The Verb is "Macaroner"

Thanks to EDUCO, I got another shot in a French kitchen, this time, making macaroons.

Unlike the last cooking class, which was held in a private apartment, this one was professionally-run, in a patisserie, which probably explains why it was so absolutely mediocre. Not only was almost everything measured and mixed for us in advance, but the instructor was constantly switching to English to explain even the most basic concepts (rather than just words like tamiser, "to sift"). There were supposed to be 10 of us, but 11 showed up, so I ended up being paired with two very stupid, very hedonistic girls, which was rather a disappointment.

That aside, I learned a little bit about French pastry-culture, including some cooking words involved in the making of macarons. For instance, one should blend the initial mixture of egg whites and white sugar until it forms a bec d'oiseau (bird's beak) on the end of the beater. Ordinary macarons are cookies, just like American macaroons, but Parisian macarons also contain a garniture (filling) inside of a sandwich of the two biscuits (cookies) which together form the coque (shell); the flaky edges are called the coloret (no translation, as far as I know, and I'm uncertain of the spelling). After the initial mixing, one begins the macaronage, ("macarooning"): I'm not kidding; to "macaroon" is a real word in the French language. Macaronage consists of quickly and repetitively beating and scraping the batter against the side of the bowl, with the help of a sort of flat flexible plastic scraper, in order to create a certain texture; when the batter descends in rubans (ribbons), you know that the batter is finished. After this, you pour the batter into a large bag with a douille (nozzle), and turn the bag over onto itself, forming a jupe (skirt). Using this, you dollop the batter into little macaroon-sized drops onto a layer of waxed paper affixed tightly to a baking sheet. One of the stranger processes follows this: the thorough beating of the baking sheet against the kitchen sheet, in order to égaliser (to level) the batter.

If you are a fancy pastry chef, then you have a special not-quite-oven, which will allow you to warm the macarons, and allow them to form a croûte (crust). Following this is a period in the real oven, at 100-120 degrees Centigrade (depending on the individual character of your oven. The macarons cooked, after a 10-minute cooling phase which I know well from home, they are ready to be removed from the waxed paper (otherwise, they will be torn apart). The macarons are paired, and then filled -- traditionally, macarons parisiens have a dollop of confiture de framboise (raspberry jam), surrounded by a periphery of cream; raspberries are nice and acidic, and therefore cut the sweetness of the very sugary cookies. Parisians have discovered all sorts of things to put into their macaroons, however, and ours included chocolate, and creams flavored with vanilla, pistachio, and speculoos, respectively. Just to get very decadent, you can also apply a metallic red powder to the exterior of the raspberry macaroons, just to give them that appetizing gleam that indicates freshness.

We ate a few of the macarons, but brought half-a-dozen to a dozen back to our residences (in my case, via the library). The pâtissiere told us to keep them in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours, in order to allow them to acquire a soft texture, and to lose their brittleness. My 11 macarons have been chilling (in every sense of the word) in my fridge for about 40 hours now, so I'm thinking of bringing them out to share with Jamie (and whoever else is in her room) this evening.

The pâtissiere told us that she'd send us all the recipe; when she has, I'll addend it to this post. If you're planning on living in the CJL this spring, you can probably count on my attempting to make these (kosher, of course), at least once. Maybe during finals week, when we'll need all the cookies we can get our paws on.

~JD

"Je commandai aux quatre secretaires d'Etat de ne plus rien signer du tout sans m'en parler... et qu'il ne se fit rien aux finances sans etre enrigistre dans un livre, qui me devait demeurer, avec un extrait fort abrege ou je pusse voir, a tous moments d'un coup d'oeil, l'etat des fonds et des depense faites ou a faire" [I ordered the four secretaries of state to no longer sign anything at all without speaking to of the matter... and that nothing be done in regard to the finances without it being registered in a book, which would stay with me, with a highly-abridged summary where I could see, at any moment with just a glance, the state of the funds, and of the expenditures made and yet to make] ~ Louis XIV, Memoires.