Thursday, 19 July 2012
Well imagine my surprise when not only did I find some (appropriately at hotel Paris) but that they were some of the best I've eaten (besides my own obviously. That's not saying that I'm a superstar but I make 'em with love, damnit). Though, the experience was altogether unauthentic: an angry black woman from New Jersey sold them to me out of a damp and somewhat clinical looking display cabinet in a hotel in a sleazy American city that was made to look like one of the most beautiful on earth. To make the experience authentic to Vegas, my friend and I sat down at a slot machine and sunk our teeth into perfection. My only complaint is that they were carelessly filled with plain old raspberry jam. Its a shame to get that far then crap out at the end. It would be like getting brand new fake boobs, healed and ready to show off for swimsuit season only to wear loose turtle neck sweaters.
Except for last week. High humidity, high heat, an air conditioner that poo-pooed out this season and macarons that had to be made for a friend before I left town for a week meant that I became sweatier than I ever remember being before and apparently this didn't sit well with my meringues either. Small spots appeared on the shells the day after I baked them. I have no explanation for this nor could I find one. I guess dogs pant, humans sweat from their upper lips and macarons sweat out in little unsightly spots.