Crossing the San Francisco Bay Bridge for the first time, in a convertible with the top town, the scent was mesmerizing. “What is that smell,” I kept asking.

       “What smell?”

       “That smell, in the breeze. What is it? I know that smell.”

       Thank goodness I wasn’t driving, it was so distracting. Craning my neck out the passenger side window of the red Mustang convertible, hungry for more, my brain tried to connect identifiable memory with what my olfactory senses were inhaling, deeply. I knew that smell. It was so familiar. The synapse eluded me.

       The Bay Bridge is a long bridge. By the time we reached the end, my companion’s amusement at my inadvertent bloodhound imitation was waxing. As we approached terra firma, the scent surrounded us. My eyes closed, still searching memory banks.

       “What kind of tree is that?”  We were on solid ground now and huge, ginormous trees I had never seen before were breezing past us. Their perfume filled the air with subtle, earthy well-being.

       “Bay Leaf.”

       “That’s it! Bay leaf! We use it in beans and stews all the time. Holy moly! Those leaves are huge! No wonder Williams Sonoma was inspired to create such beautiful wreaths. They’re massive! Those are not the bay leaves we get at the supermarket. I never knew what they smelled like fresh.”

       “Mmmm.”

       Sitting back to relax against the convertible’s bucket seat, I closed my eyes again, allowing the scent to waft over me. When I opened my eyes, we were in wine country.

       Years later, reading David Lebovitz’ My Paris Kitchen: Recipes and Stories, I am once again mesmerized by the fragrance of bay leaf. Humble store-bought bay leaves are infused in the butter used to keep this pound cake moist. A few perfect leaves are buttered on one side and arranged on parchment paper to decorate the bottom of the loaf. Pound cake usually rises, though, and it would be a shame to level the top to serve it upside-down. Standing a leaf on its edge in the batter down the center identifies this heady beauty as something to talk about. Voila!

       It’s been 3 days since I baked what DL calls his gateau week-end.  I still smile when I bump into its subtle and mysterious fragrance.