From Tokyo with love, Jean-Paul Hévin macarons

Comparing a city to Paris - Buenos Aires is the Paris of Latin America! Shanghai is the Paris of the East! - is an ubiquitous, tired and often misleading travel guide cliche. Paris is Paris is Paris, and there is no other city like it (and vice versa). Having got that out of the way, I have a confession to make. In my books, in sheer terms of where to wear and what to eat, I must say Tokyo is right up there with Paris, with the added bonus of being this much closer to home. The Japanese have long had a profound appreciation of all things fine and French, so strangely enough, if you're a hardcore Francophile, visiting Tokyo feels like you've died and gone to retail therapy heaven. But come to think of it, you don't have to be Francophile - just born to shop - to experience this sense of celestial well-being in Tokyo. And in certain respects, shopping in Tokyo is an altogether more pleasant experience in no small measure because in the land where consumer is queen, whether it's Hermès or Hédiard (or both) that makes your heart beat a little faster, you'll never have to put up with a surly word or sour puss look even if you're simply browsing.

The haute boulangerie and pâtisserie fiend is utterly spoilt for choice. Fancy a loaf of artisanal bread? Maison Kayser, L'Atelier de Joël Robuchon, Poilâne and Viron of la baguette Rétrodor fame, to name a handful, are all here (although if what you're after is not tartine but a New York deli-style sandwich, Dean & Deluca has several outposts; if it's ciabatta and their ilk you're in the mood for, Milanese institution Peck has a branch, as does Garbagnati). Need to put your feet up in the hushed environs of a salon de thé? Fauchon and Mariage Frères have locations all over the city.

And to misappropriate the aforementioned travel guide phraseology, if chocolate is your drug of choice, Tokyo is Amsterdam. Aside from Parisians, Tokyoites are likely the world's most discriminating consumers of designer chocolate. Every chocolatier/pâtissier worth his weight in fleur de sel, the names spoken of in only the most reverential of hushed tones - think the likes of Pierre Hermé, La Maison du Chocolat, Jean-Paul Hévin, Richart, Dalloyau , Pierre Marcolini (the Belgian prince of pralines, this last) et al - all have lavishly appointed boutiques in Tokyo, luxe temples to the cult of Theobroma. If bilateral relations could be quantified in terms of chocolate, Franco-Nippon relations are at an all-time phenylethylamine high. Love is a two-way street; in a poetic turn of things, the fabulous creations of Sadaharu Aoki and Madame Setsuko are as sought-after in Paris as they are in Tokyo, justly celebrated for fusing traditional Japanese flavours like matcha, goma, azuki and yuzu with classical French technique.

Before W left for Tokyo on a work trip last week, he endearingly muttered something about perhaps having an hour or two to spare. I didn't have to think long and hard despite the boggling wealth of choice, given that it was a simple matter of elimination. If there is one thing I never can get enough of, it's a good macaron. The macarons in question would also have to travel well, so that ruled out any raspberry-filled Ispahan fancies from Pierre Hermé. Chocolate macarons it would be then, and my favourite chocolate macarons are from Jean-Paul Hévin (but please don't take my word for how astoundingly good they are; see here). The new branch that opened this February also happens to be located in Omotesando Hills - the latest luxury emporium in the swank Aoyama area - which is just a few subway stops away from Roppongi where he was staying. I printed out a map, slipped it into his luggage, and kept my fingers crossed.

W is not one to do things in half measures. He came home on Saturday bearing a pile of macarons, and then some.

I've been on a perpetual sugar high since, meting the stash out through the day, washed down by copious cups of coffee. Despite already knowing what every flavour tastes like, I continue to be amused (it doesn't take much to amuse me) 4 times a day (with my first morning coffee, my mid-morning coffee, my late afternoon coffee, and postprandial), mulling over the right choice of macaron, the one whose flavour is really speaking to me at the moment. This delicious indecision is not helped by the fact that each and every one is a paradigm of macaron perfection - a pair of elegantly domed, daintily footed cookies with the thinnest of crusts and the moistest of interiors sandwiching the lushest of fillings. Chocolat amer? Chocolat framboise? Chocolat miel? All?

Magically, W had also managed to cart back my favourite Jean-Paul Hévin pastry aside from the petite format gerbet macarons. Unsurprisingly, it's the Macaron Chocolat à l’ancienne - a squat little tower of plump, fragrant, almond-rich macarons filled with a plush cushion of silky ganache and finished with a shower of chocolate curls.

As for the tablettes of milk chocolate (Lait Caramel à la fleur de sel; Lait amandes) and dark chocolate (Noir amandes), they're safely tucked away in the wine fridge for a rainy day.