Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Macaron Making

I've had Jill Colonna's Mad about Macarons on my shelf for a couple of years now, ever since it was given to me as a present, but despite the fact that she describes the process in a simple, step-by-step manner that should be possible to follow even for a slapdash, go-with-the-feeling type of cook like me, I've never quite dared to go beyond looking at the pretty pictures and enjoying the cheerful, chatty style of her text.

Last weekend, however, I had my pre-wedding girls' get together* (it was going to be a non-gender-specific pre-wedding party, but the boys chickened out) and learning to make macarons seemed like the perfect activity to help my friends get to know each other on a Saturday afternoon in Paris.

We booked a class through a company whose name I'm not going to mention on here because, while they weren't bad enough for public naming and shaming, they turned out not to be exactly a delight to do business with either, and there were some issues with the reservation process. The lesson itself, however, was fine and a good balance of fun and learning.

We turned down a glass of champagne when we arrived, preferring to keep our wits sharp, which turned out to be a good idea (especially as some of us had already had some bubbly earlier in the afternoon ), so it was straight down to work. We started by making three different kinds of filling, all of which required careful weighing, heating and mixing. It was the first, and perhaps the last, time in my life that I had ever weighed egg to the nearest gram.

After that, we had to make the biscuit mix. There are two ways of doing this: the Italian and the French. With the French method, you mix all the ingredients directly, while the Italian method involves heating the sugar to a perfect 118° (we had little thermometers with alarms which went off when it was ready) and apparently gives a crispier meringue. Piping the mixture made me feel as uncoordinated as trying to follow a complicated zumba choreography, but luckily our batter had a good enough consistency for us not to be left with too many misshapes and peaks, which, this not being a hen party, we were all too polite to describe as what they obviously resembled:





After two and a half hours of hard work, our creations were finally complete and ready to be tasted. At this point we decided it was definitely time for a little champagne reward. We were really quite proud of the results, but when we offered some to our teacher, who had been very encouraging all afternoon, she described them only as "edible", in true Parisian style. As predicted, they improved after spending the night in the fridge, and we also happily scoffed a few for breakfast on Sunday morning.

So, will I be attempting to put my skills into practice in the future? Well, if someone can supply me with a proper oven, a mixer, a sugar thermometer  and a nice man to do all the washing up, I suppose I would consider it!



*Can you tell I really detest the term "hen party"?

4 comments:

  1. That's frustrating that the reservation process did not go smoothly for you.

    I'm sure a French person is rolling over in their grave somewhere, but I've used the Elsa boxed mix that you can buy in the supermarket here twice now with success (both times in the US when I wanted to make macarons for a special occasion). It comes with a mix for the biscuit part and for the ganache, and doesn't require any of the complicated weighing, thermometers, etc. And they definitely do taste better the next day!

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  2. She actually say "mangeable"? :lol:

    I don't think I have the patience for l'art de la pâtisserie. i'm a terrible baker, actually. I'm a good cook for anything else that doesn't require following a strict recipe, savory dish, veggies, salads, etc.

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  3. Ha ha, "edible". Good idea for a non-hen party!

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  4. I would love to learn to make them! Perhaps I should learn. Maybe I will. I think that you have inspired me.

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