Delicate flecks of raspberry tucked into almond meringue domes have enough berry muscle behind them to fill your mouth with a summer rush. The raspberry in these macarons is a newly discovered, delicate picture of your 90 year old grandmother who weathered the Depression to come up jitterbugging and two-stepping, wry sweetness in tow. Many macarons are without substance, their alluring pastel colours a lie despite their playful names. The macarons of Douceurs de Terroir are grace, a ballerina with a PhD; Billie Holliday after finishing school.
Buttercream radiating with lavender successfully unites the raspberry domes and surpasses all of my hopes for a proper macaron. I also was fortunate enough to try the chocolate honey and the creaminess of the alluring honey domes against the subtle chocolate buttercream. It would delight the rumbling of Winnie the Pooh’s tummy, end his search for yet another smackerel of something.
I met Florence at Pete’s Frootique on Bedford one sunny Saturday afternoon and from a distance I spotted the corner of one brightly coloured macaron. “Macarons!” I exclaimed in that delightfully awkward way I have and dug my fingers into Mr.’s shoulder. As much as I try I am not that well-versed in baking these treasures and considering I live in Eastern Canada as opposed to Paris, they are not readily available. Florence is a representative of Douceurs de Terroir, a French import company that is mainly focusing on macarons, as they well should since each is a lesson in art.
I ate my share of the macarons on our sunny balcony, feet tucked under me. The flavour in every one was full and bold yet so perfectly understated that you’ll think your imagination has snuck its way into your mouth to play.
This is where I mention that I was in no way paid to write this rambling and overly favourable review. I am just smitten and would probably let them pay me in macarons if they asked.