Yesterday, my friend Amy and I battled blinding wind and rain on our way to La Cuisine Paris for a macaron class. Our umbrellas were all but useless, even when positioned as a shield. By the time we arrived at 80 Quai de l’Hôtel de Ville, I could no longer see out of my glasses, and my pockets had collected rain. Nice.
Soaked and traumatized was not how I imagined meeting Jane, the owner. We connected through mutual friends years ago, and I’ve wanted to take a few classes. My tight schedule in Paris doesn’t often allow for socializing or leisure, but I was eager to meet Jane and learn to make macarons.
After peeling off our soggy jackets, we climbed the stairs to the beautiful kitchen which overlooked the Seine. Better.
There were eight of us in the class, hailing from America, Chile, England and Australia. From the beginning our instructor Diane had us laughing and chatting like old friends. First we learned to make four fillings: chocolate ganache, pineapple rum, vanilla pastry cream and coffee buttercream. Amy and I made the coffee buttercream, though I also tuned in to Diane’s pastry cream tips. I’m determined to master French pastry cream so I can make my favorite French dessert, the Raspberry Tart.
After completion of the fillings, we let those chill out in the fridge while we tackled the macaron shells. We learned both the French and the Italian method. The Italian method, though a bit more difficult due to the sugar syrup process, was my favorite because I preferred the texture. The French method, Diane explained, was easier on the front end with fewer steps, but was more temperamental. I think I’ll experiment with both at home.
Amy and I, both professed neat freaks, exchanged looks of horror after the suggestion of mixing batter colors. I had envisioned perfect shells in one glossy color, and the thought of a misshapen blob of pink on top of green, or messy marbled shells sent chills up my spine. Everyone else seemed into the idea, so we had to defend our pristine batter. In the end, we lost and did end up with a rather motley assortment of colors. But you know what? They tasted great, and I learned that I’m definitely a purist (boring?) and don’t think I’ll be experimenting with blending shades in the future.
If you’re planning a trip to Paris, I recommend taking a class. I tackled macaron making, something until yesterday I thought I should leave up to the experts.
La Cuisine Paris
80 Quai de l’Hôtel de Ville
Cemeteries by their nature aren’t happy places, but I’m always happy to visit the them in Paris. They’re packed with beautiful sculpture, architecture and a melange of memorabilia ranging from sweet (a thick book stuffed with photos in a plastic, weather-proof case) to strange (a fishbowl).
It rained early this morning, and the cold mist and leaves left no room for debate whether autumn had arrived. I could smell change in the air, and that feeling of no turning back – the end of a season – set the tone for the walk. The entire cemetery seemed to be mourning that loss, shutting down until spring, saying goodbye.
About halfway through, I spotted a large orange cat sitting in a bowl. Most of the resident cats in the cemetery bolt when they see you, but not this guy. He jumped down and followed me around for fifteen minutes. He seemed to be waiting for me to toss him a treat, so it’s clear the neighbors take good care of him. In fact, all of the cats are giant, indicating either an abundance of rodents or friendly cat lovers nearby.
Another highlight was finding a spiderweb that seemed to be either spun with or held up by a pair of stone hands.
The leaves are brown and the light is gold.
It was a busy summer, and we are a bit behind schedule, but the latest volume of the Paris Journal is live.
Volume Two takes you to the twin islands at the heart of the city, the Île St. Louis and Île de la Cité. The day begins moments before dawn at the Cité train station, followed by a long, leisurely stroll along the banks of the Seine – a story of light, shadow and water.
We hope you enjoy it!