I came to Paris with one mission in mind — the mother of all macaron showdowns. To preface, I’m something of a masochist and average two emotional breakdowns annually over these small confections. Whether it be a puny foot, broken meringue, runny buttercream, or a combination of the three, I find a way to meet my two breakdown quota. If I’m going to Paris, why wouldn’t I want to see the source of both my ecstasy and agony? And so I headed to the St. Germain des Prés area in arrondissement 6.
Asparagus macarons for those brave enough to try… read on!