Can you remember the first macaron you ever ate? I can’t. It was probably 10 years ago in a Pierre Hermé concession in one of Tokyo’s depachika. In all likelihood it would have been sublime but I honestly can’t remember because the best depachika are like Harrods’ and Selfridges’ food halls combined with Borough Market and a Taiwanese streetfood market. That macaron would have been followed by a Sadaharu Aoki matcha opera cake, baumkuchen, kouign amann, kabayaki unagi and take home sushi that spoils you for sushi for the rest of your life. I do remember eating my first macaron in Paris, that was in the Pierre Hermé shop on Rue Bonaparte and I’ve been trying to recreate that moment ever since.

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It’s all the rage, apparently. Though something as well known and classic as a canelé is, in my mind, immune to the trends and foibles of the mewling fooderati. Let’s get this straight, a canelé (can-eh-lay) is not just a chichi sponge cake baked into that characteristic fluted shape. If the dark caramelised shell doesn’t crackle like a chewy brûlée hiding a barely set lacey custard then it’s just not right! It’s these very properties that make canelés so special. Continue reading →