One of the things about living in a city like Paris is that you spend a
lot of time – well, dealing with life. Bills to pay
Speed Dating, paperwork to do,
typos to avoid, stolen bikes to replace, smokers to dodge
Flower shopon sidewalks
waving lit cigarettes (I got nailed the other day – ouch!), or buying a
pair of shoes, can easily take up much – or all – of your days. It’s
too-easy to get wrapped up in all that minutiae and let all the things
you love to do get overwhelmed by the other things that tend to take
over, if you let them
low interest personal loan.
I’ve let them and decided to do a little turn-around by
cube organizersrevisiting the
places and eating the things that I love in Paris. It’s easy to forget
the pockets of wonderfulness that people see when they come here for a
week – the parks, the boulevards
SKI TRIP, the chocolate shops, and just taking a
stroll and getting some air (in between all the sidewalk maneuvering) and
take in the city.
Macarons aren’t new. Macarons gerbet, or filled macarons are distinctly
Parisian and have been around for about 150 years. True, they are
available elsewhere nowadays. But like a New York or Montreal bagel, or
Chicago deep-dish pizza, certain foods get designated with an appellation
because they are so closely associated with where they were first made.
(Bagels and pizza are from neither of those places mentioned, originally.
And macarons, which were originally from Italy
craniosacral massage, then came to France and
are usually available as simple, crispy cookies made with egg whites,
sugar and almonds.) But that’s getting back into minutiae, a word I had
to look up the precise spelling for, twice (more minutiae!) and I’m more
interested in tasting pastries. So I took a stroll over to the relatively
new Pierre Hermé macaron boutique in the Marais.
Macarons kind of had their day in the soleil. Everyone wanted to either
make them, or come to Paris and sample them. For a while, almost every
day a question or two would land in my Inbox from people who were making
macarons, wondering why their macarons didn’t have the ruffled “feet”,
or why their tops cracked – and could I diagnose them? Interviewers were
astonished when they’d ask me what flavors of macarons Parisians made at
home, and I responded that I couldn’t think of anyone that made macarons
in Paris because no one had the space for a baking sheet on their kitchen
counter. And honestly, it’s easier for people to get them at their local
pastry shop or bakery.
PR
