The French invented these little sugar hockey pucks called Macarons. The makers typically scent them up, color them all garish-like, spread some kind of jelly in the middle, and *presto* they became the favorite snack item of basic people worldwide. I don't think much of them - not really difficult to make (unlike a gateau frosted in ganache and filled with something light and not shelf-stable), and utterly monochromatic (wow. It's a raspberry colored thing filled with raspberry inside, how revelatory). My wife used to have them once in a awhile, but ever since we seen the possibilities out there (kunafe, Brigideros, pastilles tres leches), even that premise had worn thin.
Down in the Soho section of Manhattan there is a shop called Laduree, which is an outpost of a Parisian chain - the area is chic and you are buying into the "exclusivity" narrative. The Macarons are $2.50 each and come in fancy aqua boxes. The first time I got one as a gift from my wife (girlfriend at the time) I opened up the box and immediately stuck one up my armpit since I thought they were toiletries. Fortunately she saved her piece of (pastachio) and gave me half, and I had sticky lavender pits that evening. It was good...but nothing too memorable.
Fast forward 2 years. Me and the missus are in Paris for our honeymoon, walking down the Champs Elysses, and we were getting peckish. That's when my wife spotted it. The Laduree on the C-E. Oh - Merde. For those who want the original, it's on Rue Royale near place de la Madeleine in 1er - the C-E location opened around '97 or so. Me and my wife debated on whether we should grab a Macaron and enjoy it in the parc, or we should go inside for a meal. Well, their prix-fixe is 48 Euros and features monkfish filets with root vegetables, a pot of tea, and 4 Macarons. Considering the restos on the C-E are all bona-fide tourist traps, it's either hit Monoprix for a sandwich, waiting until we get back to the AirBnB for a home-cooked meal, or just bear it here.
And bear it we did. So the first problem is that the tearoom isn't really luxurious as much as it gave off the pretense of luxury minus the substance. Behind the intricate wood paneling were worn peeling carpet runners, paint patched with gaffers tape, and the tables were wobbly (cheap worn furniture). Let us not forget that Laduree is just a business unit of Paul (the bakery) since '93. Second, the service was...indifferent. I understand if this is some Haitian joint on the 19e and they barely parle Francais, much less en anglais, but this is one of most touristy spots in Paris and they were pretending not to speak English just to mess with you. Hell, I was able to have a friendly chat with the 93er (Parisian nickname for people who live in Department 93 aka the poor suburbs outside Paris, as opposed to the 75ers, who are from the 20 Arrondissements within) manning the Paul down on Avenue FDR.
So what about the food? Eeeeh. The tea is okay (but seriously, if I want tea I'll cross the Channel or go to Kusmi), the monkfish with Madagascar vanilla doesn't taste like much. Heavy mouthfeel, no vanilla notes, nothing to write home about. The Macarons with coffee were okay, but once again, it's the same stuff I shoved up my armpit back in NYC. I honestly had more fun eavesdropping on the Hong Kong fashion designer on the next table talking to a Parisian fashion house matriarch and his Paris based mentor than I did eating here. The food was mediocre, the service was indifferent, and the decor were bleh. Well, at least the bill came quick.
Anyways, will I have another Macaron? Sure. All the patisseries in Paris has one. Dalloyau has it. Angelina has it. Hell, the "local François" patisserie down the block has them, and they are not nearly as expensive. There's really no reason to buy them here. Just don't. You don't want to unlock that yelp tourist rube badge. read more