Macaron Monday

  

A macaron a day keeps the doldrums at bay.

 

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 The cheerful macaron, born in Italy and, it is said, smuggled into France by Catherine de Medici for her royal wedding to Henry II in 1533, has become a symbol of Paris and French indulgence. Though seemingly in almost every Parisian pâtisserie, not all macarons - not "macaroons" please - are created equal. These two-bite wonders (the originals were larger) with their vibrant hues and crisp chewy texture are, in fact, tiny almond meringue sandwiches, each filled with a silky ganache or creamy buttercream, a delicate dance of texture and flavor. 

For my tastes Pierre Hermé still leads the pack: he goes easy on the sugar and pairs creative and at times eyebrow-raising fillings (olive oil/lime; white truffle/hazelnut) that evoke Marie-Antoinette closing her eyes to daintily savor a slow nibble rather than a quick chomp. When choosing, keep in mind that the best macarons balance depth with sophistication, and will leave you craving just one more. - BPJ

 

 

Pierre Hermé

Montmartre boutique

27 rue des Abbesses 75018 

 

 

 

 

Easter Sunset

 

 

 Joyeuses Pâques 2025

 

🐣

 

Floral Friday

 

Vibrant bouquets brighten a historic covered passage.

Morning meditation

 Quiet time as the city of Paris sprawls below in the distance.

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Atop Montmartre in the tender embrace of dawn, Paris stirs. Cobblestones gleam with the first light's kiss and the air, crisp and full of promise, carries the scent of blooming trees as the city stretches beneath a sapphire sky. An empty bench to pause and reflect, a lone streetlamp and shuttered storefronts brace in anticipation of the day's bustle. In the distance, Paris shimmers, a silent witness to its awakening streets. - BPJ

 

Window Wednesday

 

 

From one window to another:

A small café across from a bookshop on a 19th century covered passage.

 

Treeful Tuesday

Spring in bloom in the Latin Quarter.

 

Mirror Monday

 

 

A mirror in a café near the Louvre reflects its royal roots, an ancient palace turned into a museum.

 

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This mirror is a tribute to Jean-Baptiste Poquelin, a.k.a. Molière, the 17th-century French funnyman who had King Louis XIV in stitches at the Palais du Louvre, just a short strut from his troupe’s base at the Comédie-Française. With his razor-sharp wit, Molière’s plays like Tartuffe and The Misanthrope skewered the pompous hypocrites and fawning courtiers buzzing around the Sun King’s court, leaving audiences roaring and, legend has it, the king himself slapping his royal knee. It seems Molière was a master at poking fun without ever turning his quill on Louis. The Comédie-Française was the perfect stage for Molière’s troupe to dazzle audiences, cementing his reputation as the king’s go-to entertainer, a comedic genius who could roast the elite while staying in royal favor.

The theater’s proximity to the Louvre made it easy for Molière to stage private shows at the palace when summoned. Historical records, like those of the court’s Menus Plaisirs (royal entertainment accounts), confirm Molière’s frequent performances at the Louvre’s grand halls or Versailles’ gardens, tailored to Louis’ tastes, while public shows stayed at the Comédie-Française for the broader audience.

Molière’s favor with Louis is well-documented: he was granted a royal pension and protection from critics, suggesting the king relished the playwright’s knack for exposing sycophants without crossing the line. The proximity of the Comédie-Française to the Louvre (still true today) made it a breeze for Molière to pop over and keep the Sun King chuckling, ensuring his troupe thrived under royal patronage. - BPJ