Did you know that the English translation of macaron (that tiny French confectionary) is MAGIC IN YOUR F-CKING MOUTH? I finally popped into French Made Baking the other day, stood in front of the macaron display (all gluten free) and stared at their tiny perfection like they were all puppies needing to be rescued.
They also had some other crazy looking gf treats – a small cake you nuke to make the middle a molten chocolate lava explosion, mousses to go and florentines. But I was here on a macaron mission. FOCUS.
I tried the vanilla, passion fruit, black currant, Earl Grey & raspberry flavours. I should have been slowly nibbling on each one, splayed across faded flowered linens, under a cherry blossom tree, in the shade of the Louvre. Instead I inhaled them huskily at my fake wood work desk. They are seriously fantastic for a mid-day treat and a surefire hit for a wee giftie.
Recommended for feeling way fancier than you really are.
Best served with tea and gossip
My only gripe about the bakery is that the bag they put the macarons in smelled like fresh hell. I did that precious girl thing where you slowly peek into a bag to look at something wonderful you are so happy about and was pummeled in the face with some sour plastic fumes. I was so worried the smell would infiltrate the dainty treats that I took them out in a hurried panic and hucked the bag across the room like it was a dingo.
Gluten free authority rating: 9/10 and a pinky up