Macaron Obsession

What is it about not being able to have something that makes you want it so damn bad?

This week, I yearn for French Macarons. The first time I had them was in London at a tiny shop made to look like a gilded cave. The macarons were lined up in the window like gemstones studding Wonka-esque ore.

(photo from Melpomene.net)

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.

The Dreaded Yeast Returns

Candida Albicans

One of the occupational hazards of being a chocolatier is succumbing to candida from time to time.  For me it happens like clockwork in mid January, after a solid month of overindulgence in all things sweet and starchy.  The chocolate business booms in December (along with my appetite), and the holidays bring on feast upon blessed feast. The festivities continue in January as all the Capricorns stuff me full of birthday cake, wine and irresistible hors d’oeuvres. Pair that with lack of exercise and a dwindling supply of appetizing fresh vegetables, and you’ve got yourself one mother of a case of candida.

So here I am on January 26, one week into my austere candida regimen.  I have to admit I’ve slipped a couple of times—like when I was simply possessed to lick the scoops after packing gelato pints, and when I just plain HAD to eat one of Kitchen Alchemy’s raw macaroons (I felt so happy I almost cried).  But what do you expect when I spend a day surrounded by temptations that I cannot eat? It’s torture!  Luckily Clive has been working a bit more than his fair share, so I can stay home and surround myself with quinoa, kale, grass-fed beef and avocados.

The candida diet is not all that bad. You can actually eat quite a lot of things on it, just not the things you crave most. The purpose of it is to kill by starvation the excess yeast that has hijacked your system. And more than anything, yeast loves sugar.  That means cutting out the obvious: cookies, cakes, pastries, CHOCOLATES, caramels, etc; but also severely limiting fresh fruit and complex carbohydrates.  It’s like the Atkins diet, but the aim is purification rather than weight loss. The mantra is “DON’T FEED THE YEAST!”

You’re also not supposed to have caffeine, but please, who am I trying to kill, the yeast or everyone around me?  I tried the recommended Pau d’Arco tea and the taste turned my mouth inside out.

The worst part of the diet is the inevitable “die off”: If you’ve been a real good girl and stuck to veggies, ancient grains, and unprocessed meats you will be rewarded by the speedy extinction of your parasitic fungus.  The catch is that as the buggers die, their last gasp sounds like “fuck you.” Like suicide bombers, they release toxins that assault your already lethargic human vehicle. From candida-cure-recipes.com:

As the body works to detoxify, you may experience symptoms including dizziness, headache, “foggy” headedness, eye floaters (the little blurs in vision which can be detected when the eyeball moves back and forth), depression, anxiety, heightened anger reactions, gas & bloating, flatulence, diarrhea, constipation, joint pain, muscle pain, body aches, sore throat, general malaise, exhaustion, need for more sleep, sweating, chills, nausea, skin breakouts, or other symptoms.

Yup. Sounds about right. All the reasons why I started the diet in the first place are magnified, and all I have to ride on is a glimmer of hope that if I hang on a little longer I’ll feel good again. Until next winter, that is.

So I’m recovering in fits and spurts, as quickly as my discipline (or lack thereof) will allow.