Bakeries Galore

Maison Kayser Fauchon. Die gute. Afternoon Tea. Aunt Stella. Comme Chinois. Kobeya. Konigs Krone. Peck. Paul. Henri Charpentier. Morozoff. Kimuraya.

Just A Few Good Bakeries





Kid. Breadaholic. Red-blooded Male. Lost Soul.
Faced with the array of flour-water alchemy, I morphed from one being to another.



This was my 'kid in the candy store' moment. I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into one of those fluffy loaves, interwoven with raisins, chocolate and nuts or break open those crusty loaves of artisan breads.



Since I don't drink, smoke or gamble, I'm entitled to other vices. "Hi my name is Yixiao and I’m addicted to bread."




As palpitations and shortness of breath grips one, I had a sneaky feeling that this must be what it feels like to be a red-blooded male at a Victoria Secret fashion parade.



The fact that I wouldn't be able to bring the bread back to Singapore seemed like an act against humanity. It was as if I had been led to the gates of Elysian but left without a key to unlock the gate.





This list above is not exhaustive so when you are packing your luggage, it might be wise to forgo that armour of self-discipline. Within any depachika, one stood prone to a barrage of bakeries and patisseries waiting to grab you, shake you out of your senses. Clearly, the word 'Atkins' doesn't register in anyone's conscience. Hallelujah!