Photo by Kat Carney
I’ve always found West 23rd Street to be something of an enigma. Like West 34th to the north and West 14th to the south, my immediate inclination is to write 23rd off as merely a thing of convenience—a functional necessity for cross-town traffic with fairly decent train options. If I don’t pass a Duane Reade within three minutes of the realization that I’ve forgotten to put on deodorant on a street like West 23rd, I swear under my breath. If this overfed highway insists on breaking up the little nook-and-cranny blocks of my neighborhood, it at least better provide adequately spaced drug stores.
Yet when I turn onto 23rd from the harried corners of 7th Avenue, I am humbly reminded that size isn’t everything. After all, it is precisely the street’s extra width that allows it to support two of the city’s most cherished treasures: The Chelsea Hotel and The Flatiron Building. And nestled among these two grandes dames is a delightfully unexpected array of small businesses, from vintage clothing (The Family Jewels), to gourmet hot dogs (F & B European Street Food), to gloriously whimsical, yet perfectly refined French treats, such as can be found at Madeleine Patisserie.
Owner and Paris native Pascal Goupil opened Madeleine on July 14, 2007, festively launching his confections on France’s most celebrated jour, Bastille Day. Before Madeleine, Goupil was in the wholesale business, baking and selling large quantities of pastries to larger outfits like Dean & Deluca and Crestanello (now closed). The money was promising, but his craft was suffering. He longed to make French sweets the right way: slowly, meticulously, and without a truck waiting impatiently for pick-up. With Madeleine, he scaled way back and decided to focus on just a handful of items: most notably croissants, madeleines, fruit tarts and Parisian macarons.
A macaron novice myself, Goupil patiently explains that they are a flourless cookie and that each region of France has its own proud version. The history of his product is clearly important to him, and he lectures that the Parisian macaron was invented by French master baker Louis-Ernest Ladurée at the turn of the 19th century, when he got the idea to put “two [macarons] together with crème in the middle!”
When Goupil discusses his business, it is all about the art of baking. He seems genuinely unaware that he has created any sort of special ambiance: brocade sofas, elegant and mismatched; gleaming pastry cases that wouldn’t know a streak from a fingerprint; and macarons—oh those macarons!—lined up like soldiers in colors you swore only existed in storybooks. When asked if he purposefully hires French-speaking counter staff to create atmosphere, he looks perplexed.
“The French are usually hard workers,” is his reply. When I inquire what his vision for the café was in general, he says simply, “I don’t know.” It isn’t until I needle him about Madeleine’s outstanding presentation that he lights up. “I tell my girls, ‘This [pastry case] is a dollhouse, and you have to play with it all day long!”
Although Madeleine always seems bustling, Goupil is quick to point out that this busyness is often an illusion. People come in for a coffee and sit for a few hours, making things appear busier than they actually are. Goupil is well aware of the effects of the economic crisis: Sales were down 25 percent last month. Yet, when asked if he’s going to make changes based on these numbers, Goupil says no. He spends 20 percent of his budget on ingredients, which he asserts is very reasonable, and 50 percent of the budget on labor, which he is not willing to shrink. He has just two chefs who work under him (and who he personally trained) and refuses to cut counter staff because “people already complain that the line is not moving fast enough.” His only plan is to continue doing things right and letting the food speak for itself.
Thankfully for business, it does. As I sit down with Goupil in one of the café’s lovely corners, a handsome couple with a baby enthusiastically interrupts. “This is the best French bakery in New York City,” the man says with an elegant lilt.
“And he’s from Paris!” sings his wife.
Just another reason why West 23rd is as charming as any cobblestone rue a city can offer.
Madeleine Patisserie, 128 W. 23rd St. (betw. 6th & 7th Aves.), 212-243-2757.
Yet when I turn onto 23rd from the harried corners of 7th Avenue, I am humbly reminded that size isn’t everything. After all, it is precisely the street’s extra width that allows it to support two of the city’s most cherished treasures: The Chelsea Hotel and The Flatiron Building. And nestled among these two grandes dames is a delightfully unexpected array of small businesses, from vintage clothing (The Family Jewels), to gourmet hot dogs (F & B European Street Food), to gloriously whimsical, yet perfectly refined French treats, such as can be found at Madeleine Patisserie.
Owner and Paris native Pascal Goupil opened Madeleine on July 14, 2007, festively launching his confections on France’s most celebrated jour, Bastille Day. Before Madeleine, Goupil was in the wholesale business, baking and selling large quantities of pastries to larger outfits like Dean & Deluca and Crestanello (now closed). The money was promising, but his craft was suffering. He longed to make French sweets the right way: slowly, meticulously, and without a truck waiting impatiently for pick-up. With Madeleine, he scaled way back and decided to focus on just a handful of items: most notably croissants, madeleines, fruit tarts and Parisian macarons.
A macaron novice myself, Goupil patiently explains that they are a flourless cookie and that each region of France has its own proud version. The history of his product is clearly important to him, and he lectures that the Parisian macaron was invented by French master baker Louis-Ernest Ladurée at the turn of the 19th century, when he got the idea to put “two [macarons] together with crème in the middle!”
When Goupil discusses his business, it is all about the art of baking. He seems genuinely unaware that he has created any sort of special ambiance: brocade sofas, elegant and mismatched; gleaming pastry cases that wouldn’t know a streak from a fingerprint; and macarons—oh those macarons!—lined up like soldiers in colors you swore only existed in storybooks. When asked if he purposefully hires French-speaking counter staff to create atmosphere, he looks perplexed.
“The French are usually hard workers,” is his reply. When I inquire what his vision for the café was in general, he says simply, “I don’t know.” It isn’t until I needle him about Madeleine’s outstanding presentation that he lights up. “I tell my girls, ‘This [pastry case] is a dollhouse, and you have to play with it all day long!”
Although Madeleine always seems bustling, Goupil is quick to point out that this busyness is often an illusion. People come in for a coffee and sit for a few hours, making things appear busier than they actually are. Goupil is well aware of the effects of the economic crisis: Sales were down 25 percent last month. Yet, when asked if he’s going to make changes based on these numbers, Goupil says no. He spends 20 percent of his budget on ingredients, which he asserts is very reasonable, and 50 percent of the budget on labor, which he is not willing to shrink. He has just two chefs who work under him (and who he personally trained) and refuses to cut counter staff because “people already complain that the line is not moving fast enough.” His only plan is to continue doing things right and letting the food speak for itself.
Thankfully for business, it does. As I sit down with Goupil in one of the café’s lovely corners, a handsome couple with a baby enthusiastically interrupts. “This is the best French bakery in New York City,” the man says with an elegant lilt.
“And he’s from Paris!” sings his wife.
Just another reason why West 23rd is as charming as any cobblestone rue a city can offer.
Madeleine Patisserie, 128 W. 23rd St. (betw. 6th & 7th Aves.), 212-243-2757.
