Delicious Macarons: They’re Not Just For Passover Anymore

What the madeleine was to Proust, so the macaron is to me. Eternally inspirational and full of charm, the macaron is the rare dessert whose aesthetic beauty is matched by its flavor. It is a delicate and complex little cookie (entirely unrelated to the macaroon, that monstrous coconut lump) composed of two egg-white- and almond-flour-based cookie halves, between which hides a creamy, flavorful filling. To call it a sandwich cookie would be to demean the laborious process of perfecting the semi-spherical biscuits, which have a tenacious desire to crumble or fall flat like a cantankerous soufflé.

The traditional French sweet has only recently started gaining worldwide renown as the rising dessert of the moment, partially due to the much-heralded Parisian patisseries that continuously churn out new flavor combinations, ranging from violet-cassis to rose lychee. Ladurée and Pierre Hermé are two of the most popular macaron specialists, with the latter debuting new catalogues of flavors and specialties as regularly as one of the city’s many fashion designers. Macarons are clearly not a cookie to be taken lightly.

However, while the macaron is the reigning king of Paris’ patisseries, in New York it lives quietly and elusively. It can become a quest to find the perfect macaron in a town where the beefy black and white cookie is the champion baked good. But I was determined. After visiting Paris, I couldn’t resist the temptation to sink my teeth into the crackling exterior and gooey center of a superior specimen. The hunt was on.

The area around the 59th Street subway stop was surprisingly rife with macaron hideouts. My first sighting was at Bouchon Bakery (Time Warner Center, 3rd Floor), the small café run by Thomas Keller as an affordable counterpoint to his four-star Per Se located one floor above. While the café is sit-down, it also has a take-away dessert counter, where I found several breeds of macarons lurking. They were large and enticing—I chose the dulce de leche and cassis varieties. Although they looked beautiful, I was slightly disappointed—the cassis macaron was on the dry side, and the cookies betrayed a slight gumminess reminiscent of under-cooked meringue. The dulce de leche macaron wouldn’t stay together, with the cookies (which were rather on the flat side) slipping apart from one another.

I also stumbled upon macarons across the street from Bouchon at Jean-Georges, the glorious restaurant residing in the first floor of Trump Tower (1 Central Park West). While they weren’t on the official dessert menu, a complimentary plate of the tiniest macarons I have ever seen landed on the table at the meal’s conclusion. With three Michelin stars to boast, I assumed the restaurant must have flawless offerings. Surprisingly, the results were again mixed. The sesame macaron was very gummy, without the necessary fragmenting delicacy. The passionfruit macaron was the best of the lot, bursting with a sweetness and even juiciness that could not be found in the caramel macaron at all. I was unsatisfied.

After receiving a tip, I headed downtown to Tisserie, a patisserie situated at the northwest corner of Union Square (at 17th Street and Broadway). The interior space was impressive: bright and glowing confections went on for a mile, and nestled within the éclairs and tartes were seven macaron varieties. My strawberry and lemon tastes had all the right characteristics: they crumbled prettily when bitten into, and betrayed tender insides. Still, something got in the way of perfection. Perhaps it was the fillings, which were more jammy than creamy. The balance was off.

Dolefully, I ambled back to the subway, slightly disappointed. It was just as I was internally bemoaning the state of macarons in New York City when fate must have smiled upon me, for I stumbled upon Madeleine Patisserie (23rd Street, between 6th and 7th avenues). My jaw dropped when I walked into the miniscule patisserie and noticed the display cases full of dozens of macarons, in all different vibrant shades. Several even glittered with gold-ornamented tops. Reeling at the sight, I grabbed one of the macaron-only menus, listing twenty flavors from rose to piña colada. Despite their steep price ($2.50 per macaron), I indulged in orange Cointreau, caramel fleur de sel, and chocolate cassis. The perfection of their flimsy exteriors and lightly melting centers left me enraptured and finally convinced that perhaps New York’s macaron offerings were not so dismal after all.