Think back to a time when you were young and spry and craved independence. It was the prime of your life, and you knew your future was bright. Then, you cut all your ties at home and threw yourself into this hungry world of ours, certain that the power of the earth would catch you. But, then after you jumped into the hopeful abyss you realized you really missed the comforts of stability.
This, my readers is the story of my current life. I have now recovered from the shock of living in a foreign country surrounded by foreign people, and have established myself in my own community. Then, my parents decided it would be a fun time for a visit and a bit of traveling. This was a great idea, but to be honest it rocked the individuality boat a bit. When remnants of your old comfortable life comes into your new independent life a person can easily get confused.
Nevertheless it was a wonderful time to see the ones who have made me who I am, and a good reminder of where I have come from. We traveled together and were able to reminisce on all the times of the past good and bad, and talk about the future as bright as it now seems.
First stop when your showing a newbie around Paris… the Eiffel Tower. Mind you, this was not my idea and sorry to say I believe the Eiffel Tower to be something worth skipping, and a waste of time compared to all the other wonders of Paris. However no one agreed with me, and so the first stop was to the Eiffel Tower to stare at it… and nothing more.
The Champs-Elysees is also a staple of Paris high living. I insisted on a stop in the world renown Laduree for a first time taste of their famous macarons.
Here is the selection I picked, they have staple flavors, and then seasonal flavors that come and go. From top left we have; Orange Blossom, Marie Antoinette, Rose Petal, Lemon, Vanilla, Caramel Salted with Butter, Pure Brazilian Chocolate, and Licorice.
For the price that was paid for the pretty little pack I expected all of them to be sensational. They were all good, but not all of them were necessarily worth the price. There were a select few I know were perfect and could never be duplicated by another society.
The Orange Blossom was my favorite and left a flavor in my mouth I had never experienced before, Usually I find that I hate floral flavors because they leave a sick perfume-like flavor in your mouth. But Orange Blossom was perfect and beautiful like a sweet dream. Marie Antoinette was actually revolting and whoever invented it must have absolutely burned off their taste buds. Rose Petal was also quite good. The lemon was nothing especially worth eating, as well as the vanilla or caramel although the clerk told me Caramel with Salted Butter was their most popular flavor. The Brazilian chocolate had a nice cocoa bite and was not too sweet.
I am a huge black licorice fan, and was therefore expecting a macaron that would blow my head back with anis shock. What I got was far from that, a very subtle licorice hint, but I found it to be refreshing. I also bought a Canele in order to compare it to the one I got at the Christmas Market. I found that Laudree’s Canele had more layers of dark flakiness which was nice, however the Christmas Market one was warm and therefore unbeatable.
If I ever returned to Laudree the flavor I would get again would be the Orange Blossom, all the others are good, but nothing to rave about.
I pity all people that do not have Mexican fathers or mothers. I didn’t even truly appreciate my Mexican father until I moved to France. Here I am surrounded by superb French food, all sorts of creamy sauces perfectly roasted meats, and blissful breads but there is something about Mexican food that fills your life in a way nothing else can. And I honestly don’t believe its just a sentimental feeling I have got because it reminds me of childhood. The flavor spectrum of Mexican food (minus chocolate mole) is absolutely perfect – when done right. And I can honestly say my father has no flaws in that category. Yes, when you ask him what a good NON MEXICAN flavor combination for a dish is he does say “pasta with edamame” and cannot tell a fifty cent chocolate from a high caliber Swiss one, but he is the king of all traditional Mexican food.
After months of creamy monotone French cuisine I wanted something in my mouth that would make me sweat, and would burn my throat till it melted away in fear. And so Daddy, with Mother’s help, got in the kitchen and made me and some of my French people some of his Mexican cuisine. Because of the abundance of French at the dinner table, and their inability to handle even the heat of garlic the meal was not as spicy as I had hoped it to be. It was wonderful nevertheless.