Jin Patisserie, Venice

On a lazy Wednesday afternoon I decided that in lieu of cleaning my Ceramics studio, I would instead spend it over tea and pastries with Jane. After all, it wouldn't be my last real quarter at UCLA if I didn't spend some of it playing hooky right? We walked down the Urban-boho-beach-chic Abbot Kinney and weaved in and out of a gelato-ry, an adorable stationary boutique, other various overpriced clothing boutiques, and my favorite -- Strange Invisible parfumerie. If I didn't already have perfume to last me until my 50th birthday, and if the prices didn't cost as much as it would for me to simply buy an acre of flowers to roll around in, you bet I would have walked out with a bottle of organic eau de parfum from them. If you ever get a chance to visit, I highly recommend this place :)

But I suppose I should spend some time talking about what the photographs in this post actually allude to: Jin Pâtisserie. It was about a year ago that a little bird from Gourmandise Desserts told me that Jin fabricated the best macarons in Los Angeles, and of course my eager tastebuds perked up and sent little salivary impulses to my hands and brain (yes, this is actually how my nervous system works.) to make a mental note and jot down the address to this place in hopes of making a near-future visit. Well it's only a year later thanks to a BlackBoard Eats newsletter that, with the incentive of 30% off, I was enticed to make the trek all the way to Venice.

Was I disappointed?
Well, if you make a claim such as "Best macarons in Los Angeles," you better damn well live up to the expectations. And they didn't. This place was a sorry disappointment. From the strange pseudo-modern "Zen" patio decorations, to the most expensive runny quiche with a side of Ruffles wave potato chips.

The best thing about this place might have been the cucumber water.
And that was free.

I don't know, I just think that if you're ballsy enough to label yourself a pâtisserie, wouldn't you specialize in pastries? The pastries that came with the afternoon tea tasted like they were cut from Ralph's sheet cakes and the coupon didn't even apply to the tea special. I hate it when they do that. Damn you, fine print. And then the macarons -- well they were just okay. I don't even remember them, that's how okay they were. We ordered one of each on the menu, and meh.
MEH.

Conclusion: Visit Abboy Kinney during a sunny afternoon and hop on over to Strange Invisible to visit the nice Asian British lady that works there & get gelato. Skip Jin.

Macaron Critique: Sadaharu Aoki

Love has a way of finding it's way back to you one way or another. It's funny that the final macaron maître just so happens to be the macaron boutique that I passed by everyday after class last fall and the same macaron boutique that I didn't bother to go into simply because -- actually I have no reason. Deep deep deep down, I believe the reason is because I thought, "Why visit a Japanese macaron boutique when I'm in Paris?" I was gravely mistaken.

Why not visit a Japanese macaron boutique when I'm in Paris?

At this rate you'll be finding me in a French sushi bar in Japan and a Chinese burger joint in Los Angeles. The contrast turned out to be a remarkable coup de foudre. As much as I hate to admit defeat, Aoki really sold it.

Although it took a bit of convincing to get me to finally cave in. Firstly, it was recommended to me by our illustrious PAL Sarah, and then by a more reliable source, Courtney, and after that mentioned in another macaron article that Anna sent me. When I finally made it to the boutique again, it was coincidentally under construction, for, yes, 5 days. My luck. But thank God I was persistent.

Now it comes down to a battle of East & West it seems, as it always turns out. Who will win the ultimate showdown? My beloved first love, Pierre, or the renegade underdog, Sadaharu?

VS

An intense battle it turned out to be, however I'm going to have to throw in the towel and call it a draw, because I really can't decide. Sadaharu nails it when it comes to experimentation, while Pierre doesn't always, however he does always turn out the perfect, and I mean perfect Mogador & outshines in all the classic flavors, in presentation, and traditional French technique. Sada (we're on nickname terms now) executes Asian flavors with finesse. I find that it's difficult to find a Western pâtissier who knows how to do that. And I can tell. I grew up with these flavors and these tastes & sensations on my tongue -- I know when it's foreign. I loved how he played with sweet & savoury (the essence of asian desserts) and his chocolate covered cassis macaron -- OUT OF THIS WORLD, I almost died.

After dragging George & Raphael to yet another one of my macaron whims, I dragged them to this adorable café (Bread & Roses) on Rue de Fleurus, just outside the Luxembourg gardens. Once we sat down we knew that we were going to be hungry.
29 Euro for a plate of smoked salmon?!

No, thank you.
You thought organic food in the US was expensive,
wait until you travel to Europe.
Holy sh*t.

It was a cute café though, admittedly, and we sat & devoured our Japanese confections.

If you're wondering how I managed to choose which flavors to try, I basically ordered anything in Japanese that I didn't understand. Hm. . . from what I can remember, this consisted of Matcha, Saya, Violette, Sésame Noir, Yuzu, Umé, Pêche, Genmaicha, Hojicha

Finally, because it was a hot day we decided to share a sesame noir ice cream sandwich.
The waiter at the cafe felt the need to mention how disgusting it looked.
But the ice cream was good.
Not so much the sandwich part...

By far my favorite.
Chocolate covered cassis macarons.
Genius.
Cover anything in a robe of chocolate and I'm sold.



MmMmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

That concludes this edition of macaron devouring. :)

Macaron Critique: Arnaud Delmontel, Carette, & Lenôtre

My macaron dégustation continues.
This time my search covers 3 famous Parisian macaron/pâtisserie powerhouses.
I believe I've already tried Lenôtres' but I don't remember much.

My search brought quite disappointing results.
I find often that "powerhouses" which run solely on word of mouth and/or magazine plugs
perhaps begin living up to their reputation, but as the years go by and their clientele continue to
swarm in regardless (see: Ladurée), the quality of their macarons diminish.
Such is the sad fate of the following macarons.

Arnaud Delmontel
57 Rue Damrémont, 75018 Paris

This dude has garnered like a million awards for his creations, followed and worked under the best pastry chefs / restaurant chefs in the country, opened his first bakery in 1999, followed by 2 more in the next decade. In 2007 he won the "Best Baguette of Paris" award. Which I still need to look up. . . (who won this years'? I just found out, thanks Google. --> Le Grenier à Pain, 38 Rue Abbesses. Funny. That's right next to Coquelicot and I was going to go in when I saw it. What is it about Montmartre and good bread? Must be in the air. Last year's winner was in Montmartre too)

And yet.

He can't even manage to live up to a simple tartelette aux fraises...
This was his downfall for me.
Sure, his brioche de saint génies was FABULOUS, and his macarons were so-so,
but to f*ck up a tartelette aux fraises? That's a no-no.
I haven't even tried the ones that Fréd makes at our bakery.
I'm scared to frankly.
But that's a different story...

I tried his passion fruit & his rose.
Passion fruit was yum, rose was yuck. Worst rose I've ever tasted, possibly.

Blech! I don't know if I just got a bad one, but the "crust" wasn't even a crust, it was cake-y, but not moist, there was too much syrup, the strawberries were mushy, and ... blech, I would never buy another one again, especially for what I paid. It was like 4.50. I could have done my groceries with that kind of money!



Carette
Patisserie, Salon de thé - 4, Place du Trocadero 75016

I really had my doubts about this place,
and it just goes to show how strong a woman's intuition is, because I was damn right.
This place sucked.
I knew the moment I went on their website and there was English & French, but not only that, the English version preceded the French one. You actually have to click on the French version if you wanted to see it in French. Sad. Tourist trap? I think so.
I'm sure it used to be wonderful, but being located so close to Trocadero. . . there's no place within like 20 miles of the Eiffel Tower that isn't overpriced and catered to those of a less-palatable pedigree. (ha.)

I originally wanted to take George there with me so that we can have lunch together, but in perusing the menu, 25 Euro for a simple Croque Monsieur is a little much, don't you think? Plus it was crowded and it was stressing me out just standing there.

So I just got the macarons to go.
No pizzazz, no glitz. Just in a little sack.
How boring.

Hazelnut
Citron
Cassis
Rose
Black Cherry
Café

I found the macarons from Carette much too sweet and uninspired. There weren't any flavors that blew my socks off, and a couple actually made me want to vomit. I didn't even continue after the first bite, and when I offered the rest to George, he grimaced and tossed it into the next Parisian trash sack. Cassis and Black Cherry were god-awful creations, and the only slightly (but not by a long shot) redeemable flavor was café, but aïe. . . I'm never going back there again.



Lenôtre
You may have heard of Lenôtre.
They have boutiques across Paris and are a pastry school as well.
Their cakes look pristine, their pastries -- inspired, and their macarons. . .


like the size of a penny.
I mean what the heck, Lenôtre, can't spare a little more almond flour & egg whites? Geez.
I've nothing really to complain about their macarons except um, I expected better.
Not only are they insubstantial, they are very very very fragile. Most macarons
withstand a simple nudge from the metal tongs that you might use to gingerly pick them up with, but not these -- these crumble under the slightest breeze. And the ganache ---- flowed like water.

Maybe they should stop opening new boutiques and start refining their techniques.
EEEEEEEeee....

haha okay.

Pampelmousse (grapefruit), Pistache-Pralin (pistachio & praline), & caramel

Pistachio praline was the best of the three.
Pampelmousse was weird with a bitter aftertaste... but I guess that's what I get for ordering grapefruit flavored anything.

Strawberry Macarons

Some old white guy probably came up with that old adage which said that "life has no certainties, and there are no absolutes." Well, that white guy is probably dead, which is tragic for him, because not only is he dead, he's dead and wrong. There are few things in life that I can say for certain, will always bring a smile to my face no matter how old and jaded and in general disarray that I am. A trip to Anthropologie, freshly cut flowers, lavender milk tea, a package in the mail, Jim Sturgess, and of course, the très petit, très mignon, très délicieux macaron.

With origins dating back to the 18th century, these little bites of heaven have captured my heart. Not to be confused with the "macaroon," which are the toasted coconut confections of North American popularity, the macaron is perfectly and unsurprisingly, French. I had my first encounter with the macaron during the summer of 2007. It was a clear day in Paris. Walking past an adorable pâtisserie on the corner of a street in Montmartre (which is no longer there, sadly.), my friend Megan and I decided to dangerously venture in, intrigued by the bustling line that had formed around the counter and lulled by the wafting scents only a bakery can produce. Suddenly, there they were, behind that pristine domed class counter. Stacked on top of one another in a variety of colors, beckoning my taste buds to submission. I had to have one. But what the heck were they? I had no idea. Megan purchased a pistachio, while I had the black currant. Hold on while I recall our reactions. Oh yes.

"OH.
MY.
SWEET.
GOD."

That sounds about right. Returning to the States was torture simply because there were no macarons to be found. And if there were, none that were comparable to those of the Parisian variety with their certain "je ne sais quoi." It is that memory that fuels my delight and silly hope of one day standing behind the counter of a pâtisserie instead of in front of one, most likely drooling.

Of course this tale does come with a point. Since Paris, I have attempted to make some of my own, but the process is so meticulously arduous that I seldom do work up the courage to set aside the afternoon---or maybe more like a day--to create them. A couple of years ago I tried a plain almond and nutella macaron which was, I'm proud to say, very successful. However I've lost that original recipe and this time around, I decided to be a bit more experimental which cost me dearly in hindsight. These delicate meringue cookies are so fragile and temperamental it makes me want to cry in surrender, but if you are lucky enough to get them perfect, it's well worth it. I don't think one understands the average price of a macaron until they attempt to make one.

I wanted to ensure the success of my macarons because my heart was so set on devouring them that I invested in a kitchen scale. Isn't it adorable? Farewell pesky metric conversions! It was only $35.99 on sale courtesy of Sur La Table. Marked off from $60! I was ecstatic.

As intimidating as they are, the macaron is comprised of simple ingredients. Almond (or hazelnut) powder, egg whites, confectioner's sugar, and just a touch of lemon. For these, I made a strawberry ganache as the filling.

The recipe I used was from La Cuisine de Mercotte here, and hopefully next time I will set aside my nervousness to pay closer attention to the measurement conversions so that perhaps you can try a hand at it too!

Ingredients

• 90g egg whites that have been aged and brought up to room temperature
• 220 g confectioner’s sugar
• 120 g almond meal roasted in a 300 degree oven for 10 minutes and allowed to cool
• 25 g granulated sugar
• 1/4-1/2 Tsp of powdered food coloring of your choice

Directions

1. Place a baking sheet in the oven and preheat at 300 degrees for small macarons or 320 degrees for large ones.
2. Use the pulse mechanism on your food processor to blend together the confectioner’s sugar and the almond meal, making sure that they don’t overheat. Sift this mixture.
3. Beat the egg whites until firm with 2 drops of lemon juice and a pinch of salt, allow them to foam and add the granulated sugar bit by bit. Before you finish beating the meringue, add the coloring.
4. Pour half of the almond mixture onto the meringue, and incorporate it with a spatula by starting from the middle of the bowl and moving upwards and out. When the mixture becomes homogeneous, add the rest of the almond meal and sugar and repeat the same process.
5. The batter should be a shiny, smooth, pliable, quasi-liquid mixture that resembles magma. Pipe out your shells in staggered rows on perforated baking sheets, covered with a silicone mat or parchment paper. You should use a pastry bag with a 10 mm tip for this.
6. Place the shells into the oven on the heated baking sheet. Cooking time is about 13 minutes for small shells, but if you are making large macarons they will need a few extra minutes. Let them cool slightly before removing them from the baking sheet. If you use a silicone mat, the shells should pop right off, no need to entice them by slipping moisture underneath!

I suggest at this point that you make a small indentation on the underside of each shell. This makes it much easier to fill them later on.

Cooking times will obviously vary according to the oven.

Due to certain atmospheric conditions or supernatural causes, perhaps you find it necessary to leave the piped shells out for an hour before baking to help the outer crust develop. I, on the other hand, don’t; but maybe you should give this method some thought if you consistently end up with macarons that are cracked or have no collar.

The quantities in this recipe will yield about 120 shells or 60 macarons.

My first batch was a disaster because I didn't let them sit! I highly suggest this important step!

Because it's gives you this! Ta-Da!

Goodness. That's enough for me for quite some time. The aspiring pastry chef in me is still bruised from the initial failure. There's a lot more that I can tweak about this recipe, but perhaps when I muster up the gall to give it another go, you'll be the first to know. I also juggled making madeleines (which you'll hear about later) and sharing the kitchen with my mom (always fun, but grrr she takes up so much counter space) which may have contributed, but I'd like to think so.

Bon appétit.