Holy moly, it’s been an age since my last Paris post. Over three weeks, to be exact, and even that was a Glimpses post. To follow my Paris adventures chronologically, I must ask you to cast your eyes as far back as the 6th of April when I talked about the 17th and 18th of March, then come back here to the 3rd of May so I can showcase the sugar + garden adventure of the 19th of March. Nice and uncomplicated, yes?
Also, as this post-surgery business has seen me in more pain than I’d expected, and as I’ve today experienced those lovely sensations that cause one’s mother to dash out for gingerale and salada crackers… this might be more photo- than text-heavy. (Staring at the computer makes the tummy go oopsie-daisies, if you catch my drift.)
In Which I Make a Day of Pierre Hermé
Like any excited gâteau hunter, I spent several hours researching Pierre Hermé’s confections on the Internet before making my way to his Rue de Bonaparte boutique in the 6ème. Dear Blogworld, you are good at building gustatory anticipation.
Walking along the streets of Paris, I ran across this lady:
Once I arrived at the boutique, I was told by a worker that I could take only two photos. Luckily for me (and you), my giddiness, combined with the fact that I clapped to myself upon looking into the pastry cases and then burst out with “Je suis très contente!”, led the same young male worker to lean over the counter and whisper that I could take as many photos as I wanted.
Of course, Pierre is also known for his amazing macarons, but we’ve seen enough of those by now, surely? After my morning of research, I arrived at Pierre Hermé hoping to try one of the pastry king’s wackier creations, such as his parmesan and raspberry tart. Alas, March 19th must have been a day for normalcy, as there was nothing kooky in the cabinet to pick.
After a brief moment’s hesitation, I chose what some would call P.H’s original and the best. The Ispahan Individuel.
I took my bag with its carefully-packaged rosewater-flavoured macarons, fresh raspberries, sweetened cream mixed with fresh lychees, and rose petal garnished with a single dewdrop of glucose syrup, and made my way to the nearby Jardin du Luxembourg.
Want to know what makes eating something this delicate, sweet, fresh, fragile, and unique all the better? Doing so on a garden bench past which jog countless people running some sort of marathon*. Juxtaposition hilarity… and I know which person I’d always rather be in such a scenario.
My overall impression of Pierre Herme’s Ispahan can be summed up in the following words: delicate, refreshing, feminine, textural brilliance (smooth cream vs. firmer fruit vs. crackly-but-soft macaron), not-too-sweet, and subtle.
Raspberries and lychees are two of my favourite fruits, and I was pleasantly surprised by the subtlety of the rosewater. I ended up having to eat this fairly quickly on account of the marathon runners and their kicking-up of dust and dirt… but I’m not one to complain about gobbling up a macaron sandwich. Would you?
* On that note, huge congratulations to L-Izzle, who ran her first marathon yesterday. Well done lady - you’re amazing, and I hope your Silo chocolate and chestnut tart was equally as satisfying to complete afterwards.