Paris is...Macarons!

Ask many visitors to Paris to name one of their "absolutely must try" foods, and they will tell you macarons. The debate is endless over whose macaron is best--Ladurée, Jean-Paul Hévin, la Maison du Chocolat, even Angélina. Nothing frightens macaron lovers--not even Pierre Hermé's recent foray into foie gras macarons filled with chocolate ganache.

The perfect macaron is evenly round, with a slightly flattened dome. The outer surfaces are slightly shiny and have a flaky texture nearly like puff pastry. The bottom edge of each dome has a crispy, bubbly ridge. The inside of the dome is slightly chewy. And the whole thing is held together with a generous amount of dense, creamy filling. They can come in nearly any flavor combination imagineable, but chocolate is probably the most classic of the classic. Other favorites are pistachio, lemon, raspberry, rose and violet.

Last week, pâtisiers throughout France gave away free macarons to raise money to fight rare diseases. OurParis' very own Anne helped spread the word and created quite a stir on SlowTalk. A recipe was posted in French and then translated into English. A chorus of "oohs" and "aahs" went up. The recipe was dissected and discussed. Questions about ingredient sourcing were put forward and substitutions debated. The outcomes were hypothesized. And...nobody...not even Our Paris' own Anne...stepped forward to try the recipe!

So, what's a guy to do? There's now a small mound of homemade chocolate macarons with bitter chocolate and maple ganache "curing" in our fridge. Remember my description of the perfect macaron? These aren't perfect!! In fact, they're downright homely.

I'm a pretty good cook and the recipe looked relatively easy--not many ingredients (although a key ingredient is essentially unavailable in the U.S.), not many steps, and not much time.

The first challenge is dealing with the amandes en poudre problem. Available at the corner store in Paris, there's apparently not a single store in all the fifty United States that sells it. Trader Joe's has almond meal, King Arthur Flours makes toasted almond flour, but nobody has simple powdered almonds. You can order it online from L'Epicerie, but that's really not very helpful when you suddenly decide to whip up a batch of macarons.

So, the first thing is that you have to make your own almond flour from blanched, raw almonds. Just put them in a food processor or coffee grinder along with the sugar and grind with the on/off button until they're powdered. The hard part is that the almond powder can become almond paste in the blink of an eye. (And then you've got to think about making homemade marzipan....and that's a whole different blog.)

Sift together 275 grams of powdered sugar, 140 grams of almond flour, and 25 grams of unsweetened cocoa powder. Put aside. In an electric mixer, beat 4 egg whites at low speed until foamy. Increase the speed to moderately high and beat until stiff peaks form. Gently fold in the almond mixture until completely combined.

Line three baking sheets with parchment paper. Fill a pastry bag with the macaron batter and pipe rounds of batter onto the sheets. Let the macarons sit at room temperature for about 15 minutes. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit, 11-12 minutes, leaving the oven door slightly ajar.

Pour a little water between the parchment paper and the metal baking pan. The moisture will help the macarons release from the paper without tearing. Cool the macarons on the tray and then carefully transfer to a wire rack.

While the macarons are baking, bring 300 grams of heavy cream to a boil over moderate heat. Pour the cream over 325 grams of finely chopped chocolate, and stir with a silicone spoon until cooled to around 80 degrees. Stir in 75 grams of cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces. Stir until the butter is melted, and the mixture is shiny. Cover and refrigerate until thickened enough to spread.

Spread half the macarons with a coating of the ganache and place another macaron on top to make a sandwich. Refrigerate the macarons overnight to allow the flavors to meld.

Et voilà, you have macarons!

Here's what I learned:

1. Almond Flour--I tried making the almond flour in a food processor and in a coffee grinder. The coffee grinder worked much better, but because it holds such a small quantity, it would've taken forever to make enough for the recipe. After you've finished grinding the almonds, pass it though a fine sieve at least twice to remove any large bits. If they are left in, you will notice them in the texture of the baked macarons. I sifted twice, and should have done it again.
2. Egg Whites--At the very least, warm the egg whites to room temperature by leaving them on the counter for a few hours or placing them in a bowl nestled inside another bowl filled with warm water. Older eggs become fluffier when beaten. A little after-the-fact research suggests "aging" the egg whites in the refrigerator for two or three days after separating them from the yolks.
3. Beating the Meringue--Just like my mama taught me, egg whites always beat better if you add a pinch of salt at the very beginning. Some people suggest substituting powdered egg whites for a portion of the fresh egg whites. I've never used them, but they're standard in the pastry industry. The next time, I'll not mix all the powdered sugar with the almonds, and I'll beat in maybe a third of the sugar with the egg whites to help them become more firm.
4. Piping the Batter--Make your rounds about an inch in diameter. I traced circles using the foot of a champagne flute--about 2 in diameter. What I didn't realize is how much the batter would expand, both during the "resting" period before baking and during the baking, itself. I now have macarons roughly the size of a bun on a McDonald's hamburger--hardly the light little sweet snack.
5. Resting the Batter--The recipe says to let the batter sit for a few minutes. The point is to allow the raw batter to acquire a "skin" that will help them hold their shape during baking. This is essential to create the bubbly rim around the bottom edge of each dome. I think an hour or two would be better, and some others even suggest overnight (again, there's that problem of satisfying a last-minute macaron craving....)
6. Cooling the Macarons--The domes have to be completely cooled before you even think about removing them from the parchment. I'm an impatient cook and tried too early. That's why I could only photograph two macarons. The others are a bit unusual looking....
7. The Filling--Chocolate is chocolate. I added maple flavoring and used 71% bittersweet chocolate for my ganache. The bitterness of the chocolate plays against the maple sweetness for a very satisfying flavor.
8. The Filling Part II--Plan in advance for something to do with extra ganache. I didn't plan and now I have a bowl of chocolate-maple ganache sitting in the fridge. Every time I open the fridge, I reach in and grab a spoonful of ganache. This is not--I repeat--not a healthy eating habit!

And if you have to ask--yes, they are delicious. Yes, I will make them again. Yes, I'll try different flavor combinations. And yes, I'll still buy a couple made by someone who knows what they're doing the next time I'm in Paris!

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Son fils est mort pour la France, sa fille est morte par la France

I have often walked by many Paris mansions and wished, “If only I could go in and see what it is like inside,” but since most have been divided into apartments or are not open to the public, ce n'est pas possible. There is, however, one that you can be visited--the Musée Nissim de Camondo, an unbelievably spectacular private hotel at 63, rue de Monceau.

So, when the Louvre is filled to the seams with people, or the Musée d’Orsay is so crowded you can only see the backs of the three rows of people in front of you, why not visit a lesser known museum--the Camondo? There you will find so much harmony and unity wrapped up together in one place, that it will call you back time and again.
Moise de Camondo was from an old Sephardic Jewish family who founded one of the most important banks of the Ottoman Empire. Italian King Victor-Emmanuel II, in appreciation for the Camondos’ financial support, ennobled them in 1867. At the end of the Second Empire, the family decided to expand their banking business into France. It was at this time that the family acquired two properties on rue de Monceau in the 8ème arrondissement. Moise de Camondo and his cousin Isaac both become serious collectors. Isaac’s large collection of Impressionist paintings are now mostly in the Musée d’Orsay and Moise's incredible XVIII century collection is in the private hotel named after his son Nissim. After Nissim’s tragic death during combat in WWI, Moise decided to give his mansion and collections to France in his son’s memory.

Passionate for the XVII century, Moise admired the elegance that started at the end of the reign of Louis XV and flourished under Louis XVI to become the summit of neo-classicism. He befriended Carle Dreyfus, the Louvre conservator, and Louis Metmann from the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. Taking their advice to heart, Moise started his personal collection . After Moise demolished the rue de Monceau mansion and, in 1911, rebuilt a private hotel modeled after the Petit Trianon, with rooms especially made to showcase his collections.

Moise also insisted on the most modern comforts of his time, as the kitchen and bathrooms illustrate today. With patience, persistence and a great deal of money, he was able to reunite furniture suites and paired objects that time had separated centuries earlier.

The entire collection is brilliant. All of the French XVII century objects are woven in history—tables and vases from Marie Antoinette, and carpets from Versailles. It is not each object, but the whole incredible ensemble, that makes the collection harmonious and magical. The Aubusson tapestries illustrating La Fontaine fables, the fabulous Sèvres Buffon service with each piece decorated with a different bird, and the bronze and the silver from Russian Empress Catherine II, the Jacob furniture--every piece is the best example of its time.

One gets the feeling, going from one room to another, that time stopped one day in 1931 just before Moise donated his collection to France. You really feel more like a guest of the Camondos, almost expecting Marcel Proust, a regular visitor, to be sitting next to you at diner. Since few objects are under glass, one can get an incredibly close up view.

Such beauty, time and effort all ended in tragedy. The Camondos had faith that the French government would protect them from the Nazis since their son had fought for France in the First World War and the family had donated their valuable collection to the state. But in the end, the French Vichy government had them arrested and deported to Dracy and then to their deaths in Auschwitz. Moise's daughter Béatrice, her husband and their two children were all gassed.

As Pierre Assouline wrote about Moise de Camondo:

His son died for France and his daughter was kill by her.
Son fils est
mort pour la France, sa fille est morte par la France .

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Day Trippin' - Sceaux what?

Raising kids in a city is simply grand, but every now and then we need to get out of town for a bit of fresh air, a break from the noise and frenzy of it all and a big helping of green.

One of our favorite day trips is to the Parc de Sceaux. The Chateau de Sceaux was re-built for Colbert, who took over the role of Finance Minister to King Louis XIV after Fouquet was found to be a bit too ambitious. As befitted his role, Colbert hired the best : the Perrault brothers, Le Brun, Mansart and of course, André Le Nôtre for the gardens. Much, but not all, of the chateau was destroyed during the Revolution. Renovations were carried out in the 19th century and the gardens in particular were restored to their original glory.

The Parc is about half an hour from the city and a ten minute walk from Parc de Sceaux stop of RER B. As you exit, you will go up a little street, jog right and then cross the street to your left and uphill. Cross the large intersection and to your right you will see a pedestrian street. This is the commercial area of the town of Sceaux, with a handful of little shops, some gourmet food purveyors and the boutique of the famous chocolatier, Patrick Roger. Saturday and Wednesday are market days, so be sure to follow the crowds to your left, passing the Parish church along the way, and fill up for a picnic in the Parc. If you are a true gourmand, remember to stop at L'Etoile du Berger for some extraordinary breads and truly remarkable fruit tarts.

The Parc de Sceaux is one of my favorite formal gardens in the entire country. The trees are cropped into inverted cones and soaring cubes, the canals form long algae-rich rectangles, with fountain dots through out: a living Cubist masterpiece in green. And it is one of the most entertaining... in a very un French-like manner, you are allowed on the grass at Sceaux! Locals come out to fish, bike, play frisbee, and picnic. On Saturdays the lawn in front of the chateau is a favorite spot for the African community to photograph wedding parties, the women in their ornate hats, bright colors and often chanting traditional songs. There are also a public swimming pool, tennis courts, a playground and wide allées to stroll.

The chateau itself is now a regional museum. Visits are free and the collection is small, so it is worth checking out, if nothing else for a quick visit to the restrooms, should the need arise. Next to the chateau is a buvette for refreshments. If you like adding culture to your visit, there is a summer classical music festival at the Orangerie and an outdoor Opera with the chateau as a fantastical backdrop. Magic all around.

Useful links : http://festival.orangerie.free.fr/
http://parc-de-sceaux.9online.fr/

photo : I love the baroque fountains in the Jardin du Petit Chateau

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"I went to the Market, mon p'tit panier sous le bras..."

Believe it or not, the words above are from a famous French-Canadian song, by Gilles Vigneault.If you want to read the whole song, which is quite funny (and bilingual), read here.

So, like the song says, I went to the market today. Actually, I go there twice a week, on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I am such a regular that the standkeepers call me by my name. They are so kind. I love to chat with them. They always have a kind word, and ask news about my family, beg me to tell about my latest vacation in detail (and they don't even find it boring !!), "forget" to add some vegetables on my total bill, and so on. Through the years, I have learned to discern which one is the best for fresh herbs, which has the tastiest fruits, etc.

So, I always have the same itinerary inside this charming covered market. First, my "fresh herbs and vegetables" favorites--a father and his young adult son, who are close to the main entrance. They have taught me many things about their produce--which kind of potatoes are best for gratins (of course not the same as for a puree), the different names of salad greenss, "Oh, and don't buy thoses artichokes, Anne, they are not very good"!

Then the fruits counter at the very bottom of the market--a very chic couple in their 50's. They are knowledgeable travellers and we often chat about this shared passion. Then, I start to get closer to the exit by visiting the fish stand. I have tasted them all; I am a fish addict! My favorites are cod and coley fillets. I also enjoy red mullet, but removing their bones can be a real pain.
I notice that many tourists are curious about seasonal products in France. So, what did I buy today? I bought cilantro and flat-leaf parsley, scallions, Charlotte potatoes, green asparagus, rougette salad greens, fresh walnuts and green tomatoes from Sicily. As for fruits: "golden" apples, "pink lady" apples, grapes, "conference" pears, and clementines.

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You Learn Something New Every Day

No matter what my destination in Paris, I seem never to get there without passing through the Métro station at place de la Concorde. Aside from making fun of the sing-song woman's voice trilling "Attention à la marche en déscendant du train," my favorite activity while held in captivity at M° Concorde is trying to pick out words or phrases from the millions of tiles, each printed with a letter of the alphabet, that cover every square millimetre of the tunnel.

Thanks to my friend, and fellow Our Paris blogger, Luc, I now know what it is that I'm supposed to be reading, but have never been able to make out. The letter tiles spell out the text of la Déclaration des droits de l'Homme et du citoyen--the French constitution adopted by the Assemblée Nationale in 1789.

It is the brainchild of artist, architect, and urban planner Françoise Schein. She states, "I discovered how human rights principles were a geological bed on which societies had transformed into permanent, physical democracies: that is, the conception, expression and recognition of human rights was an integral component in defining the physical form that cities, societies, and communities ultimately took. By inscribing this and other fundamental expressions of the rights of man in artworks throughout the world, we leave behind indelible reminders to all who see them."

Mme Schein's work now appears in cities throughout Europe, as well as in the Americas, the Middle East and Asia. She partners with local non-profit organizations and volunteers to develop site-specific projects that relate to the historic and ongoing struggle for human rights around the globe. In some sites, local women have learned to produce and handpaint tiles--skills that have resulted in ongoing economic opportunities for women in fragile societies. In Afghanistan, ceramic craftsmen who only recently had few opportunities for creativity, are today working on a tile project that expresses their hope for the future.

So, the next time you're in Paris and stopped at M° Concorde, take a moment to ponder the beliefs inscribed on the walls. Take a moment to thank those who so bravely voiced those ideas more than 200 years ago...and take a moment to thank Françoise Schein who has found a way to daily remind us all of their signifance.

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Ze Frenchie???

I was born French. It is by some odd fluke of nature that this birth took place in California of two completely American parents. By the time I was nine years old, my mother had accepted the fact that I would eventually leave her to make my way in Paris. My father did everything to squash my plans and was thrilled when eventually I fell in love with a Canadian. Little did he know, MY Candian has a French passport. It took some cajoling and 15 years of marriage, but February 2002 we moved here. For good.
Within two years I had a French passport of my own, which was no small feat, as the (dis-)functionnaire assigned to my file threw every road block possible along my way.

I live here now, in the bobo hq of the 7th arrondisement. One child goes to the local public school and I begin most of my mornings at a cafe with other parents from the 'hood. Building friendships, decoding cultural differences, establishing local haunts, and finding enough ethnic cuisine for a bit of spice have been the challenges of the past four years. That, and writing about this enchanted city for internet content providers and in the form of Ready, Set, Go, a Kids guide to Paris (yet to be published).

Travel and museums are my two greatest passions, so Paris is the perfect base for me as I haunt galleries, follow world class shows across Europe and get involved in the local art scene.

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My love of Paris

Even before my birth, I was in love with Paris. My French–Canadian mother sang of Paris’ parks, people and, of course, Madame la Tour Eiffel while getting my nursery ready. She believed that if something came from France it had some kind of divine quality. As a good mama’s boy it did rub off on me. I cannot tell if my affair with Paname starting with a book, a film or a song, but after going there numerous times one thing is sure--there will not be an end to it.

On my first day in Paris, in 1980, I immediately felt at ease. After two days, I understood why I had felt like a fish out of water in my little bilingual Canadian capital! Finally, everything made sense. Everything was natural and I was totally content. My first evening in le Marais (the gay village was just starting back then) I found a piano bar called Le Piano Zinc on rue des Blancs-Manteaux. After a drink, I followed the sound of a group of gentlemen singing and as I entered the room, it was as if they had been waiting for me. Suddenly, thirty fellows started singing my mother’s favorite song, “Sur les quais du vieux Paris”.

I was home. Literally, home.

Everyone has his own appreciation of Paris, and with each visit our comprehension and our experiences grow. We return to favorite places but always discover something new. But what is this fascination? The creativity of the Parisians? The majestic grandeur of the architecture? The energy and dynamism of New York City, but with a more human scale? The famous café culture? The art de vivre and all its attention to detail? People living in the present instead of running for what is next?

As far as I am concerned, the difficulty of pinning the reasons down is, itself, one of the fascinations. So, that is why I keep on returning, returning and returning....

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