Now, that's what I call a baguette

There's been a deliciously disturbing development in my neighbourhood.
For months, the corner shop opposite our apartment building has lain dormant. The Showgirl and I would emerge from our building each day, nervously eyeing the empty space, worried what kind of retail monstrosity was about to invade it.
A slew of mobile phone shops and "two-dollar" stores had been popping up in the quartier, and we were worried that Rue Oberkampf was about to be visited by yet another of these tacky shops.
What relief then to finally discover our new neighbour was to be a boulangerie. Sure, there are already three boulangeries within stumbling distance of our place, but none of them seemed to produce the perfect baguette. And so it was with no small amount of delight that we discovered the new bakery was to be an outlet of the mildly famous "Gana" collection of boulangeries.
Run by the Ganachaud family - who have baking in their blood - and purveyor of one of the most famous baguette in all of Paris, "la flute Gana", the store opened to neighbourhood fanfare and queues down the street.
Six months later and I have developed a deep and abiding Gana addiction. Lunch times are not complete without a nip across the rue to take possession of a fresh-from-the-oven Gana baguette.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hast truly given us this daily bread - who am I not to gorge myself on it?