Much as I love buckets of profiteroles, I have a strong sentimental attachment to the éclair. When I was growing up in Honolulu, my dad would occasionally take me, after we went swimming on a Sunday, to a place called Ginza Bakery. It had these pretty white wrought iron chairs with round pink cushion seats. I would sit on one and order my éclair. It would arrive with a dainty fork, which I ignored in favour of shoveling it into my face with my hands.

i was secretly hoping for Boat Midler (she nominated herself lol)