This Wednesday's snapshot is a prelude to a series: the upcoming "two nights in Paris" series and the only thing pornographic about it will be the shots of food. For example, these French macarons. No, it is not a mound of coconut. Mais nononononon. A French macaron is a deliciously flavored and often vibrantly colored almond meringue or two held together by a ganache of sorts - a buttercream, jam, salted caramel. This meringue sandwich which is now what we think of when we hear, "French macaron", was apparently invented by Pierre Desfontaines Ladurée, the man from which the most famous macaron shop in all of Paris take its name. In all honesty, we stumbled upon Ladurée by accident, a blessed, holy accident. Noses pressed to the glass, we steamed up the display case before finally joining the line inside and filling a gorgeously decorated little bag with one praliné, one café, one rose hip, one fig and date, and one porneuse (as my brother-in-law would say) caramel au sel du beurre. We died. On the spot. And resurrected to return to Ladurée an hour later for more.
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