The Show Moved to 65th Street, the Food Is Another Story

At the end of dinner, the waiter brought out the madeleines, which were wrapped in a white linen napkin folded into a silver bowl. They were unlike any madeleines I had ever tasted-hot and crisp as you bit into their golden scallop shells, then soft and melting inside. For Proust’s narrator, madeleines summoned Maman, his Read More