La vie en rose

 

This cookie-off has stirred up all kinds of memories. I did a lot of cookie baking when I was younger, but these days, I can't remember the last time I made cookies for fun. I guess at some point I left the poor cookie behind in pursuit of more exciting desserts. What was I thinking?

Yet, even better than baking cookies is eating cookies. And that, I excel at. Cookies and coffee is still my favorite breakfast of all time, and makes an excellent pre-race carbo load. I have to physically look away from the display case of cookies at the coffee shop where I go in the afternoons, and I still end up getting one at least twice a week. Dear cookie, I think you are the perfect food unit (hot dog, you're up there too). If I could marry a cookie, I would. Or at least it could be my live-in boyfriend. We'd be exclusive, cookie, for sure. I like you like you.

My favorite cookie experience by far was in Paris, the moment I discovered macaroons. I was there as a nanny, hanging out with a two month old baby all day for a week, and was free to roam around and eat and see things and get paid quite a lot of money (don't hate me). Now, I hate being seen as a tourist no matter where I go. But luckily, a baby is the best disguise ever invented-- everyone is looking at them, not you! It is also the best way to disarm a grumpy french person and cut long lines. So, not knowing a lick of french, I was at the mercy of the baby to hide my blatant monolingual americanness. This meant that I often acted like the baby was asking for things when I didnt know the words (in case you ever want to try this, you hide your head behind the baby's, point to what you want, and make incoherently cute baby talk that might-kind-of-sound-like the real way to say what you want). It worked surprisingly well.

But then one day, I stumbled across this place, and my world was forever changed. Keep in mind, its not like I discovered the world's best pâte sucrée in Calcutta. Ladurée is fairly famous (though I had never heard of it), and just look at it-- any person with half a heart and a stomach would just have to cross the street and go in. But it is absolutely the most beautiful and charming food establishment I've ever been to. This place makes me hate Amelie a little bit less.

So as not to embarrass myself with baby pointing in this most sophisticated of bakeries, I hung around for about 20 minutes, working up the courage to order and listening to the words people were using. I had no idea what these psychedelic sandwich cookies were, but it sounded like customers were pointing to them and saying "eu... auuu...harumpharumphumph". So after a while I got in line and mumbled "harumpharumphumph" like the rest of them, but I got only grumpy French stares. I tried diverting them with the baby: "eauu... bebe?  enfant? sacre bleu!", but that didn't work either. Finally they just gave me an assortment of all of them and i left.

I had heard of macaroons before, but I always thought of them as coconut covered balls of goo that old people like to loose false teeth in. Little did I know that the french pronunciation ( harumpharumphumph), meant pillowy clouds of merengue in the most delicate flavors, sandwiched around delicious, heroin-laced filling that made me go back to Laduree at least once a day with a wild look in my eye. For the record, I would like to apologize to said baby for getting all those crumbs on his head while I was scarfing macaroons with him in a baby bjorn.

So... macaroons. I still dream about them. I almost never get them except when I'm in Paris (which is like, totally every weekend) because I'm convinced we Americans would mess them up. I also don't want to destroy the memory of that first perfect macaroon, eaten on the sidewalk, in all its pillowy glory.

However, there is this cookie-off thing. And what better way to knock them all down with shock and awe than with homemade macaroons? I am thinking one Rose flavored, one pistachio, and one salted caramel.
I'm fairly sure that these would win first place, provided I make them right. How hard can it be? A little egg white, a little sugar, yaddayaddda, bada boom, done. 

I think I will make these chocolate chip-pecan-bacon cookies as a backup, just in case my macaroon dreams fall through.