The Story of Evolution; from Macaron to Tart

Posted: October 11, 2012 in cooking, treat

It is time for me to tell a tale; a tale of evolution, my lack of photos is somewhat embarrassing but it is a story none the less. There I was, decoding one of the many caption comics in the New-Yorker; searching for hidden profanities and whatnot when out of the blue the phone rang. Normally I would leave such a task until the very last minute – to give myself more time with the New-Yorker no doubt – but something different happened; suddenly a jolt of energy rushed through me and thrusting my hand upon the phone. It turns out that it was a fellow Lasquetian on the other end of the line, commissioning me to make her birthday dessert. I was ecstatic. I quickly flipped the magazine closed and rushed to the kitchen, and that is where our story begins.

I spent the rest of the night rustling through all the recipe books I had, the only request being ‘chocolate’ so I was forced to rack my brain. Hundreds of ideas bursting in and out. I slept on it. When I woke up in the morning I was certain as to what I would do: an assortment of French macaron on a chocolate dish, one dish per person for twelve people. I had miss-calculated. After nearly a week and a half of trying to create this delicacy. Using a variety of recipes and techniques I realized that my attempt was in vain. It turns out that it is in fact extremely difficult to make a perfect macaron. There was little time, so I had to improvise until I decided to make a dark chocolate tart with an almond crust. That day I made a prototype of the tart. It was fantastic. The next day was the event, I had previously requested the day off school so I was golden.

Then, at roughly 2:30 PM. Somewhere between pulling the tart out, and placing it on our wood stove. Literally hours before the dinner the crust fell. Straight…to…the…ground. I had trouble coping with the shock. I had no idea what to do; all my work just gone. After taking my time to grieve and whatnot I got my act together. I pulled some of the leftover dough from the fridge and started rolling; there was just enough. I put it in straight into the oven, no doubt skipping a step and waited. I didn’t even mind to pick up what remained of my tart off the ground. I just sat there emotionless until the timer rang.

I carefully pulled it out of the oven and placed it in its spot. I quickly whipped together the ganache filling and put it into the fridge for chilling. Miraculously, by the end of the day I had a beautifully elegant tart to serve for dessert. And that’s evolution, the evolution of an idea from macaron to tart.

That’s my story. Kind of cool. I’m just glad I could pull it off.

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