I can't quite remember how I came across my first macaron. Maybe it was in Paris (spiritual home of said macarons), or on TV. Who knows? Either way, they appeared in my life and I thought, hey, I want to have a go at those. Those delicately coloured, perfectly circular morsals of deliciousness. How hard can they be? The trouble with me is, I like a challenge.
Since then, whenever 'then' was, I've made a fair few macarons. My bin has been the lucky recipient of many of my attempts. Family and friends have lucked out with the rest. Macarons are tricky. They are temperamental. They need just the right amount of everything at the right time. They really don't like it if this doesn't happen. They stamp their feet, or refuse to produce one. They spread out flat like biscuits or simply latch onto their place on the parchment and refuse to budge. I empathise with them far too much!
To me, they capture elegance and sophistication of bygone eras all in a sweet little mouthful and I like that. In the world we live in, a bit of elegance and sophistication is a welcome change. Originating in Italy and France and being swept up and perfected in Paris does that to a confection, I suppose.
This blog is about my hit and miss macaron escapades. Stick around, it might be fun.
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