Scanning the cases for a chausson substitute I couldn't for the life of me remember: is it tarte tatin that I like....or tarte Normande?
Turns out it's not tarte Normande ($4.50). A beautiful thing with a crenellated crust and a filleted apple fanned out on top like a hand of cards, it was as golden as an ingot--but nearly as dense, weighed down by almond paste and a gummy glaze. It was just too heavy for my tastes, in terms of both texture and flavor.
A buoyant and balanced almond croissant ($2.70) was just the opposite, teetering between flavors and textures like a master tightrope walker. The crisp exterior cracked into shards (not that dust that just blows away when you try to eat it), tethered together by the chewier inner layers. The sweetness of the perfectly-proportioned almond paste seam was enhanced by the salted butter in the pastry.
As ephemeral as they are, Luong's pastries are also reminders of the enduring, widespread, and oddly quotidian ripples that emanate from political conflict. Chaussons, tartes, and croissants all belong to a culinary tradition introduced to Luong's native Vietnam in the 19th century under French colonial rule. Luong himself picked up the skills at age 13, when his father died suddenly, leaving Luong in charge of the family bakery. Although he has had many other occupations, baking helped Luong to cope with the upheavals of the Vietnam war and his later relocation to Seattle, where he has been baking (and telling fascinating true stories) at La Boulangerie since 1995.