I have a soft spot for great places. And a decidedly less reasonable weakness for certain desserts. But ordering a cookbook from the United States just to recreate a pie I tasted in Los Angeles? Apparently, that was a small step I was more than happy to take.

The culprit is Key Lime Pie. I discovered it at Café Gratitude in Venice, and let me warn you: this is not the kind of dessert you try absent-mindedly before moving on to something else. This one caught my eye, then won me over with the very first bite. Nine years later, it still holds a special place in my very personal dessert hall of fame.

It all began in 2017, during a four-week stay in Los Angeles. We had rented an adorable villa called The 21 Palm trees, just a few streets away from Abbot Kinney in Venice. Farrell was three and a half, Vadim was five months old, and we were determined to make the most of the city. Between walks, discoveries and favourite spots, we quickly settled into a routine in the neighbourhood. Back then, as I remember it, Gjelina had only recently opened, Rose Cafe was still a reliable favourite before closing its doors, and The Butcher’s Daughter was already one of my go-to places.

But my favourite spot, the one I returned to every two or three days for lunch, was Café Gratitude. I loved the food, its plant-based approach, the atmosphere… And then, of course, there was that famous Key Lime Pie.

Café Gratitude: More Than Just a Pretty Place

The name sets the tone: here, gratitude is more than a feel-good idea displayed on a wall. It is the guiding principle behind a concept that brings together plant-based food, wellbeing and a sense of community. Founded in California in the early 2000s, Café Gratitude champions a different way of eating, with entirely plant-based dishes and particular attention to ingredients, pleasure and human connection.

There is also a little detail I absolutely love, one that feels quintessentially Californian: dishes have names like I Am Grateful, I Am Dazzling or I Am Open-Hearted. In other words, your lunch comes with a positive affirmation on the side. Some might find it a little out there. I find it rather delightful, especially when the food lives up to the promise.

And it did. I tried their salads and other dishes, including the Brussels sprout salad and Eggs Benedict. Everything was vegan and delicious, and this approach to food reflected something I have always cared about: eating for pleasure, while also paying attention to what goes onto my plate and what I give my body.

And then there was their Key Lime Pie.

My Favourite Dessert in the World

There, I said it. I could try to qualify that statement, draw up a list or pretend to maintain a little critical distance, but what would be the point? This pie had an extraordinary effect on me. I fell in love with it, and that first taste has stood the test of time, distance and every other sweet treat I have tried since.

Its plant-based version had everything I could wish for: a pecan and date crust, and a creamy filling made with avocado, coconut and lime. Yes, avocado in a dessert. And it is delicious.

I have always had a weakness for anything made with lime, but this pie offers much more than a simple citrus tang. Its texture, sweetness and balance make it utterly irresistible. Proof that a plant-based dessert can be wonderfully indulgent without trying to imitate its traditional counterpart at all costs.

A Family Affair

I grew up with a father who cooked healthily, using fresh produce bought at the market. No tinned food or frozen meals ever made it into our home. Throughout my childhood, I ate organic, locally sourced food, much of it from my own family’s produce. Habits like that leave their mark.

That culture of home cooking, good ingredients and respect for what we eat has stayed with me. I love the idea that food and drinks can nourish the body without sacrificing pleasure along the way.

It is also something I appreciate about certain places I discover while travelling. I have already written about Honest Greens, in Barcelona, in another Maison Chill article. These are the kinds of casual dining spots where you can eat well every day, enjoy good food and leave feeling satisfied, without having to choose between indulgence and balance. Quite the opposite.

Café Gratitude was one of those places I wanted to return to. For the food, of course, but also for its approach to cooking. And, in my case, for a pie that would soon give me another reason to keep the experience alive once I was back in France.

Love Is Served: Bringing a Taste of Los Angeles Home

As often happens after a trip, some things eventually fade. Others stay with you, sometimes quite literally on your palate. This Key Lime Pie belonged firmly in the second category.

I started looking for their cookbook and came across Love Is Served: Inspired Plant-Based Recipes from Southern California, by Café Gratitude and Seizan Dreux Ellis. I found it online and ordered it from the United States. What a joy to discover that my favourite pie had its own recipe in a book I could finally have in my own kitchen!

It is called “I Am Awakening”. A rather fitting name, really.

A little historical aside for fellow dessert lovers: traditional Key Lime Pie did not originate in California, but in the Florida Keys, off the southern coast of Florida. It is believed to have appeared in Key West in the late nineteenth century, although its exact origins remain disputed. The classic filling combines sweetened condensed milk, egg yolks and Key lime juice, all set in a biscuit crust. And unlike some versions you see today, the filling is naturally pale yellow, not bright green. Since 2006, Key Lime Pie has even been the official state pie of Florida.

I now had the recipe in my hands. All that remained was to put it to the test in France.

I took the opportunity to make it for a dinner at friends’ house and brought it along for dessert. They loved it. I was delighted: I could finally share this Californian discovery with them without having to book a flight to enjoy it again.

Like Biting into a Dream

In the summer of 2026, back in Los Angeles, I naturally returned to Café Gratitude. There was no way I was going to miss it. I ordered the Key Lime Pie and, from the very first bite, rediscovered exactly what had won me over nine years earlier.

It was like biting into a dream: incredible sweetness, remarkable finesse and a delicacy that takes nothing away from its indulgence. Even though I knew the recipe and had made it myself, tasting it again at Café Gratitude felt special.

Some dishes delight us in the moment and are then forgotten. Others follow us long after a trip, find their way into our kitchens and eventually become part of our own stories.

This Key Lime Pie has become one of those memories we can recreate at home, while still enjoying the pleasure of tasting the original.

And if I return to Café Gratitude, you already know what I will be ordering for dessert.

---

I often wonder why certain places stay with us long after a trip is over.

Not necessarily the most beautiful ones.

Not the most famous.

Not even the most spectacular.

Just the places that come back to mind for no particular reason, months later.

In Barcelona, for me, that place is Honest Greens.

A healthy restaurant chain that doesn’t look like much at first glance, yet serves food that is far better than you might expect.

The first time I walked in, it was for a juice.

A quick break between two walks around the city.

A convenient address just a few minutes from our Airbnb.

Not the kind of place you circle on a map weeks before your trip.

Not the restaurant everyone talks about.

Not the one you book a month in advance.

And yet, years later, I still go back whenever I’m in Barcelona and often find myself recommending it to friends planning a trip there.

The Dish I Didn’t Expect

During one of those lunches, I ordered a cold soup.

I was expecting gazpacho.

Barcelona in summer, tomatoes everywhere—it seemed like the obvious choice.

Instead, I was served an ajo blanco.

An Andalusian recipe made with almonds, olive oil and bread, often described as the ancestor of gazpacho.

Honest Greens’ version arrives in a large white bowl.

At the centre is a silky, velvety soup.

On top: thin slices of heirloom tomatoes, wedges of white peach, black grapes, a few young shoots and a generous drizzle of olive oil.

It’s the kind of dish that immediately catches your eye.

Simple.

Colourful.

Perfectly summery.

Then comes the first spoonful.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

The Elegance of Simplicity

We often associate great cooking with complexity.

Technique.

Layers.

Sophistication.

And yet, the dishes I remember most are rarely the most complicated ones.

This ajo blanco is a perfect example.

The creamy sweetness of almonds.

The freshness of tomatoes.

The delicate perfume of peach.

The roundness of olive oil.

Nothing feels excessive.

Nothing tries too hard.

Every ingredient simply seems to be exactly where it belongs.

And perhaps that’s what makes this dish so memorable.

Why Honest Greens Works So Well

Honest Greens perfectly understands the codes of its time.

Open kitchens.

Teams that look like a mix of young chefs and baristas.

Large wooden tables.

Plants everywhere.

Colourful plates.

Everything reflects a contemporary vision of dining: relaxed, aesthetic and product-driven.

At any given hour, you’ll find students, creatives working on laptops, local families and travellers passing through.

The place feels alive.

Energetic.

Very Barcelona, in the best possible way.

But unlike many places that rely primarily on image, the food truly delivers on the promise.

The vegetables taste like vegetables.

The juices are genuinely fresh.

The portions are generous.

And the dishes make you want to order them again.

And then again.

The design draws you in.

The food brings you back.

The Address I Always Recommend

Barcelona is full of more ambitious restaurants.

More exclusive tables.

More spectacular dining experiences.

And yet, whenever friends ask me where to have lunch between visits, Honest Greens almost always makes my list.

For the juices.

For the generous plates.

For the way it makes healthy food genuinely desirable.

And for this ajo blanco with heirloom tomatoes and peaches, which I still make at home long after returning.

I walked in for a juice.

I still go back for the soup.