and its suburbs for the bread/cake (call it, "KWEEN-ahmahn," but please, don't call it "pastry"), I established that Patisserie Poupon was the only place around that baked the Breton delight. It seemed we were headed to Georgetown, but not before I verified that Poupon had the stuff.
Of course I called ahead. It was a lovely Saturday mid-morning, and, "...I'll just shoot over to the bakery, quick-like, and pick up something for my coffee..." had left me languishing in line outside more than one trendy shop, bookended by preposterous hipsters whose sneers revealed certainty that their self-abnegation made them better people - or, at least, better than the rest of us. I never can convince them that I know better; that the payoff for waiting is mostly just bread, and sometimes, heartbreak.
On the phone, the counterman was helpful. He asked me to wait while he counted his remaining kouignoù-amann, and then, returning, he said that he had three, and did I want him to hold them for me.
Did I? Did I just go back in time and to another country, where trusting helpful service is typical and the needs of the customer matter? I nodded at the phone, and said, "Yes, please."
Feeling obliged to repay the counterman's kindness by picking up our order quickly, we saddled up, crossed the river from Virginia and thence to Poupon.
It was as though God wanted us there. We encountered no traffic while driving into town. We parked directly across the street from the place. Entering, we found no line, just two ladies who were picking up an order, who had their money out and ready.
And, once at the counter, we learned that our order had been relayed to the woman working the register, who turned, grabbed our kouignoù-amann and some items we selected on the fly, then rang us up.
Elapsed time (from home): 22 minutes; Elapsed time (at the counter): 2 minutes; Stress level: 2 (only because I was anxious to bite into my breakfast).
Then G.V. and I sat, listened to live chamber music and each enjoyed a kouign-amann with a nice Illy-based cortado.
At approximately three inches across, Poupon's kouign-amann was smaller than I'd expected, but it was perfectly satisfying: tender, flaky, buttery dough, imbued with light caramel and sugar-spangled on top. To my dismay, G.V. liked his, and so I was forced by good manners to share.
Eventually, we left, and though I won't soon return to D.C., and notwithstanding that in the seven months since my visit, 12 area establishments have joined Yelp's list of shops offering the kouign-amann, one day I'll revisit Patisserie Poupon. Of course I will. The shop offers superb food and possesses a talent for accommodation that makes me feel loyal.
