David Lebovitz's account of buying and renovating an apartment in Paris has the singular distinction of being the only food memoir I have read thus far that simultaneously made me ravenous (for all the delights available at French markets) and nauseated (due to the byzantine rules and regulations governing, well, pretty much all aspects of French real estate). Fortunately, more often appetite won over anxiety, which is why I was inspired to make palmiers after reading Lebowitz's mention of this glorious cookie.