At Cafe Du Thé, a rosy-cheeked barista fixed me a café au lait and then convinced me to have a seat. She brought over a warm, almonde galette that practically melted on my tongue because it was so buttery. It was just the right amount of sweet. My drink was perfectly creamy and the cafe was crammed with dashing French boys.
But in Philly, I'll have to settle for these afternoon delights: