I’ve always had a thing for croissants, those incredibly buttery, flaky crescents that have ruined many a diet at the breakfast table. It all started when my maternal grandparents took me to France when I was eight. I was whinging and whining like crazy about how I would probably break a [milk] tooth on a baguette, so my grandmother tore a piece off what appeared to be a golden crab and stuffed it in my mouth to shut me up. (Yes, similar to what her daughter – my mother – did with a potato chip to keep me quiet!) Let’s just say I immediately fell in love with the taste and texture of what my Lola fed me with.