バゲットを食べ比べて行く④ : PAUL Shinagawaekiten

Four and a half decades ago, during my student days, I visited Paris several times.
For me, it was a budget trip filled with part-time work and leisure, while many Japanese people indulged in brand shopping and fine dining. The world of European art and sports thrived on the lives of those living in poverty and immigrants, and traveling through Europe meant immersing myself in that side of life. Looking back, it was truly an invaluable experience.

While strolling through Paris one morning, I noticed a few bakeries with long lines of French people outside, and this shop was one of those popular spots. I remember the stylishly simple black exterior with 'PAUL' written in white.

I bought a slender, seemingly hard French bread called flûte and wandered through the cobblestone streets of the student district, enjoying every bite. It may sound naive, but it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I’m glad I pursued what I wanted to do while I was young.

According to the official site of its Japanese branch, PAUL expanded to Nagoya in 1991 and then to Tokyo in 2001. I was thrilled to know that I could also enjoy PAUL in Tokyo. When I first entered the workforce, I visited the first shop in Yaesu several times. The spacious store was filled with delicious-looking bread lined up in the showcase, and while enjoying tea there, I felt a wonderfully global atmosphere, reminiscing about my time in Paris.

Time passed, and now that I am middle-aged with ten years of overseas work experience, I’ve returned to Japan and am once again exploring the world of French bread. After work, I often visit the shop I've had my eye on to buy bread, sticking it into my backpack to bring home.

The PAUL shop at Shinagawa station is convenient, and I've bought from there frequently. Alongside it are high-level shops for ham, cheese, and wine, which can add up if I indulge in a luxurious assortment, but a baguette is typically an everyday item, costing around JPY 300 to 400, which feels quite reasonable. This French bread is officially not a baguette but a flûte, similar to what I had in Paris. I wonder if baguettes or bâtards are available earlier in the day?

The next morning, as I cut into it, I noticed the crust (or 'coup') didn't seem to have developed much. The high-moisture country bread I bought alongside it had a well-developed crust and looked incredibly chewy. Maybe the flûte was intentionally made this way? The aroma was pleasant. I toasted it for two and a half minutes and then added butter before toasting for an additional 30 seconds.

I filled it with plenty of ham, and wow, it was delicious. The toasty, nutty flavor of the crust was truly exceptional. However, I feel that the excitement I once felt when tasting it has slightly diminished. Has my palate changed over the years? It's remarkable how we adapt. I tried switching things up with jam and honey. Though I find mornings challenging, I've been waking up early lately just to enjoy comparing breads. But August was hot... I felt weary seeing the news every day.

Crust: 8
Crumb: 8

Overall, it remains one of my favorites. I will definitely return. It was a great meal.

During my student days, I was a backpacker, and fifteen years ago, I was in Paris for the second time.

At that time, Japanese cuisine was still a niche for just a few people. In the 9th arrondissement, behind the Opéra, there was a corner filled with Japanese restaurants, where French people struggled to eat ramen as if it were pasta. That sight still lingers in my memory.

Being on a tight budget, I stayed in a hostel dormitory, which cost about JPY 2000. The currency was still the franc, just before the switch to euros. Thinking back, I must have witnessed quite a bit of history.

Breakfast consisted of French bread and a bowl of café au lait the size of a donburi. The bread was tossed from a large box-shaped machine as if it were a grater, and it came out perfectly sliced. Looking at it, I thought it resembled a French meal with miso soup.

Walking through Paris back then, a standout was 'PAUL,' which had several locations around the city. What drew attention was the long line of French customers.

The logo, white on a black square, was stylish even back then. Once inside, nearly all the staff were African, all wearing the same crisp white uniforms. That was cool, too.

In my twenties, I strutted through the streets like a Parisian, carrying a long baguette under my arm, taking bites with an air of impatience, and thought to myself, 'I've achieved something with this...' Looking back, it seems silly, but I was young and full of energy. The French bread was unlike anything I had known—thin, crusty, with a slight tang and a delicious wheaty flavor.

I've visited 'PAUL' in Yaesu many times. That place made me feel as if I were worldly and knowledgeable.

Now, I can buy that same bread next to Shinagawa Station if I have some coins. Although the novelty and special feeling are nowhere near what they were back then, the bread tastes just as good as it did then.

Right in front of me, my daughter is munching on the bread, exclaiming, 'Delicious, delicious...' Yes, isn't it? But doesn’t your jaw hurt?