The Paille with Raspberry Jam.

Despite claiming otherwise in yesterday’s jaw-dripping post on Black Butter and Banoffee Pie, I’ve decided not to write about homemade Doughnuts today, so you’ll have to hold your breath (gonna make it my Thanksgiving post tomorrow, so don’t worry – you won’t have to hold it for long).

Instead, we’re going to learn about something else I first tried last week while on Jersey. Not another goo-filled Gâteau, alas, but something still fairly intriguing.

Its name? The Paille (with Raspberry Jam).

I-S’Paille with my little Eye, something beginning with ‘P’

We found it in a French-style patisserie in St Helier (a place called Bruno’s Bakery, as it happens), sitting solemnly among the rows of Cake. And, while it didn’t look anywhere near as fancy as the other goods on offer, something about it screamed ‘Give me a try!’

It’s important, you see, not to judge a pud on its appearance. Indeed, some of my favourite treats – the Bubur Pulut Hitam, for example, or my very own bowls of Hog Slop – are extremely plain to look at, but actually yield a rather delicious mouthful.

So for £1.55 I bought me a Paille (pronounced in the French way: pie-ee) and took it outside to give it a try (not pronounced tri-ee).

What is a Paille when it’s at home then?

Well, if  Bruno’s Bakery is anything to go by, it’s essentially a Jam Sandwich, with Puff Pastry in place of bread: very crunchy and flaky; not unlike a giant (and Cheese-less) Cheese Straw.

Sadly, however, it was also an underdog which failed to take the gold.

Despite the layer of Jam, it wasn’t particularly sweet – the Pastry itself being totally plain. It was also extremely dry, and I can’t help thinking a load more Jam (or even some Cream) would have pepped the thing up no end.

Perhaps it’s one of those treats – like Biscotti, for instance – that needs to be had with a nice cup of Coffee, or even a bowl of Hot Chocolate.

Indeed, as I later discovered, the word ‘Paille’ does mean ‘Straw’, so it seems it was calling for liquid all along.

Can’t say they didn’t warn me, I suppose…