TORONTO - There are moments when I'm travelling, when the world is drowned (rest and relief on a Kauaian cliffside, solitude where Parisien lamps haunt light onto deserted, rain-drizzled streets, shared emotions on an art gallery patio as the sun sets through the grand canal, Klimt still lingering behind my eyelids); moments when the din melds into the background until it's no longer connected to me - a floating, distant, forgotten wind.

Nadège is a tiny piece of that moment: Stark, modern, clean-white décor houses complex pleasures of all shapes and colours just waiting; waiting to slow your world down from the inside out.

Nadège, a lovely woman, and french-trained pastry chef, and her Toronto-dwelling Partner, saw a niche that didn't exist elsewhere in our fair city. We of course have café's, we have wonderful places to eat dessert, and we have lots of cupcake shops, but, I would still argue that this little slice of France is unique. Housed in the building they fell in love with on the corner of Queen West and Gore Vale (next to Trinity Bellwoods park and half a dozen coffee shops that are all, somehow, required) that was, for decades, a photography studio, Nadège brags expertly-made, one-of-a-kind, individual cakes, pastries and cookies, as well as kitschy sandwiches, salads and, of course, quiche. But, although everything is quite good, it's really all about the sweets.

Yes, they make a tasty sandwich on homemade croissants (the fig and goat cheese and the smoked salmon are my favourites thus far), apricot danishes of a thousand sheets, and a mean double espresso or detox tea (depending on your need) to fill your breakfast, brunch or lunch quota. But, what Nadège is known for, and what she wants you to know she's known for, is her art-worthy mini-gateaus (cakes) and the rainbow of macaroons decorating her counter (apparently the best in North America - I dare you to prove us wrong).

Perfectly formed teardrops, globes, boxes and shells of exotic flavours like cassis, passionfruit, kir royale, and a flower petal now and then, layered delicately and expertly into an intimate experience of dessert. The best part is that the options change so often - just when you think you've tried every colour and combination, she shows up with a whole new line of dolls.

At $8ish per little cake, it'll cost you (don't even ask me about the calorie count - I don't do that), but it'll be worth every penny. Trust. You'll hum and haw over your choice, taking careful note of every ingredient. You'll admire it and take photos. You'll savour every bite and lick the plate clean with no shame. You'll share, even though you want to hoard, and you'll keep coming back for more. You may feel guilty, but you'll look for excuses to return, like hosting visiting family or interviewing the owner / chef executive. If not for layer upon layer of rich, condensed, pretty, punchy taste, then for the moment of intense pleasure and absence of anything else but the little cake diminishing in front of you.

Am I being dramatic? My mother always thought so. But I guess you'll have to pay Nadège a visit to know for sure. Tell her dee sent you.

Now, shush. I'm eating.

d.