lundi 13 février 2006

I do cook, in between bouts of drinking.

Can you refer to madeleines without referring to Proust? I'm not really sure. The two have become inexorably intertwined. But for me, Proust meant Albertine disparue, which was one of the LONGEST and most boring books in the world.

So no Proust here, no siree.

For all of us going to Paris in FIVE WEEKS, Laurie had a French movie night. It's such lovely coincidence that my trip overlaps with theirs. Can you just imagine the drunkenness that will ensue? Ah yes. And Laurie had tons of yummy French cheeses and tons of yummy French wine (and yummy shrimp, but not French) - I decided to contribute madeleines.

I followed the very nice and simple recipe here. And, these have to be perhaps the best homemade madeleines that I've ever had, if I do say so myself. It's tricky - many madeleines I've had suffer from being too cakey, which then makes them into tea cakes, not madeleines. Although yes, they are essentially little cakes, madeleines should not have the texture of cakes. They should be a little more resilient, neither too spongy nor too crumbly. A tricky balance - and I managed it, hee!

Ah, such perfection.

I don't know if I'll be able to replicate it either.

Egads, I might become just like Proust himself, forevermore seeking out the perfect madeleine.

Don't worry, I'll just drink more if that happens. Hee.

And Laurie's written about the party here, so skip on over to find out what we did.