The best jambon beurre in town is also the newest. It can be found at Richaud Petite Bakery, a very Gallic boulangerie that recently took over a small storefront in one of the West Village’s most picturesque pockets. The owner, actor turned baker Richaud Valls, started his business. boulanger He took to traveling as a hobby – pursuing the ideal baguette with focused passion – and when he found perfection, he started a baguette delivery business, wheeling his golden batons around the neighborhood on a bicycle (in a striped T-shirt, Certainly!). Their baguettes, which I have had the chance to eat several times over the years, are truly a wonder, with their missile shape and crisp crust, with a chewy, salty crumb. Now that he’s opened a brick-and-mortar bakery, it’s a boon for the city that he can turn them into sandwiches.
For the bakery’s signature Richaud jambon-beurre, Valls splits a small baguette, spreads a generous amount of Échiré butter (from the west of France; it tastes clean and slightly grassy) and piles thin shavings of pink ham and pale Comté, plus halved gherkins and a dollop of fiery Dijon mustard. These additions elevate the sandwich beyond the restrained purity of the jambon beurre, which I suppose could be considered a gimmick, but I don’t particularly mind; Richaud jambon beurre would still be a triumph with just ham and beurre. The reason this sandwich has won my heart more than any other in the city is because of the sighing and crackling torpedo of bread they stuff into it, a whole universe of complexity and depth in its crumb. Valls, in his trademark flat-brimmed hat and flour-dusted apron, is almost always on duty at the store, alternating between shaping baguette dough, making sandwiches to order (refrigeration is a no-no, it softens the bread and hardens the butter) and greets each customer with a grin.
There are other options at Richaud, including a variety of viennoiseries: croissants, chocolate breads or with grapes– all very nice and a particularly rich and sticky apple transformation. But the breads are the real standout: sourdough balls, a pillow-like puff Shokupanand, of course, baguettes – a seemingly endless array, full-size and half-size, mostly plain but a dazzling few rolled in sesame or black poppy seeds or, like Paris meets New York, garnished with everything – bagel seasoning. (You can have your ham-and-pastry done on one of these upon request, but I think it muddles the flavor a bit.) There are also other sandwiches, including a smoked salmon baguette, and a very happy butter-and-jam situation that catapults me back to my childhood, when bread, butter, and jam were the closest thing to heaven my little palate could imagine. But with time comes the salt: bread and jam are now a little too sweet for me, and I return to Richaud more often than comfort requires, ordering ham-börek every time. Heaven now consists of ham and butter on a wonderful loaf of bread. ♦