(my macaroon in the rustic style)
There’s very little that offends me. If you don’t like something I make, it may hurt my feelings but that’s life. It’s, as the German’s would say, “geschmacksache.” It’s the stuff of taste. I for one will only eat a BLT accompanied with the thinnest varietal of crappy white bread. God knows I appreciate a luscious artisinal loaf but the “B” stands for bacon. Not bread. So I appreciate your offer to make me a BLT on crusty fineness but it will be lost on me. It’s geschmacksache, afterall.
But there’s a difference between taste preference and ignorance. To wit, the knuckleheads who ordered my French macaroons online and wrote back to say that they were not what they expected. That they had anticipated receiving Parisian macaroons in the vein of Laduree or Pierre Herme. Which in and of itself is fine despite the fact that they had heard about my little treats from watching me make them on Food Television wherein I spoke of the recipe and its origins. The camera crew even did a few glamour shots of my French macaroons, gauzy close-ups and all. So they really couldn’t say they weren’t anticipating receiving the very thing they saw on television.
So here’s what got my apron in a twist. The gentleman (and I use the word loosely and generously), went on to say that they would order from me if I started to make macaroons as they do in France.
Ahem.
Ignorant little shit.
(my macaroon in the Parisian style)
The formidable Dorie Greenspan does a bang up job of describing the age-old French dust up over which kind of “macaron” is best, that of the countryside or that of Paris. Because there two kinds. One that hails from the ancient recipe of the Macaron Sisters, a delicacy that is more rustic in appearance and texture. It isn’t sandwiched with ganache or butter cream and isn’t dyed with brilliant hues, as are the Parisian macarons. So there are two kinds. Made in France. I make one kind and sell it online. I make the other kind and sell it in the shop.
I gave the guy his money back because I really didn’t want to go into it with him. OK, I did write a lengthy dissertation on French macaron but I still gave him his money back.
So what’s the point of this little diatribe. No point really. Just an example of how a little knowledge can be a bad thing . And can really piss off a baker.
6 comments:
Good for you! The other day I hinted about your book. The only thing is that I was actually hoping you had considered writing a book since I love your writing style and content. I didn't realize you were indeed writing a book. In any case, I am thrilled you are publishing a book!!! I shall buy your book, and read it cover to cover. Congratulations Gesine, on all of your success. You deserve it. - A fan!
Am I wrong in that the Laduree and Herme variety is known as a macaron whereas yours is a macaroon? Does an "o" make the difference? But having tried the Laduree and Herme variety and yours...I'm sorry, no contest. Yours wins hands down. I know, because I singlehandedly ate all three tins you sent me two weeks ago. :-)
In France, it's all macaron all the time no matter the appearance. I'm prejudiced against the Parisians because they are terribly sweet. But here's the secret, most are made with a powder mix. It's awful. You can buy bulk macaron powder mixes from pastry retailers, Sysco does patisserie. Just awful. But when you bother to make the Parisians traditionally, they have the beautiful skirt and shiny appearance but the taste is there as well. It's just tricky to master the technique. But once you do, it's magic.
I am no expert on what the differences are, but Mamaw gave me some of your macaroon's for Christmas and they were delish!
OK. I was a regular at Gesine in Montpelier, and I have to pronounce loudly! how insanely delicious these macaroons are. The day they showed up I was hooked to try one by their appearance (I'm usually just a coffee girl) but after taking my first bite - oh, what sensory palate pleasing glory!- I immediately bought 2 more to bring home to my husband, which I then hid and never told him about because I snarfed them down without control after being home with them for only minutes. Please keep them coming!
That guy is just a windy Bozo.
I'm missing Vermont and the daily grind of macaroon making. I never thought I'd say that. I knew I'd miss Vermont. And baking, I daydream baking. But I thought I'd easily walk away from the enslavement of those tiny little almond buggers. "Why aren't there macaroooons today? How could you sell out already?" Yeegads! This annoyed me. "I'm not a machine, people! Do I not have creative needs? Do I not need sleep?" What a whiner I was. Because I miss it and I'm not finding a way to start up again soon enough.
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