Behind the register, an aproned baker with a wood paddle swishes sourdough rounds from one part of the stone oven to another. Fruit tarts with Carmen Miranda uppers, gâteaux with chocolate shavings, and loaves of cheesecake share residence in the refrigerated cases near the entry, but it's the viennoisserie on the opposite counter, warm enough to emanate the alchemic perfume of high-quality butter baked with flour and sugar, that demands immediate attention. These croissants are easily the best in the city, their paper-thin outer layers crisp and blistered with that butter, their pliant insides rolled with cinnamon or wrapped around almond paste or chocolate—or both. Their berths, butcher paper-lined baskets, underscore the earthy elegance that defines this sort of French baking.