The French take their croissants seriously. They should be made fresh, with the finest ingredients and with dough that is rolled twice --the second time in butter.
But don't tell that to Kanye West who rapped in “I am God” about his impatience with waiting for a perfectly executed croissant. “In a French-ass restaurant / Hurry up with my damn croissants.” Mon dieu!
The Association of French Bakers sent off a letter extolling the art form of French pastry making, and told the singer (tongue-in-cheek or real poison, it's hard to tell) that were he in fact a God, "why you do not more frequently employ your omnipotence to change time and space to better suit your own personal whims.”
Billboard posted the letter in its full glory.
But here it is again.
Association of French Bakers
900 Rue Vielle du Temple
Paris FRANCE
To Monsieur Kanye West:
Congratulations on the birth of your daughter, Nord! This is a truly auspicious time for you — and so it is with great sadness that we must lodge a formal complaint against the song “I am a God” from your new album "Yeezus."
Our organization represents bakers across France, many of whom have taken great offense at this particular rhyming couplet:
In a French-ass restaurant
Hurry up with my damn croissants
Assuming you, as a man of means, dine exclusively at high-end restaurants and boulangeries during your voyages to Paris, it could not be possible that the delay of your “damn” croissants originated from slow service. And certainly, you are not a man to be satisfied with pre-made croissants from the baked goods case reheated and tossed out on a small platter. No — you had demanded your croissants freshly baked, to be delivered to your table straight out of the oven piping hot.
And it was with great joy you ordered croissants — not crêpes or brioches — because only croissants can proudly claim that exquisite combination of flaky crust and a succulent center. The croissant is dignified — not vulgar like a piece of toast, simply popped into a mechanical device to be browned. No — the croissant is born of tender care and craftsmanship. Bakers must carefully layer the dough, paint on perfect proportions of butter, and then roll and fold this trembling croissant embryo with the precision of a Japanese origami master.
Our organization represents bakers across France, many of whom have taken great offense at this particular rhyming couplet:
In a French-ass restaurant
Hurry up with my damn croissants
Assuming you, as a man of means, dine exclusively at high-end restaurants and boulangeries during your voyages to Paris, it could not be possible that the delay of your “damn” croissants originated from slow service. And certainly, you are not a man to be satisfied with pre-made croissants from the baked goods case reheated and tossed out on a small platter. No — you had demanded your croissants freshly baked, to be delivered to your table straight out of the oven piping hot.
And it was with great joy you ordered croissants — not crêpes or brioches — because only croissants can proudly claim that exquisite combination of flaky crust and a succulent center. The croissant is dignified — not vulgar like a piece of toast, simply popped into a mechanical device to be browned. No — the croissant is born of tender care and craftsmanship. Bakers must carefully layer the dough, paint on perfect proportions of butter, and then roll and fold this trembling croissant embryo with the precision of a Japanese origami master.
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