Obsessions are bad. Obsessions are time consuming. Obsessions lead to multiple batches of macarons in search of the perfect batch.Back when I had my macaron craze, I at least had a craze. I had something that motivated me, something that compelled me to do things until the wee hours of the morning. I’d get up, change, and start measuring out the ingredients. I’d mix and measure and watch, all the time making sure things didn’t look like the last batch. Egg whites beaten until stiff peaks formed, sugar and water boiled until they were syrupy, tant-pour-tant mixed and ground to a fine consistency without any large chunks.
All done for my quest to make the perfect macarons.
Batch after batch, I’d make it, trying out new combinations, different orders, different amounts; all while changing the flavor and in hopes that this batch would be better than the previous one. Too wet, too flat, too soft, too sweet, too sticky. Broken, dented, separated, over-beaten, under-beaten, ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Batch after batch, something was always wrong. From almost perfect to completely disastrous, I still couldn’t find my perfect batch. So another batch would be necessary. And then another. And another.
In hindsight, Batch #1 set the bar too high for the rest of the batches. By following a recipe I had found online to a T, I managed to create a decent batch of macarons in that first attempt. The shell was nice and sturdy while the inside was still soft and slightly gooey. They came off the parchment paper without any trouble and they had the perfect little “feet” – the essential ruffled fringe that makes a macaron a macaron – on the bottom. Some of the fringed bottoms were crooked (due to under-beating or too high of heat, I’m still not sure), and I hadn’t realized yet that the tips wouldn’t flatten on their own (definitely due to under-beating). No matter the tiny flaws that my first batch had, I had still moderately succeeded in creating the quintessential French macaron.
But, as they say, a miss is as good as a mile.
And I wasn’t going to have any part in “almost perfect” macarons.
And that meant Batch #2, 3, 4, and x, y, and z (Batch x, y, and z were because I lost count as to how many batches I made.). (I never quite understood why when using variables one starts with x. Wouldn’t it have been more logical to start with a? Ponder ponder…)
Batch #2 failed miserably. Over confidence in my abilities to remember amounts caused me to measure amounts incorrectly, thus making my syrup not syrup at all. Turns out eyeballing it doesn’t work if you don’t even have the correct amounts. The outcome: macarons that don’t dry, which in turn doesn’t cook properly, and aren’t salvageable. Not even worth pulling out my camera. Epic fail. Lessons learned: follow recipes! The second attempt is not the time to get cocky and measure via memory.
Batch #3, definitely a step up from Batch #2, but still not even Batch #1 caliber. Non existent feet, too soft a shell, cracks. Lesson learned: Less sugar. Keep trying.
Batch #4 and 5 and 6. Again, too soft, no feet, lumpy. Again. Again. Again. At this point I was ready to give up. Batch after batch were failing and I couldn’t figure out why. I scoured the blogosphere for reasons to why my macarons refused to be macarons. Google, YouTube, Blogspot, someone give me the answers! Each blog said the same thing about the consistency of the batter: fold until it “flows like lava”. WTF. “Flows like lava”?? Batch after batch I chased this elusive “flows like lava” consistency only to have my macarons look like the pictures on blogs labeled “over-beaten” or “under-beaten”. “Temperature too high” or “temperature too low”. If my friends hadn’t gotten diabetes yet with the sugary-sweet macarons I’d be surprised. Were my semi-successes just flukes? Was it just a chance encounter with success? Was that as good as it gets? Should I call it quits? I was already spending quite a lot on ingredients. What was I going to do with all the egg yolks that I wasn’t using? I had already scoured American specialty stores for almond flour (only to realize it was quite a bit cheaper at an Indian market).
Fortunately my parents didn’t mind. If you’re going to do something, they said, do it right. Don’t stop till you get it. And so I continued. Till 3AM I continued. All in search for that perfect batch of macarons.
Then comes x! Success! Well, close to success. A lot closer than ever before in my macaron obsession. Beautiful lift off. Still a bit on the sweet side, but it’s a work in progress. Some of Batch x still had some lumpy tops and some cracks, but it topped Batch #1 so I accepted it and all its failures. They still didn’t look like Pierre Hermé, Ladurée, or any French macaron I’ve seen, but the resemblance was there. So close to perfection I could taste it. Mango macarons with mango and chocolate filling. What a hit with my taste testers! After all the failed attempts, this reinstated my confidence that I was a decent baker. What an ego boost! And just the encouragement I needed to push me back into my obsession. With that semi-success now in my macaron history, I was sure I could make that perfect macaron. That perfect macaron was possible. Those semi-successes weren’t just flukes or lucky shots. There was hope for the perfect macaron.
But success isn’t success until it can be recreated. So, after a bit of a hiatus, Batch y comes into existence. Only I had gotten cocky again and assumed that by now I knew the measurements. Well, you know what they say about assuming. And so Batch y comes to its unsightly end in the macaron graveyard. So sad.
Batch z! Clearly the recipe I was following wasn’t doing it for me. Why I didn’t change recipes earlier? Well because I thought that it was me that was failing at it. I was tweaking the recipe here and there so it must have been me. Plus, it was the same recipe I saw in at least three other blogs. So it must have been good. Well as it turns out, there are better recipes out there. And Batch z proves it! Success in the form of macarons! Prettier than ever! Perfect feet this time, evenly distributed throughout the entire batch! Smooth tops, nice and squishy in the center. No air pocket inside. And not diabetes-inducingly sweet! Horray!
Ah success in the form of the perfect macaron. How delightful.
Well no, not quite success just yet. Because, like I said, a success isn’t a success unless it can be recreated.
And so perhaps it’s time for my next batch.
And perhaps obsessions aren't that bad after all.
