Three French Hens, Two Macarons, and Lovers in a Bakery: A Love Story Served With Indulgent French Desserts

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Three French Hens, Two Macarons, and Lovers in a Bakery: A Love Story Served With Indulgent French Desserts Page 8

by Noelle Love


  Take a filled cream puff and dip the bottom half into the hot caramel. Set the dipped cream puff on a serving platter, caramel side down. Continue dipping cream puffs into the caramel, creating a ring of 10 on the platter and then stacking additional cream puffs on top to form a layered-pyramid (5 to 6 layers will use about 40 to 50 cream puffs). If you need to reheat the caramel to keep dipping, reheat for a few minutes over low heat. Any extra caramel can be drizzled over the top of the pyramid.

  Your finished Croquembouche makes a beautiful centerpiece for holiday parties and is an instant crowd-pleaser at dinners. Your creation can be at room temperature for 2 hours before eating.

  14

  Tali opened the bakery that day for her two friends, both of whom had called her just minutes ago saying that they weren't going to be in this morning. Tali opened the bakery's shutters and breathed heavily on the glass window, drawing a small heart in the fog. After studying the small heart for a moment, she waved her hand over it and made it disappear, realizing it was very uncharacteristic for her to have done such a thing.

  Tali had always been the type of girl very content to be alone. In fact she preferred it, which is why when given the chance to live with Margot in her flat a few blocks away or a studio that was just big enough for her to lie down flat in both directions above the art gallery she chose the latter. She enjoyed Margot and found her to be incredibly interesting (as well as the subject for many of her sketches citing her unique features as “irresistible”) but couldn't fathom the idea of living with someone so exuberant and outgoing. Tali knew that there would always be people at Margot's, parties, impromptu gatherings, and she would be forced to socialize as the roommate.

  Tali wasn’t what you would consider anti-social though. She loved people, so long as they had the tendency of being quiet and were serious enough to appreciate a good book even in light of an invitation to a raucous party. Most people who knew Tali in high school would wager that ten years after graduation she would be working as a librarian (but maybe that is just what they fantasized about). Tali’s looks had given her the opportunity to be incredibly popular, but her reserved personality kept her out of the “cool” crowd even as an adult.

  But something in the air today was making Tali feeling romantic, which is what prompted her to draw the small heart in the first place. Last night she couldn’t sleep, very aware and strangely upset that she was alone. After fantasizing about having sex with Aubin she couldn’t get the idea out of her mind. Everything turned her on in the past twelve hours, filling the cream puffs, the erect Eiffel Tower standing outside her tight apartment, even, she hated to admit, her electric toothbrush. She was embarrassed when she thought about how long ago was the last time she had sex, almost eight years, with her one and only boyfriend, a successful banker now living with his Italian wife and twins (daughters not prostitutes) in Zurich.

  Tali began setting out the morning pastries, fully aware that it was busy work considering that chances were the only person walking through the door of The Two Macarons today was Basile. She hoped that the work would clear her mind of her rediscovered sexuality, but it was too menial to distract her from the vivid erotica that was taking place in her mind. Thankfully, Basile walked in shortly after, giving Tali momentary relief. It would be Basile’s usual this morning, espresso and macaron. After making sure he settled into his spot and decided which table to place their one bouquet of flowers on this morning (by the window to lure customers in or, at least she thought, so it could be appreciated by those who passed by), Tali headed back to the kitchen, determined to work on the apricot filled Galette Des Rois she was planning on giving Basile as a Christmas gift, hoping that baking would be the solution to eradicating her naughtiness.

  Galette Des Rois

  Serves 6

  Ingredients

  14 ounces prepared puff pastry

  2 ½ tablespoons apricot jam

  6 ½ tablespoons butter, softened

  6 tablespoons granulated sugar, processed until very fine

  2 eggs, whisked (divided in half)

  6 tablespoons ground almonds

  2 tablespoons dark rum

  Directions

  Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.

  Separate the puff pastry into two equal halves and roll into 10” rounds. Place one round on a baking sheet and spread the apricot jam on top in an even layer, leaving a bit of a border around the edges.

  In a small mixing bowl combine the butter and sugar and mix until fluffy. Continue mixing as you add in one of the whisked eggs. Use a spatula to stir in the almonds and rum. Spread this mixture on top of the layer of apricot jam. Use a pastry brush to brush the border on the puff pastry with water. Place the second piece of puff pastry on top, pressing the edges together to seal in the filling. Use a wooden skewer or toothpick to draw a zigzag pattern on top and then brush with the remaining whisked egg.

  Place the filled puff pastry in the preheated oven and bake for about 30 minutes or until the top appears golden brown in color and crisp to the touch. The galette can be served either warm or cold.

  15

  Parc Bonheur understood the meaning of hard work. Growing up he worked two to three jobs, several before the legal age, working a deal out with store managers who felt bad for the black kid – poor and, despite the common held belief that equality was rampant in France and the rest of the modern world, discriminated against. Parc’s dad left when he was four, leaving behind his recovering drug-addict mom and three sisters. Being the oldest of his siblings and the only male in the house, Parc took it upon himself to make sure there was food on the table and that his mom had money to pay the bills, even if she only paid a small percentage of what was really due. But unlike many of his friends who were in similar situations, Parc had ambitions. He dreamt of some day buying his own flat in the heart of Paris, becoming a lawyer who could fight for little people, people like his mom and his friends, that needed someone to be their voice in a world where money bought power and power spent its time staring in a mirror, eventually drowning in self-obsession like Narcissus.

  Parc did very little sleeping as a teenager, waking up early to shine shoes, going to classes, working as a stock boy at a local market, helping his occasionally unconscious mother prepare dinner for her kids, and then studying and finishing his homework before it all began the next day. Parc became an above average student, but, as one of his teachers in high school liked to point out to him on a regular basis, was not exceptional. Without help, there was no way he would get the scholarship he so desperately needed to afford to go to college and then to law school.

  Thankfully his English teacher, Ms. Hardy, whose father just so happened to be a partner in the prestigious law firm, Hardy, Page & Palomer, took a liking to her hard-working student and wrote an impeccable letter of recommendation. With a bit of leaning from her father, Parc enrolled at Montpellier and then went on to the well-known Queen Mary, University of London in Paris, where he studied International Dispute Resolution and Economic Law.

  All of the above precisely mentioned to acknowledge Parc’s incredible intellect, which is why, today, running errands for a Mr. Palomer of Hardy, Page & Palomer, Parc was a little frustrated. He had been at the firm for nearly two years now and yet he was still just an errand-boy despite the title of “associate”. Today, as the rest of the law firm met to discuss a prominent case regarding the country’s largest steel manufacturer, Parc was out of the office and on his way to some bakery to pick up snacks for the other lawyers who had already ordered their blackcurrant macarons in anticipation of their mid-morning hunger that had apparently already struck an angry and ungrateful Mr. Palomer.

  Parc pulled up to a little bakery tucked away in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower. “The Two Macarons,” said Parc, reading the purple curly text on the sign above the door. “That’s probably all a place this size can make,” he thought. “Two macarons.” Walking in, he wasn’t surprised to find the place empty having noted the gia
nt Delroy Doux across the street. Everyone in Paris, including the majority of his co-workers, raved about Double D, as they called it, their only complaint that the women working inside didn’t always wear the matching bra size. Mr. Palomer, however, was from the old school of thought, ordering from The Two Macarons because they were more expensive – the more something costs the better it is. And, when you are rich, that way of thinking was easy, and fun, to live by. At least, Parc thought, he wouldn’t have to wait in line like you do at Double D. He would be in and out in no time, back sooner than Mr. Palomer expected, which would not only make a good impression but might also give Parc a chance to listen in on the meeting, and, he thought, maybe even get a chance to say something.

  Parc located a small copper bell on the middle counter top and tapped it, hoping to alert whoever was working of his presence. Parc counted to ten and checked his watch. His finger tapped the bell twice rapidly, hoping to send the signal that he was also in a hurry. He counted to ten again and let out a breath of exasperation. Three taps on the bell. His foot began to tap. Four taps on the bell. He began to look around anxiously, monitoring the kitchen door and then the front door for a sign of life. Nothing. I have to do something, Parc thought, and made his way through the kitchen door.

  Immediately he saw his purple boxes, all labeled HP&P. Seeing as they had already been paid for in full, he planned on taking the boxes and rushing back to the office as quickly as possible, the idea of getting back sooner than he planned becoming more exciting as his imagination began going through the possible outcomes of his arrival. “Why Parc!” Mr. Palomer would exclaim. “Well done! What dedication! What motivation! What skill! Associate? No. Welcome back, partner.”

  But a mound of rich black hair bobbing up and down at the back of the bakery interrupted his plans. Out of the corner of his eye, Parc had spotted something, someone that made him stop dead in his tracks. Unconsciously he set down the boxes he was cradling in his arms, enthralled. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, hoping to catch a scent of the goddess before him. Intoxicated by her sweet scent, like a fragrant rose fresh with morning dew, he opened his eyes and began to study her profile more closely. Her skin was perfect, soft, and pale with a peachy complexion in her cheeks. Her lips were full, plumped and pouty, painted with a rich red hue. Her dark hair looked rich and thick even though it was piled high on her head, casually thrown up to keep it out of her face.

  She was absorbed in her work, her knife making strokes, an intricate pattern, in the puff pastry of her Galette Des Rois with the skill of a painter’s paintbrush. She was listening to music, something she must love, classical, Parc guessed, smiling at the sound of each note, very much in a world of her own.

  In moments like these the universe is kind, aware of schedules and repercussions, putting in use its great power to allow this moment to happen and freeze time. True love cannot be rushed. Hours go by in the lover’s kitchen as a brief ten seconds tick by on the clock out front. The clock struck ten, the sound of the chime loud enough to crack time’s ice block. Emerging from his reverie, Parc took a step towards his obsession and Tali slowly turned around to meet her fate.

  Cassis Macarons

  Serves 12

  Ingredients

  2/3 cup ground almonds

  1 ¾ cups powdered sugar

  ¼ cup finely ground sugar

  3 large egg whites

  2 teaspoons freeze dried blackcurrant powder (optional)

  3-5 drops powdered food coloring

  For the filling

  ¾ cup chopped white chocolate or white chocolate chips

  ¼ cup cream

  5 teaspoons cassis (blackcurrant) liqueur

  Directions

  Preheat your oven to 300 degrees F. Prepare two baking sheets by lining with parchment paper and set aside.

  In a mixing bowl whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Working in small batches, whisk in the finely ground sugar, alternating between the two. Then whisk in the blackcurrant powder (if using) and the food coloring until you achieve your desired color.

  Use a spatula to fold in the almonds and the powdered sugar until you create a thick but still batter-like consistency (pancake batter is too thin, cookie dough consistency is too thick). Place the dough in a pastry bag with a round tip and pipe onto the prepared baking trays leaving space between to allow for spreading. Let the macarons sit at room temperature for 15 minutes before placing in the preheated oven and baking for 12 minutes.

  Place pieces of parchment paper on top of your wire cooling racks and then transfer the baked cookies to cool completely.

  While the cookies cool prepare the filling by placing the cream and cassis liqueur in a saucepan over medium heat. Once just starting to bubble, begin to add in the white chocolate, mixing constantly until it melts completely and the mixture appears smooth.

  Spread the filling on the flat side of half of the macaron shells. Then place the remaining half of macarons on top, flat side down, pressing gently so that the filling just begins to poke out from the edges.

  16

  It is hard to find words to describe exactly what happens when two people fall in love at first sight, but if one could they would describe exactly what happened between Parc and Tali. In an instant they knew they would be together forever, but worldly conventions would make them wait before sealing the deal. For some reason, even in the most romantic city on earth, people didn’t quite like the idea of two people getting married very quickly. There was something about the whole thing that made others insecure, as if they were personally jilted by the couple that had decided there was no one else on the planet (or at least within a hundred kilometer radius) that was better than the person they found and had fallen head over heels in love with.

  Tali carried one of the three boxes outside to Parc’s car, which had been running since he came in. His little red Peugeot reminded Tali of the small birds she listened to on warm days outside her window. Everything, Tali realized, about Parc reminded her of something she loved. She knew that she was already in love with Parc, but quickly turned her attention away from the idea, knowing that Margot and Zenna would give her a hard time for falling in love with a man she had just met and literally knew nothing about, except that he worked for a law firm that appreciated small businesses.

  Parc took the third box out of Tali’s arms, lingering for a moment, but moving away quickly aware as well that it was strange to have such strong emotions for a complete stranger. Saying goodbye and driving away was the hardest thing Parc had ever done. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not turn his car around, pick Tali up, and make love to her in the backseat. He didn’t ask for her phone number or make plans to see her again, Parc realized as he turned the corner. The moment was too perfect, he thought, to ruin it with something as typical as a pick-up line. Besides, Parc didn’t know what he would do with a girlfriend anyway. Trying to make his way through the law firm initiation consumed all of his time and energy. He had come so far now, he was so close - he couldn’t give up. Parc hit the steering wheel with both hands in frustration, quickly correcting his ten and two position to avoid hitting a break dancing teenager who had strayed into the street.

  Tali watched as Parc’s car drove away, getting swallowed by the morning’s traffic. The momentary disappointment she felt was quickly replaced with clarity. This is what true love was, she thought. This is what her parents had felt when they had first met. This was her “love at first sight” story and she knew that even though Parc left, giving her no idea when she would see him again, that their paths would cross again – and again and again until they became one. She had never been surer of anything in her life.

  Turning to head back inside the empty bakery, she saw Zenna’s unmistakable red hair strolling towards her. Her face was content and her hand was preoccupied, holding on to someone else’s five fingers. The man whom the fingers belonged to, Tali decided, was adorable. He had a smile that was contagious, even from several
meters away, and Tali suddenly caught herself smiling from ear to ear.

  As the couple approached Tali racked her brain – who could this mystery man be? Should she know him? Ever since Tali had known Zenna she had never met any of the men in her life, primarily because they were rarely in her life for more than a night anyway.

  “Good morning,” Zenna chimed, her fingers still interlaced in those of her dashing escort. Tali greeted the two, unsure if she should introduce herself or wait for her friend to. But with a quick look at Zenna Tali realized to let the moment be theirs. She smiled and walked into the bakery, anxiously waiting to hear all about it. Too curious to leave the front of the bakery entirely, Tali made herself look busy, grabbing a cloth nearby and rubbing it in circular motions on the tables and backs of the chairs. She had a great view of the two from the front window, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, laughing playfully and leaning into each other. Oh. My. Having just experienced what love looked like firsthand just moments ago, Tali knew in an instant. Her Zenna was madly in it.

  Zenna came inside after watching her lover pull a unicycle out of a trunk of a car parked out front. He hopped on the one wheel, tipped his brown derby hat, and faded away into the shadows of soon to be bare trees. “That is Jacques,” Zenna said, her smile so deliciously genuine Tali couldn’t help but to squeal. “So…” Tali began, hoping to coax more details out of her friend. “So,” Zenna replied, “I’m starved. I must have burnt a million calories last night.” Zenna laughed, lingering by the front window, scanning the horizon to see if she could spot Jacques’s house.

 

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