At Burgundy in Paris, pavlova is “an unpredictable but well-tempered festival of sugar and acidity”

LHave hotel pastries become blockbusters? In Paris, the palaces compete in ingenuity to produce cakes so fantastic that they could appear in the credits of a Marvel movie, with the trompe-l’oeil fruit, the hybrid brioche merging bakery and pastry, the pastries with laser lamination like blades… An impressive offering, certainly, but almost a little too “wow!” » to fulfill the primary function of a cake: to please the taste buds.

Right now, one hotel manages to strike the right balance between the simple joy of sugar-generated dopamine and pastry sophistication, Le Burgundy. A discreet Parisian address on rue Duphot (Paris I^er), sandwiched between Place de la Madeleine and Rue Saint-Honoré, between Décathlon and Chanel.

Inside, a marble entrance decorated with charming works of art, a cozy cocktail bar, smiling staff. To find something exceptional, you have to go to the small cart stored under the glass roof where the pastries of Léandre Vivier, a 28-year-old pastry chef who arrived in the spring, wait. The position of pastry chef at Burgundy is coveted in the industry, because the hotel has a reputation for giving young people the chance to express themselves freely. “Here I can do what I love. Graphic, readable pieces that evolve with the seasons, which are sometimes travel souvenirs,” summarizes Léandre Vivier, who immediately tempers: “You also have to know how to put your ego aside and please with well-made and balanced pieces. »

In the snack – he rejects the term “tea time”, which would also involve a savory part -, served under the glass roof, there are only magnified classics, known shapes and smells turned upside down by an unexpected detail which gives back to the desserts their share of mystery. The chocolate tart, with its crispy puff pastry, is striking with its peaty taste of Scottish whisky, while the coffee and hazelnut royal is refreshed by a green cardamom icing – a “souvenir of Jordan”. The acidity of the passion fruit lying in wait in the Saint-Honoré has the effect of an exquisite slap, the vanilla from Reunion Island which perfumes the brioche with milk jam drowns in sweetness the worries of the day.

And then, in the cart of take-away pastries, there is also this pavlova, a generous rectangle of snow-white meringue, adorned with a dose of vitamin C in the form of orange, grapefruit and lemon supremes. What we discover is that, ah! the whipped cream is infused with lemon leaves! Oh ! The heart is garnished with a candied kumquat gel! Hi! Lime juice tickles the gums! Hmm… balls of lemon caviar explode in your mouth. No gimmicks, no trickery or superpowers. Just an unpredictable but well-tempered festival of sugar and acidity, which provokes an irresistible desire to dive back in without delay. Even more fun than a blockbuster.