Sunday, May 03, 2009

I say Macaron, you say Macaroon

As I was preparing for my trip last year to Paris, a friend alerted me to the sumptuous macarons at the French pastry retailer Laduree, raving about the smooth, creamy fillings of said confections. For some nebulous reason, I absentmindedly thought she was referring to coconut macaroons, which are delicious and which I heartily consumed in the past, and thus although I wandered along the Champs Elysees I neglected to make a visit to Laduree's pastry shop. Six months after returning from Paris, by happenstance I read a blurb about the newly-opened Macaron Cafe serving those tiny delicacies did my mind wander back to that conversation, and I realized my colossal blunder and vowed to rectify this error.

Located in a somewhat nondescript part of Midtown, Macaron Cafe is pretty easy to miss unless you are looking for it, as I was. Once you step inside, however, the vibrant colors of the paintings and inviting couches entice you to stay, relax, have a nice cup of tea accompanied by whatelse? - the lovely macarons, of course - which come in sixteen different flavors. Enthralled at the choices, I stood in front of the glass counter, pondering which varieties to sample, debating inside my head, "I want this. No, I'll try that one instead", all the while conscious of the French female attendant's amused gaze upon me. Couldn't help wondering if she thought I'd say "Give me one of each (all sixteen)". Finally I selected the pistachio and tiramisu, and savored each tender, chewy bite. Sweet, yet not cloying. Why, oh why, are they so small???

If I hadn't been in a rush to get to an appointment, doubtless I would've stayed and noshed on more macarons (not good for someone trying to shed pounds), so I settled for buying a twelve-pack box as a present to my friend. So far it sits inside my refrigerator, untouched. Hopefully, midnight cravings won't hijack the macarons from their intended receipient. As for Laduree, I heard spring time is lovely in Paris...

Macaron Cafe on Urbanspoon