Last year I wrote in this space about our annual pilgrimage to Le Petit Prince, a tiny French bakery in a nondescript strip mall on the edge of Birmingham, and when we recently visited on their second-busiest day of the year, the Didierjean family graciously allowed me take photos (it helped that some very nice new customers had been telling them they heard about the bakery here). In this photo, Juney is picking out her Easter bunny while Gram drools over the almond meringues.

Marcel Didierjean is the master baker whose skill and training seem like something that should be lost to time, or at least misplaced here in Southeastern Michigan, where too often it seems like the population prefers what is new, and cheap, and (in the case of small businesses) a national chain. This is just down 14 Mile from an intersection where extra police were recently deployed to control traffic at the opening of a Sonic Drive-In. Sometimes Marcel gets up at 2-3:00 a.m. to start baking, and stays as late as 8-9:00 p.m. In addition to the sweets, Le Petit Prince offers a full array of French baked goods including the best baguettes in Detroit, brioches, croissants, and a pain au chocolat with almond paste that will blow your mind. Marcel's wife Yvette and one of his three sons are usually there to manage the shop. Two of the sons are artists whose work is on the walls, and looking at these exquisite hand-painted bunnies, roosters, and squirrels, it's pretty clear that the whole family is pretty talented. The Didierjeans brought the molds with them from the shop they once ran in the south of France and make the chocolate themselves (and Marcel trained in Switzerland for two years on chocolate, so you know it's good stuff):


We bought a few of these for my niece:


We would never have known about this place if we hadn't been neighbors with a girl who was dating one of the sons, and when we had them over for drinks and he described the bakery I knew I'd go check it out in the next few days and I'm so glad we did. This year I let the girl pick out the Easter bunny, and she chose this one, because she has already dubbed this The Year of the Wagon:


I also bought one to bring to my sister's house for Easter with my family (our dad repairs antique cars for a living) and my son picked this one out for his Grandpa G. Sadly, no one had the nerve to crack her open to find all the secret little molded chocolates waiting inside. She remains intact.


Here are a few more of their finest examples. Take note also of the beautiful gateaux de soiree in the display case below them in the forms of tiny pigs, mice, frogs, chicks. It is impossible to leave the shop without one of these little treats, which always provide me with a silent drive back down I-75.



On Good Friday, Gregory Didierjean (who works in the auto industry and had the day off) was in the bakery to help the family, and I was able to get a family portrait in the shop with all three sons:


Every time I visit there is some talk about the shop's future. Obviously, a business like this must be supported by people who appreciate fine craftsmanship and the passion that goes into these products. But the Didierjeans also make it easy to appreciate the family nature of their business. Yvette is always there to greet her customers with a warm smile and some words in French. It was hard to pull Marcel away from his work for this photo, but after his sons pestered him a bit he finally came out in his baker's clothing. In the hope of keeping this treasure open for future generations of metro Detroiters, I know I am not alone in selfishly hoping his passion for this grueling work does not soon wane, at least not until after one of those young men is ready to follow him.


Le Petit Prince is located at 124 W. 14 Mile Rd., Birmingham, MI; I believe they open at 7:00 a.m. and are closed on Mondays. There are traditional French pastries and breads every day and seasonal chocolates and sweets for Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and Easter, but please be aware that like any honorable Frenchmen, the Didierjeans close their shop for an extended period in late summer (sometimes as long as two months) when they return to the south of France and presumably enjoy some time off. In the summer, it's best to call (248-644-7114). It makes a great stop before (or after) a trip to the Cranbrook grounds and gardens and museums!

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All photos copyright sweet juniper media, ltd. 2010.

As the sign and flannel outside would say, Sam's Clothing has been a traditional outfitter of casual and outdoor clothing in Ann Arbor, Michigan since 1946. I've loved this store since I first set foot inside back in 1993. I have bought a lot of clothes there since. Sam's carries the sort of clothes that never go in or out of fashion: wool socks, plain t-shirts, work shirts, sweatshirts, flannels, hats, peacoats, pocket knives, sunglasses, Chuck Taylors, and good old-fashioned blue jeans. Sadly, most of the clothing companies that Sam's has remained loyal to for more than half a century have hardly been loyal to the American worker, so the Lee jeans, Levi's, Dickies, and other brands carried there now are mostly made overseas in countries without fair labor standards. There is a nice selection of American Apparel basics (all of it surprisingly cheaper than at the actual American Apparel store down the block) and a few other domestically-manufactured products (like Stormy Kromer hats). You can hardly hold this against Sam's, where the prices are kept so low you wonder how they survive.

The guy in the framed photo above the sock monkey clinging to the saddle mirror I assume is Sam. The guy in the reflection is me, wearing 514s purchased from Sam's Clothing.

The back of the store is the best part, with the Size 76 Levi's 501s that have been there FOREVER and the colorful Converse display and the equally colorful dressing room doors, above which hangs what must be one of the best collection of vintage Levi's posters anywhere:

The 1972 computer-type poster from Foote, Cone, & Belding in San Francisco is easily my favorite:

The old Sam's bag mounted on the wall is a reminder of the days when all those Ann Arbor hippies bought their bell bottoms here. There's also a really great slide show on the Sam's Clothing web page that shows the store throughout its history. 

Why would you ever want to shop at the mall?

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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.

Providing sturdy, American union-made work clothes to southsiders since 1885, Abe Bernstein mostly helped outfit steel workers until the mills closed in the 1970s/10980s. Now they focus on construction workers and "the urban market." Specializes in big & tall sizes and survives mostly on uniform sales.

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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.

For about a year now we've been getting our milk exclusively from the Calder Dairy, a farm less than hour from downtown that you can visit any day during the week and just wander around among their many animals, watch the cows get milked, feed the calves from giant bottles, and grab a dish (and a quart for home) of the best ice cream you can imagine. The milk comes in old fashioned glass bottles and they even do home delivery just like the old days. Gram is drinking breastmilk only in the morning and evening (no more pumping) so he's going through a couple gallons of whole milk every week. I believe Calder chocolate milk may be the only explanation for the fact that I run six miles several times a week but don't lose any weight (or chins). Oh well: it's totally worth it.

Last weekend we made our spring trip to the farm. It's always nice to show a couple city kids where their food comes from.

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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.

We had Gram's first birthday party over the weekend at Supino Pizzeria in Eastern Market, and I realized I've been meaning to write about this place for months.

Ever since it opened six months ago, Supino's has been our family pizza destination nearly every week. When it was warmer we would walk up there on Friday nights with the kids in the wagon and tie the dog up outside, tossing him any pieces of the delicious crust we had the nerve to spare. I always loved going out for pizza with my family as a kid: all Supino's needs is a Ms. Pac Man sit-down table and this would complete the whole nostalgia thing for me. On one of our first trips Dave (the wonderful, hard-working owner and pizza chef) came out to talk to us and saw Gram gnawing on a crust. "Was that his first pizza?" he asked. It was. He considered it quite an honor to have made my son his first pizza, and we considered that incredibly adorable.

The pizza is without a doubt some of the best I've ever had. It kind of reminds me of a less snooty version of the Outer Richmond's Pizetta 211 in San Francisco: delicious, thin-crust experimental pizzas (with plenty of more traditional offerings). Menu here. Although I am a huge fan of three or four of the pizzas, I can never bring myself to order anything but The Bismarck: a pizza with an egg cracked in the middle before it goes into the oven. AMAZING. Now, when my wife calls for a large pick-up Bismarck, Dave usually says, "Tell Jim I'll see him in a few minutes."

We have had yuppies-with-kids-in-Detroit pizza night get togethers here before and the kids run around and create havoc and bother the other customers, so Dave agreed to open up for a few hours on Sunday when he's usually closed so we could have a private birthday party. It was a great venue and everyone loved the pizza. If you find yourself in Detroit, you're not going to find a better spot to get a slice or a whole pie.

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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.