The Macaron – How quintessentially…French?

Strolling along the cobbled streets of Montmartre, a little café tucked out of sight but calling passers by to try the meringue and almond-based delicacy, housing dozens of morish flavours of the Macaron. Reputed patisseries boastfully display the sweet treats as their own, as something running within the blood of the French nation; this also including the notorious croissant, for example, drawing both locals and tourists into the nostalgic, warming smells of Paul, or Angelina. But, for something that they claim to make up a significant part of the French gastronomical world, can we really class it as purely, categorically French?

The arrival of the Macaron in France can be traced back to the marriage of Henri II to Catherine de’ Medici in the 16th century. It was originally named the maccherone having been produced in Venetian monasteries since the 8th century. It is claimed that the recipe followed her with her venetian cooks from her roots in Italy. Rather than the grandeur we associate with the French gastronomical world, they had such a humble beginning, with the affectionate nickname ‘priests’ bellybuttons’. Then during the French Revolution a group of Carmelite nuns based in Nancy prepared batches of macarons in order to avoid starvation. (Now known as ‘Les Macarons des sœurs’). The French have claimed that the Macaron was actually first produced by ‘the sisters’ but this could come down to technicalities in the origins of the original vs the French version, or in using the period of the revolution and the enlightenment to legitimise their claims. Their popularisation continued throughout the 19th century with the infamous Maison Ladurée, a confectioners founded by two brothers in 1862. It has now reached worldwide fame and the innovation of flavours and colours surrounding the modest biscuit treat (yes, this is the right term, contrary to popular belief. This could turn into the jaffa cake debate…), with different cultures serving their own twist on the original. It is something of a global phenomenon now, yet it is still such an intricate, unique, and adored treat in its ‘homeland’ of France.
 
Why would we automatically accept and assume that such a dessert would have to have its origins in France, the land of the culinary art and gastronomical prowess? Well, it is just that. The automatic imagery we picture vectors immediately towards pastries, confectionary, cheese and cafés on every street corner – all with foods at its foundation. Our assumptions, nevertheless, don’t have any particular malicious taint to them, but rather something which is based off of fact, and which has been embedded within French culture for centuries. The word dessert has its root in the French verb desservir meaning ‘to clear the table’. It was a clearly defined routine to serve something sweet and light after a hearty, heavy meal and which slowly turned into a form of royal artistry, whilst still being accessible to the masses.
 
If you want to get a taste of the “French” dessert, the places to get a true experience of our generic, romanticised view of France, or Paris in particular, would be firstly Pierre Hermé, Ladurée, and Angelina. Or, from a particular trip to the capital, a special place in Montmartre called La Galette des Moulins. (How can you argue with the French when they even use the terminology of biscuit themselves?) Such a desert, despite its miniature size, has become a true symbol of the culinary arts in France, even if it isn’t, ironically, a truly French dessert. ​

If you want to get a taste of the “French” dessert, the places to get a true experience of our generic, romanticised view of France, or Paris in particular, would be firstly Pierre Hermé, Ladurée, and Angelina. Or, from a particular trip to the capital, a special place in Montmartre called La Galette des Moulins. (How can you argue with the French when they even use the terminology of biscuit themselves?) Such a desert, despite its miniature size, has become a true symbol of the culinary arts in France, even if it isn’t, ironically, a truly French dessert. ​

Emily Mactaggart