point g macarons
I rarely use the word “macaroon” in English (I had to look up the correct spelling). But the French “macaron” is a different story - and seeing it on a sign in the Plateau the other day stopped me in my tracks.
The sign was affixed to the bottom half of the vitrine at the year-old Point G, on Mont-Royal Est. The shop colors are raspberry and pistachio, and the vitrine reveals an Eiffel Tower, covered in bright, round cookies.
The combination of form, color and language did just what it was meant to do. Standing on the street, I was transported to the Paris Ladurée macaron counter, smelling almond paste and pondering the magic of sugar and egg whites.
Macarons are not just French, but Parisian - as Dorie Greenspan so beautifully describes in her Paris blog. Lusciously perfumed and subtly decadent, macarons are equal parts cookie, candy, sandwich, and style.
The shop was sparely furnished, with two tall counters at the front; a cooler holding bagged waffles, jars of chocolate spread and other produits maison at the midpoint; and a cheerful young woman at the register at the back - or what seemed to be the back until she indicated the kitchen, half hidden behind her.
In front of her, two display cases beckoned. I concentrated on the macarons first, and chose dark chocolate, raspberry and pistachio (only afterward did I realize the subliminal power of the color scheme. I wonder if the latter are the most popular flavors).
Then I turned my attention to the 25 flavors of ice cream, settling on a scoop of red grapefruit sorbet - a counterpoint to the sweet macarons. La Glace (the first of three Gs) was served in an oversized waffle cone, with a tiny plastic spoon perched on top. It was tart, smooth, slightly astringent, and immensely refreshing.
The cone was slightly chewy, more waffle than cone - and a brilliant marketing move. Once my tongue touched the cone’s square ridges, I was back in Paris, this time at the edge of the Tuilerie gardens, ordering street food: thick, warm, crusty waffles, served on a square of white paper, topped with chantilly and melted chocolate.
Gaufres are the second in the shop’s trio of Gs - Gourmandises, i.e. macarons, being the final Guilty pleasure (Point G translates to G-Spot). After finishing my cone, I opened my white paper bag of macarons, and inhaled the aroma - thinking of the scene in Sophia Coppola’s film Marie Antoinette, where the sweets are piled high on three-tiered silver platters.
Biting into the round treats, I found delicate shells giving way to an ambrosial, chewy inner layer, then a sweet creamy center. The chocolate was the least sweet of the three flavors, indicating a good dark chocolate at the base.
As I sat at the counter sampling and indulging my memories of macarons past, passersby wandered in. Everyone admired the La Tour Eiffel.
The young cashier filled gift boxes with assorted flavors of macarons. She answered questions about flavors with unwavering enthusiasm, and seemed to take vicarious pleasure in each treat she handed over, each sample of sorbet requested.
Two pastry chefs, dressed in pink uniforms, emerged from the back. One had a thick pink highlight in his upswept bangs. Whether he was the owner, Thierry Andrieux, former chef at the Montreal Casino, I don’t know. They sat at the counter next to me, drinking water, talking rapidly, stopping every now and then to smile at the steady stream of pleasure-seekers.
