A theater in summer. The calm of a sunny drowse. And a children's snack. Jany. She's busy in the kitchen, between sugar and flour. What she likes to prepare, over all other delectables, is tarte tatin. The adulation melts on the glass. She drops the brown sugar grains in the silence of a forfeiture, icy rain. Its scent swirls around the room, echoes to the gallery, and travels to the path. Ignited apples and cinnamon sticks fade into the exhalations of air confection. also come caramel, almonds and vanilla, important aromas that loiter into the evening.

Antoine's son, Jany carries the scent of his fashions, galettes, madeleines, and eyefuls. An original nonage confection, Jany delivers the sweet recollections of all our indelible delectables. Then is to your feelings.
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