Lord knows what kind of food coloring they used to give them those saturated hues of red and black, but they tasted heavenly nonetheless. The flavor-enhancing effects of European air probably helped. I recall biting into one for the first time and being surprised by the soft crack of the outer shell. The layer of meringue collapsed into a gooey, fruity interior that made my eyes wide. Tangy, creamy filling balanced the borderline headachey sweetness of the cookie. Clive and I ordered more than we thought we could eat after a full day of chocolate tasting, but ended up fighting over the last crumbs.
When I think of macarons, I lust after that first one most. I want to behold its deep beet color and inhale its sickly sweet aroma. But alas, Laduree is a long way away. And it’s not on the Candida diet anyway.
So I channeled my obsession into something (sort-of) constructive (depending on who you ask): Making miniature macaron beads. Yes that’s right, tiny polymer clay replicas ready to be strung into jewelry. I may sound crazy but I’m not the only one—I actually found a lot of helpful resources on the internet for capturing every detail. Thanks, Gentleman Bunny.
The foot is the most challenging part of a clay macaron. Getting those crumbs to look right takes precision. Apparently a well-formed foot is a sign of a good macaron in real life too.
photo from SeriousEats.com
Come see my mini food jewelry on display at my shop, The Xocolate Bar, just in time for Lent.
