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Pierre Hermé Macarons


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

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