I just had the strongest craving for French Macarons the other day. I want to break an exquisite set of fine bone China whenever I think of the 10 pieces of Laduree macarons that I left behind in the farthest corner of my friends’ London flat. I can only hope that they found the box in time… le sigh.
It’s a tad too grotesque for someone from the Third World to complain about matters the 16th Century’s French
brats elites whined about, but seriously… really… don’t they just make you a little weak on the knees?
Gooey, chewy cookie on the outside… melted meringue concoction in the inside… tell me, why can’t one just turn Macaron Antoinette for a day? I’ve had them from all over town- Gobi, Bakerzin, Canele, etc. And I know now that they can be painfully sweet (believe one who has had five in succession- not the smartest idea), so I’ve been trying to regulate the macaron madness. But now, I yearn.
If you’re into baking and such, here’s a neat entry from Cake Journal on how to make French Macarons! If you’ve successfully done so, please please please remember how to find me.
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