San Francisco Chronicle
THE ROVING FEAST
One good bite deserves another
Ooh, la la! A girl can't say 'Non' to the pastries of Paris
Marlena Spieler Wednesday, December 10, 2003


I was walking down the ever-so-evocative streets of Paris, down rue St.
Honoré, past the Opera and Madeleine, heading toward Ladurée, that
exquisite jewel box of a pastry shop. I had an appointment with a
macaroon and was busy mulling over exactly which flavor I was going to
choose. Chocolate and pistachio were two current favorites; I was half
thinking of lemon or raspberry. My mind was absorbed with this important
decision.

First of all, I should take a moment to explain that macaroon doesn't
refer to the heavy-ish coconutty things we Americans usually think of as
macaroons. A French macaroon, or macaron, is a light-as-air almost
meringue-y almond cookie, or rather two of these light and flavorful
cookies sandwiching a filling: creamy chocolate ganache for the
chocolate macaroons, buttery caramel for the hazelnut ones, pistachio
cream for the pistachio macaroons and tangy raspberry preserves for the
raspberry meringues. A delicacy like this is worth being obsessed over.

As I turned the corner I spied a large group of people gathered around
the window in front of Ladurée. There were perhaps six or eight Japanese
girls -- maybe 18 or 19 years old -- standing in front of the pastry
shop window. They were crying.

An equal number of French adults stood by: women and men, busy raising
their shoulders and looking perplexed, shrugging and pouting, giving
that particular Gallic downturn of the mouth reflecting an effort to
comfort, but helpless nonetheless. No one seemed to have any idea why
the girls were crying. Clearly, the French did not understand Japanese,
and neither did the Japanese understand French.

I decided to wade in with good ole' all-purpose English.

"Why," I asked one of the girls, "are you crying?" A sea of gentle sobs
was the only reply. The girls had macaroon crumbs on their faces and
didn't look sad at all, they were simply overcome with emotion.

"Ha-ppy," said the first girl. "Ha-ppy," said the second, and the rest
joined in, heads bobbing up and down, "Ha-ppy!" they all chimed in. They
were crying because they were happy.

Well, you know, I understand. There we were, on a beautiful street in
Paris, the musical sound of the French language in our ears, surrounded
by chic women walking little dogs, shop windows filled with fabulous
goods arranged in a stunningly artistic manner ... not to mention those
macaroons. Well, who wouldn't cry?

I explained this to the French group and we all smiled, everyone smiled.
Then the girls dried their eyes and the French returned to their shops
and places of business, whatever they were doing when they got
distracted. I proceeded into Ladurée and bought three macaroons. One was
for my husband, who was back in London. I bought him chocolate. The
other was for my radio co-host, also in London. I bought her pistachio.
The third I bought for myself; a raspberry macaroon. I ate it
immediately.

That night, while packing my suitcase, I peered into the macaroon bag.
The chocolate macaroon was slightly damaged, a few crumbs had fallen
from it. I tidied it up by eating the crumbs. And those crumbs were
good, they were sooooo good. I thought to myself, "You know, Alan
doesn't know I bought him a macaroon, and what he doesn't know won't
hurt him."

And there, huddled under the covers at midnight in that little hotel
room in the shadow of the Gare du Nord, I ate the chocolate macaroon ...
and felt only the tiniest twinge of guilt.

Early the next day, I hopped onto Eurostar. I didn't have time for
breakfast, though I did eat a little bread and salame about halfway
through the trip. By the time midday had passed, I was thinking about
that pistachio macaroon. I didn't think for long. My co-host didn't
expect it, I kept telling myself.

So I opened the macaroon bag and inhaled the lovely, nutty aroma. A few
minutes later, there wasn't even a pale-green crumb left. It was
delicious.

Later that day, I rolled into the radio station and the first words out
of my co-host's mouth were, "What did you bring me?"

I was chagrined. I was mortified. I couldn't help being honest. I
blurted out the truth, "I ate your macaroon and what's worse, I ate my
husband's, too."

My co-host promptly broadcast this information to all of London. And
when I arrived home from the radio station, my husband greeted me with a
nice cup of tea.

"The only thing that would make it better,'' he added with a chuckle,
"is a nice chocolate macaroon."

Pierre Herme, a fourth-generation French pastry chef, was only 24 when
he took over the pastry kitchens of Fauchon in Paris. From there, he
went to Ladurée to direct the opening of its new restaurant on the
Champs-Elysees. He was named France's pastry chef of the year in 1997.
These macaroons are at their best when eaten within a day.

@ @ @ @ @
Pierre Herme's Chocolate Macaroons With Chocolate Filling

Chocolate Filling
3/4 cup whole milk
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
8 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
Macaroons
1 (1-pound) box powdered sugar
2 cups whole blanched almonds
6 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
6 large egg whites

To prepare the filling: Bring the milk and butter to a simmer in a heavy
medium-sized saucepan. Remove from heat, then add the chocolate.

Whisk the mixture until the chocolate melts and is smooth, then transfer
it to a small bowl and set aside to cool. When cool, cover and
refrigerate until thick and cold, at least 1 day.

May be refrigerated for up to 3 days.

To prepare the macaroons: Preheat the oven to 400°. Line 2 large baking
sheets with parchment paper.

Blend the powdered sugar and almonds in a food processor until the nuts
are ground to powder, scraping the sides of the bowl often. It should
take about 8 minutes. Add the cocoa and blend for about 1 minute longer.

Using a whisk or electric beater, beat the egg whites in a large bowl
until they are stiff but not dry. Fold in the nut mixture in 4
additions, until it forms a thick batter.

Spoon half of the batter into a pastry bag fitted with a 1/2-inch plain
round tip.

Pipe the batter onto each paper-lined baking sheet in 12 walnut-sized
mounds, spacing the mounds apart slightly, as they will spread a little
as they bake.

Bake the cookies, 1 sheet at a time, for about 11 minutes, or until they
are firm to the touch in the center and dry and cracked on top.

Slide the parchment paper with the cookies onto a work surface to cool.

Repeat with the remaining batter, cooling the cookies completely and
lining the baking sheets with new paper each time.

To assemble: Arrange a macaroon flat (bottom) side up on a work surface.

Drop about 1 tablespoon of filling onto each cookie, then top with a
second cookie flat (bottom) side down (facing and pressing against the
filling).

Repeat with remaining macaroons and filling. Arrange on a platter, cover
and refrigerate for at least 2 hours.

Serve cold.

Yields 24 sandwich cookies

PER COOKIE: 225 calories, 4 g protein, 28 g carbohydrate, 11 g fat (3 g
saturated), 8 mg cholesterol, 21 mg sodium, 2 g fiber.
_____






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