Ever since I saw pictures of French Macaron on flickr I have been desirous of getting my teeth around some.
The pretty colours and possibilities of flavours made them look so beautiful.
I made enquiries.
The North west of England is a Macaron desert.
Even Selfridges deli in Manchester were macaron-devoid.
I once had a glimpse of one on a tea stand in Betty's in Harrogate but alas...it was the last one.
I watched Lorraine Pascale pipe beautiful dollops onto silicone paper and knew it was beyond me. Piping bags turn themselves upside down in my hands. Its squirts out the top.
My dear friend Margaret bought me a recipe book for my birthday. I read it and my fears were confirmed.
We were due to go for a long weekend to Paris. At last, I thought..I will be able to hunt 'macaron' on their own ground.
But we had to cancel.
The pretty pretty discs of almondy deliciousness were never to be in my grasp.The perfect cake for a person who loves colour were just a dream. I especially wanted pistachio flavour.
On the journey to Dorset we stopped on the M6 at M&S simply food and there....could I believe my eyes?..there was a box of mini macaroons..and I seized them.
Oh they were pretty. Pink, brown and cream. (No pistachio sadly)
By the time we got to the M5 I was feeling sick. Stuffed. But....
WHAT A DISAPPOINTMENT.
I had eaten the vanilla ones..quite nice . Then I had a chocolate one...bleurrgh. The raspberry ones Yuk.
I am released.
I don't really like macaroons.
Just because a cake looks pretty doesn't mean it tastes good.
Look at the humble Eccles cake.
An underwhelming blob of brown pastry.
Packed full of the utmost deliciousness thats hard to beat.
And they sell them at the Village store.
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