Unlike pâtisseries such as Pierre Hermé which pride themselves on constantly introducing new and unique flavor combinations, Ladurée takes a much more straightforward approach.  Most of the macarons are single-flavor, with a few being a combination of two, at most.  This emphasis on simplicity allows Ladurée to completely focus on ingredient quality and taste, ensuring each macaron is the best of its kind.

Not only does Ladurée have the most true-to-life flavors, but the texture of their macarons is also the lightest and most delicate.  The inside layer of crème is modestly thin, preventing the cookie from becoming cloying.  This is also a boon for someone impatient like I am who sometimes can’t help not waiting for the cold cookies to warm to room temperature since the thin layer warms up more quickly.  These cookies are delicate, airy, and delicious.  They are the most mouthwatering cookies on the planet.

Downstairs at the Champs Élysées location, ordering a box of macarons to go is a very efficient process.  The counter is configured like an assembly line with one person helping to find the right size box and another to help fill it.

At Ladurée, moderation is very important; I try to never get more than 30 macaroons during a single visit.  The vanilla, pistachio, rose, and licorice flavors are my favorite, each one an unembellished concentrated representation of the natural ingredient from which the small meringue sandwiches were made.

The pistachio macaron has a pastel green shell with light brown specks. The flavor is sweet and nutty with a very subtle hint of salt. The texture is a bit more gritty than the other macarons, a reminder that this cookie does come from ground nuts.

A floral aroma dominates the rose macaron, with a subtle flavor of vanilla.  Unlike other rose flavor sweets, there is not the slightest bit of soapiness.

I think the most interesting flavor is the ink-black réglisse macaron, or licorice, a flavor that combines the sweetness of vanilla with the cool mouthfeel of licorice.  I don’t really like licorice and generally try to avoid it, but for some reason the licorice macarons are absolutely incredible, I believe one of the greatest dessert pastry flavors ever created.

Upstairs at the Champs Élysées location lies the tea room. It feels a bit like stepping back in time to Paris’ belle époque: opulent gold leaf leads to delicate porcelain and an eclectic mix of antique chairs suitable for royalty.  The service upstairs is a bit more “relaxed” than downstairs, so be sure to leave plenty of time for afternoon brunch.

Ladurée has the finest macarons in the world, but they also have excellent pastries.  Pastries are baked in the morning, so try to arrive early if you plan on ordering croissants.  The croissants are buttery and flaky with a unique cavernous interior that makes them appear extraordinary large.

The pain au chocolat aux amande, piped with a green almond paste and thin layer of dark chocolate, is nonpareil.  Unlike most croissants aux amandes which recycle day’s old croissants by re-baking them with a layer of sticky frangipane, these are fresh, crispy, and flaky.  These are some of the only almond croissants in the city that are not are not flooded with powdered sugar.

Ladurée’s kouglof amande, a sweet brioche of raisin and almond sprinkled with sugar, is phenomenal.  When freshly baked in the morning it retains moisture like a sponge without the slightest hint of dryness.  Hard to imagine a pastry that pairs better with a cup of French Press coffee.

When Pierre Hermé was still the executive chef at Ladurée he created the recipe for the Ispahan, a giant raspberry macaron sandwiching a rose water crème dotted with lychee. When Chef Hermé left to open his own shop, Ladurée retained the recipe along with the right to continue producing it. This pastry is a wonderful balance of flavors and is quite beautiful, but the even more impressive ispahan left along with Pierre Hermé.

Ladurée will always hold a special place in my stomach.  No matter what crazy or inventive flavors competing bakeries create, Ladurée remains a beacon for consistency and unequaled taste.  It is truly one of the most magnificent bakeries in the world.

Related Posts:

• Pierre Hermé
• A Croissant Tour of Paris
• Ladurée
• A Baguette Tour of Paris
• Alain Ducasse

I stood in a brief line at the St. Germain Ladurée amongst my hungry international peers, each waiting to bring home a box of happiness in the form of miniature cookies. There was a very impressive selection of macarons, over seventeen flavors, in fact. In addition to the macarons were rows of colorful tartes and tempting butter-striped pastries. Decisions, decisions. Thankfully, there were several people in front of me and I had time to mentally choose a few of my favorite treats before being served. There was no tasting menu, or any other socially acceptable excuse for satisfying my hunger, so I decided to create my own tasting: two of every macaron, three tartes, a millefeuille, two croissants, and a cannelé. Indeed, I kept it light this time. I decided to take the long way home, carrying my bag in both arms, fearing that the crowds of people on the main street would threaten the textural safety of my delicate delights.

I started with the rose macaron, two rose-colored halves of meringue contrasting against the pure white middle layer. The ganache had an ultra-light texture of whipped cream, making this the lightest macaron I’ve ever lifted. Despite this cookie’s floral flavor, there was no soapiness whatsoever – only a delicate flavor of the scent of rose. Sweet, indeed; but the airiness of the ganache prevented any cloying repercussions. This cookie brought a smile to my face after the first bite, the bright white ganache of the second bite smirking right back at me. What a pleasant way to begin.

Next was the staple pistache, a flavor that rests just in-between one-time inventiveness and daily satisfaction: I’m always in the mood for pistachio macarons. The color was just amid green and brown, hinting at natural pistachio color rather than the commercialized bright green notion of what that color should be. This cookie was only slightly heavier than the rose, perhaps due to the presence of small chips of actual pistachio nut. The ganache was still fluffy, a word that does not seem to exist in the world of Pierre Hermé. The flavor was strikingly similar to the ground pistachio nut, with a small hint of dulce de leche on the aftertaste. There was also a slight mention of salt, which made sure the sweetness would stay within reign. I could eat a lot of these.

Since my first two cookies were stunning, I wanted to follow it up with a flavor I have always hated, just for comparison. It came down to coffee and licorice, the latter of which winning because of its jet-black color and golden-green filling. Sit down for a second, please; because what I’m about to suggest might sound alarming. Ladurée’s licorice macaron is the single most delectable macaron I have ever tasted. I know how it sounds. “But licorice?!” I was a bit startled myself; so much so, in fact, that I later returned and tried a large box of only licorice macarons for confirmation. Confirmed. This flavor is special is because it tastes more like chestnut or almond than licorice, while still maintaining the winter cool fresh aftertaste of licorice. The cookie also smells like licorice. A strange discovery indeed; but, this was hands down delicious. A must for trying, in my book.

It seemed that intuition had been failing me, and I decided to randomly pick the next flavor: pain d’épice. This seasonal gingerbread macaron indeed smells like gingerbread cookies, quickly bringing to mind holiday imagery of turkeys, gravy, cranberry sauce, apple pie, pumpkin, chestnuts, egg nog, stuffing, sweet potatoes pine trees and snow. Unlike gingerbread cookies, however, this macaron left a tingling trail of spiciness, a clue that real ginger was in fact involved. This cookie was not too sweet at all, a characteristic I find pretty frequently in other gingerbread macarons. Also, for some reason, this was the softest of the macarons: I had to use two hands to take it out of the box as the meringue halves were sliding around – a clear sign of extreme freshness.

Praliné was next, and by the specks of brown in the tan colored cookie, I knew this was going to be good. And it was, having a slightly grainy texture – another reminder of the use of actual pralines. The creme center was slightly dense, like a chantilly; but, by no means heavy. It was a little pasty, in fact. For some reason, after finishing this cookie, the only taste left in my mouth was that of fresh pralines — as if I had just taken a handful of the raw nuts and eaten them. Nice.

Next up was citron, a brilliant lemon colored yellow that made me wonder what would happen if I took out my blacklight. The coloring was a little exaggerated, and certainly artificial; but the bright flavor of this treat quickly put appearances aside. The flavor was actually a bit sour; but the airiness of the ganache with the sweetness of the meringue made it less offensive. I probably wouldn’t order this macaron by itself; but, it served well as a palate cleanser midway between this extensive cookie tasting.

Continuing with the theme of fruit, framboise was the next victim. The ganache was more like raspberry preserve as in, certainly not airy. The raspberry seeds were left in which made for occasional bursts of texture as well as flavor. I thought this macaron was a little too sweet, the flavor being overwhelmed by the jelly-like consistency of the center. I’ve never seen a cream-based raspberry ganache; but that might be a nice alternative — particularly to make the inside texture lighter and less cloying. That being said, the freshness of this macaron caused it to literally fall apart as I began eating it, the top and bottom halves sliding around between my thumb and index fingers with a single bite for each bite.

Cassis was next, a fruit that, in France, is oddly ubiquitous alongside strawberries and raspberries. The color was a provocative purple, one that clearly stood out among the rest of the colors while not appearing artificial. The flavor was very tart. This was pretty similar to the framboise in that the filling was just too cloying from its preserve-consistency. The flavor was a little too sour and acidic for me, similar to eating a handful of raw cranberries.

I soon realized that it was time to take a break from fruit, and I headed in the opposite direction: chocolate. Ladurée offers two flavors of chocolate, chocolat and chocolat amer (bitter chocolate). I started with chocolat — a macaron that seemed as if someone had secretly snuck a chocolate brownie in between my layers of meringue … too dense! It was a workout even to lift it up, certainly the heaviest of the selection. The flavor was nicely balanced: a blend of sweet cocoa with a touch of salt, a combination that goes very nicely, I thought.

Following the chocolat was chocolat amer, the bitter chocolate version. At first, it was a little challenging to identify the exact differences between these two flavors; but, by the third macaron, they became apparent. The bitter chocolate macaron was much lighter with the ganache having a texture a bit thicker than heavily whipped cream. This macaron was also noticeably less sweet, which would be expected. I’m not sure that I would order any of the chocolate macarons on their own again, mostly because I’m not chocolate-crazed; but if I had to choose between the two … bitter chocolate would be it. It won both texturally, and in terms of flavor.

Fruits rouges was next, a blend of red fruits that was strangely similar to framboise without the seeds with what tasted like a splash of shirley temple (grenadine). If macarons had siblings, this would be the little sister of framboise — most of the flavor with the slight textural difference of being seedless. This was also not sour at all, and was much brighter than the framboise. The texture was jelly-based; but there was such a thin spread, and since there was no tartness, it did not become cloying.

Vanille. Wow. This was, frankly, incredible. Before eating this light cream-colored treat, the first thing that struck me about it were the hundreds of tiny black specks of vanilla beans throughout. That’s always a good sign as it indicates the full vanilla flavor will matriculate, rather than tease. The ganache center was a little heavier than some of the other vanilla macarons I’ve tasted, with a texture somewhat similar to room temperature butter. But this was not at all a bad thing because it provided a sturdy vehicle to carry the rich flavors. The only flaw I can come up with was that some might find this a little too sweet — I did not. Delicious.

I eagerly await the day I enjoy coffee flavored desserts and pastries; because, this certainly was not it. This cafe macaron, indeed tasted like coffee and indeed, I did not like it. The flavor reminded me of the bottom of a poorly stirred cappuccino with sugar — very sweet, almost bearable; but still, coffee. The texture was pleasant though, a spongy grey-brown cream with a slight graininess. The macaron smelled like the real thing — in fact, it scented my entire box of macarons with the smell of coffee beans. At the end of the day, I’m sure there will be people who enjoy this. It just wasn’t for me.

Something about salt and caramel goes together really nicely, and this was certainly the case with my next macaron, caramel au beurre salé, a beautiful marriage of the sweetness of sugar and butter tempered, and made more complex, by the addition of salt. The inside was sticky, similar to dulce de leche, which means that this must be eaten at room temperature or the inside will be too hard. Perhaps I would have liked a little more of a burnt caramel flavor; but I was impressed that this was not cloying.

I was intrigued by what seemed to be a vanilla macaron without the vanilla beans from above; but, contained a light green filling. It smelled a bit of citrus; but certainly not lemon or orange. After giving up on the flavor game, I glanced at the cheat sheet and discovered it to be Fleur d’Oranger, or orange blossom, the product of orange tree leaves producing something very similar to a citrus-scented rosewater. The texture of this ganache was like a light custard — light; but not quite whipped. There was no acidity or sourness at all, and while I wouldn’t necessarily say this had a bright flavor, it was sweet — almost like candied orange rind. It was interesting to try this flavor; but, I’m not too sure I’d go for it a second time … though I certainly would not complain.

Rouge Diva was certainly interesting, a mix of red fruits and gingerbread with the scent of chocolate. To me, this seemed to be trying to do too much at once, particularly because I thought the chocolate scent polluted the warm flavor of gingerbread with the candied sweetness of the fruit. The texture of the ganache was too dense and a bit pasty, which I suspect was due to the presence of chocolate. There was also a slightly carbonated flavor — hard to pinpoint the source, though I’m tempted to blame all things bad about this macaron on the chocolate.

And that sums up the macarons; oh wait, we have two hybrid macaron-tarte varities. Having been thoroughly impressed by what I believe to be Pierre Hermé‘s most expressive creation, the Ispahan, I had high expectations here at Ladurée. But while Ladurée’s Ispahan was a worthy competitor, it did not stand up to its competition down the street at Pierre Hermé. Aside from the subtle differences, such the lack of a sugar dew droplet and the wonderfully fragrant scent of rose, Ladurée’s creation hid the presence of lychee with an overwhelming amount of sugar in the creme center. The macaron component was also a little dry, likely a factor of the tarte having been produced the day before. The presence of rose was also somewhat a secret, something I would have liked to be more conspicuous. Definitely a beautiful creation; it just lacked a bit of luster.

Next up was the Charlotte poire et figue, a pear custard tarte topped with slices of fresh fig. I admit, I selected this because of the presence of figs; but was ultimately disappointed. First, the figs lacked sweetness of any kind. While this might have been due to their off-seasonality, I would have liked to see them a little sweeter — a bit of sugar would have gone a long way. As for the rest of this creation, the texture got boring very quickly — it was a monotonous custard from top to bottom with a soft sponge base. Something crispy, perhaps a light tuile, would have been a nice contrast. I also found the flavor too light on the sugar, which became particularly evident since the figs were not candied. After eating this, I took another look at the title which reminded me that this contained pears. Aside from the light green color, where were they? I completely forgot they were included.

I was starting to get a little full, so I took a brief break to get a glass of water and a wedge of bleu d’auvergne. When I came back, the thought of fresh fruit seemed really appealing, directing my stomach towards the macaron pommes caramel, a caramel macaron with slices of baked apple. Unlike the caramel au beurre salé macaron, the flavor of this caramel had a burnt essence, adding a beautiful dimension of flavor to the sweetness of the caramel. The combination of apple and caramel reminded me of a candied apple, with two pieces of macaron so my fingers wouldn’t get all sticky. As a textural contrast, hardened caramel was placed on top adding a crispiness to each bite. This was nicely balanced, both in terms of flavor and texture. While I thought this was the best of the tartes, my only complaint might be the excessive size of the apple slices — the water component of the fruit absorbed a lot of the concentrated flavor of the caramel and meringue. While this did prevent the flavor from being cloying, I would have preferred that the task of temperament be left only to the salt — half-sized or third-sized slices of apple would have done this well.

Last for the miniature tartes was the St. Honoré, a light puff pastry made heavy with caramel and topped with chantilly. Unfortunately, this has an incredibly short shelf-life. By the time I ate it, about 30 minutes later, the pastry had already started to become soggy. The caramel acted as a water-proofing seal against the chantilly; but the pâte à choux was attacked by the inconsistency of the caramel — some parts were runny, others were crispy. This would normally suggest improper storage; but considering I walked home in the cold and ate it immediately after, it likely wasn’t a problem on my end. I was pleasantly surprised when I bit into one of the three small pastry spheres resting on top, each of which was filled with vanilla custard. There was a slight salt and burnt caramel essence, making this flavor nicely balanced; but, I found its textural faults too distracting. I’d like to try this again, at some point.

Oh yes, the millefeuille praliné. Aside from the obvious macarons, I think it warrants a special trip to try this layered cake. Salt, burnt caramel, spongy nut-flavored creme, crispy sheets of pastry — this treat had it all. It was so light and delicate! Thin sheets of chocolate were replaced with praline, a much better alternative. I very, very briefly thought about sharing this with my host family; but, turned that idea down after realizing it would be impossible to divide. Too bad. Despite being at room temperature, the cool creme filling made this pastry feel even lighter than its already apparent weightlessness. Little crisps of caramel, salt, and hardened pastry were scattered throughout — keeping my interest with every bite. Awesome.

Strangely labeled a cannelé, this was more like a cinnamon bun with raisins then a caramelized bread pudding. But names aside, this would be a pleasantly moist and tasty way to begin a day with a cup of coffee. The cinnamon flavor was strong, and complimented the sweetness of the raisins and sugar. Despite being loosely rolled which, increases the surface area and exposure to air, this pastry was not dry at all. I didn’t find this to be anything particularly special, perhaps because it was overcast by the strength of Ladurée’s other delicacies.

Next up was a startlingly large butter croissant with which the butter stripes became apparent after the significant expansion in the oven. I’m not sure why this croissant was so large; I’m pretty sure it had double the calories nutritional contents of other croissants. While it wasn’t greasy or oily, the inside was very dry making it difficult for me to place it on a level playing field for comparison.

The highlight of the croissants, however, was the pain au chocolate amande, which is the most impressive chocolate almond croissant I’ve ever tasted. To start, the almond filling contained morsels of almond, making for a really nice texture. The chocolate was an ultra-thin strip adding a touch of bitterness to the almond without being distracting or dominating. Together, these two fillings tasted very fresh. The croissant itself was light, and despite having a thin strip of filling, I was still able to pull out pieces of the center with my two fingers — something I have never been able to do with any other chocolate almond croissant. It’s safe to say that I will be waking up early one morning, with the ambitious hope of trying one of these hot.

It is now clear to me that Ladurée has the best macarons in the world. Aside from an impressive selection of flavors, most of the cookies are texturally flawless obeying the perfect ratio of ganache to meringue. And while Ladurée did have some experimental flavors, such as pain d’épice and rouge diva, they still remained true to the simple flavors such as pistache, vanille, and chocolat. After sampling both places, I learned of the rumor that when Pierre Hermé left Ladurée he took with him his recipe for Ispahan, which confirmed my strong opinion that Pierre Hermé is clearly the leader when it comes to this tarte. However, in terms of macarons, it was perhaps a good thing as everything Pierre Hermé does wrong with its petits gâteaux, Ladurée does right. I think that Pierre Hermé gets the macaron attention that it does because of the innovativeness of its flavors — which are certainly innovative — they’re just held down by the heaviness and excessive cloying quality of their ganache. That being said, I would take the texturally perfect but simple elegance of Ladurée’s vanilla or licorice macaron to any of Pierre Hermé’s creative flavors, at any time.

And in addition to the macarons, let’s not forget about the millefeuille and chocolate almond croissant which were also spectacular — the millefeuille having a flaky yet creamy texture with a beautiful flavor contrast of salt, praline, and caramel, while the chocolate almond croissant tasted so fresh, genuine, and true-to-description that I was actually taken aback. For anyone on a macaron mecca to Paris, this is an absolute must-stop and, despite prejudices, try the licorice please, and don’t neglect the millefeuille. And for those who pooh-pooh Ladurée’s macarons in favor of the shiny new ones of Pierre Hermé these people are crazy I see where this opinion comes from, and I respect it — good luck with that, I’ll be down the street.

Related Posts:

• Pierre Hermé
• Ladurée Revisited
• Croissants aux Amandes
• A Baguette Tour of Paris
• A Croissant Tour of Paris

I stopped by just after breakfast, only to see a long line of hungry people standing outside. I tried to convince myself that this line wasn’t for Pierre Hermé; but that thought was quickly interrupted by the defensive voice of a macaron-hungry french woman telling me, “the end of line is back there, sir.” What did she think, that I was going to cut? God … who would so such a thing. Though people have been known to do crazy things while under the influence, of macarons. My stomach and I waited about twenty minutes before being admitted to this reputed macaron heaven. Upon entrance, I glanced at the extensive selection. This was going to be difficult. Carefully, I decided to get one of everything try a few things here and there that looked appealing. Since the weather was nice, and since there were no tables inside, my friend and I headed to the Luxembourg garden with our four boxes and three bags of reasonable amount of pastries to eat à l’extérieur.

We found a nice bench in the sun, and decided to start with the macarons, clearly, a beautiful assortment of pastel-colored treats. The first victim was the Truffe Blanche & Noisette, a glittering tiny cookie of white truffle and hazelnut. The surface literally shimmered in the sunlight, the sparkling film transferring to my fingers which soon became iridescent as well. There was quite a bit of crème in this cookie. Nearly a third of the cookie, perhaps more, consisted of this crème layer. This made the cookie somewhat dense and, as a result, a bit heavy. The first bite was indeed pleasant, the savory taste of truffle followed by a cool and sweet vanilla crème finish. But, while the flavor was enjoyable for the first bite, the excessive amount of crème became cloying.

As for the beautifully colored Rose macaron, it should be noted that I generally dislike Rose-flavored macarons. In fact, I cannot recall anything rose that I would willingly order a second time. This macaron was the exception. It was exquisite; essentially a light crème flavored macaron with a slight hint of rose petal. Its scent, paradoxically, was nothing of rose; but the flavor was there! It tasted as I expected it to smell, and it smelled as I would have expected it to taste not knowing that it was rose, that is. Frankly, this was the first rose macaron I’ve tasted that was not reminiscent of soap, a memorable feat in my book. This was the highlight of the Pierre Hermé macarons, for me. And, unfortunately with the other macarons, it was sort of downhill from here.

Next up was Infiniment Vanille, or infinite vanilla. It should be said that vanilla and pistachio are my two staple flavors for comparison, so I certainly looked forward to this. Sadly, it did not taste much like vanilla. I waited for the strength of the vanilla beans to kick in; but eventually, I gave up waiting. It was really bland, and I was disheartened. Additionally, and most upsettingly, the texture of this was awful. Despite having waited for the macarons to adjust to the proper temperature, the crème layer had a texture of refrigerated butter. No good; way too dense.

The fourth macaron was the Mogador, Fruit de la Passion & Chocolat au Lait, a melange of milk chocolate and passion fruit. The texture of the crème was heavy, very similar to cake batter — way too pasty! That being said, the flavor was a balanced mix of chocolate and fruit, with the first taste being of bittersweet chocolate, and the second being the sweetness of passion fruit on the finish. This was not at all excessively sweet and, as said in the three little bears, it was just right. The cocoa powder dusted shell, while pretty, certainly did make a mess! But I can certainly sacrifice a clean shirt for some macarons anytime.

Next came my second staple flavor, and generally my favorite, pistachio. This macaron would be a little different, however, as the ganache was of white chocolate rather than pistachio. Perhaps that’s what made this excessively sweet. The taste of pistachio was somewhat muted as this tasted a bit more like vanilla than pistachio. The green color of the inside was also very bright, which felt overly artificial. There was slightly less ganache in this macaron, which made it more texturally appealing; but the flavor was just too sweet.

I first thought I had accidentally purchased double pistachio macarons; but after the first bite, I was very quickly reminded that there was indeed another green flavor: olive. This macaron, titled Huile d’Olive & Vanille, was surprisingly tasty at first. Mainly because it tasted like essence of olive rather than actually tasting like an olive. But, this quickly changed when there was a solid piece of green olive in my cookie. What the? This flavor completely assulted any sweetness of the cookie, the acidity of which cut through any form of pleasantness this cookie had to offer. There was also a bit of a metalic aftertaste that irritated me. Eesh.

The final three macarons were up, and I began this countdown with chocolate. So thick! I couldn’t help but think of a marshmallow-less s’more, a bar of chocolate placed between two cookies. Why was this chocolate so thick? Where was the crème? Where was the love?! This did indeed taste like chocolate; but it didn’t taste so much like macaron. Too much chocolate!

Oh god, chestnuts. I do indeed have a strong attraction to chestnuts. The next macaron was of chestnut and matcha green tea. I was disappointed that they did not have just chestnut; but I kept an open-mind and embraced the new flavor. But the texture was awful. The pastiness of the matcha green tea weighed down the entire cookie, the texture of which was very similar to marzipan; only a vibrant green. Too heavy for a macaron, I think. The green tea flavor also removed the distinct whisper of autumn that chestnuts give. I couldn’t consider the green tea anything more than a distraction.

The macaron degustacion finished on a higher note, with a Pléntitude Chocolat & Caramel, a dual-colored macaron with a chocolate top and caramel bottom. My friend commented that this had a slightly burnt taste, which I appreciated very much, as the combination of this flavor with the fleur de sel really grounded this cookie and prevented it from falling off the cliff of too sweet. Caramel on the edge of burnt, with fleur de sel, is a brilliant combination. The texture was still a little too dense for me, with a significantly thick layer of crème; but the flavor was wonderful.

Finishing up with the macarons, we moved on to the cannelé. My favorite cannelés are at Petrossian Bakery in New York. I do have a small theory that tap water drastically effects the flavor of cannelé, which could possibly explain why New York’s Petrossian bakery has the most delicious cannelé; but, texture is also crucially important and somehow, Petrossian always gets that right. For me, the magical part of cannelé is the first bite through the outside layer, which if made properly, is chewy and tight at the same time. A cannelé should never be dry, and the inside should be so rife with moisture, like a fresh bread pudding. This cannelé was very dry, likely a factor of my arrival at the store in the early afternoon. The shell was crispy and began to flake. I almost wanted to take a spoon and scoop out the inside, which was indeed tasty.

Next up was the plain butter croissant. The artisanship of this pastry was very clear: a thousand fine layers blanketed together with butter in the shape of a crescent. Maybe I arrived too late because this was parched! Granted, there was a shatter effect; but I had to forcibly break this thing apart, with both hands! Pulling or tearing would not suffice. Ouch.

The almond croissant was a bit more interesting: perhaps the icing acted as an insulator locking in the moisture. But while the texture was a bit fresher, the distribution of almonds was a thin tube throughout the croissant, making each bite very uneven. Aside from that, the icing was wildly sweet, evocative of cake frosting. While definitely more enjoyable than the butter croissant, this was too sweet for me.

And now for what I believe to be the golden jewels of Pierre Hermé, the tartes. At least all of the three that I sampled were magnificent. Oh god. The first off was titled Désiré, what I believe to be a round pistachio-crusted lemon crème, layered with wild strawberry and banana compotes, supported with a lemon-accented biscuit, and garnished with whole wild strawberries. At first glance, this looked like it would be dense; but then, I lifted it up. Extremely light! The ground pistachio let me poke the outside without the crème sticking to my fingers, the resilience of which was much like prodding an ultra-soft marshmallow. Oops, I poked too hard … looks like I get the first taste; oh well. What a pleasant balance of textures! This dish was carefully thought out. This dish was by no means monotonous. Each soft bite was sprinkled with the crunch from the pistachios and finished with the lemon biscuit at the bottom. There was no one particular flavor that dominated, the banana, lemon, and strawberry joining together. The bites with wild strawberry were particularly fresh, a reminder that sometimes nature supplies quite wonderful ingredients that don’t need modification. Mmm.

The Victoria was next, an almond dacquoise crowned with a pile of fresh pineapple, mint leaves, lime zest, and coconut atop a coconut crème. My first bite of this was a reminder of summer, a cool refreshing splash of succulent pineapple and mint, with the comfort of coconut crème. Essentially, this was the piña colada of tartes, with a very balanced flavor profile: those black specks are not vanilla beans. It’s black pepper. It sounds startling, I know; but don’t hate. Those specks added a hint of spice that made this impressively more complex. It should also be noted that there was not a single dry part on this entire tarte — every single corner was teeming with moisture. Another hit, in my book!

But, save the best for last. Isaphan – biscuit macaron à la rose, crème aux pétales de rose, framboises entières, avec letchis. This rose macaron was filled with rose petal crème, whole raspberries, and lychees! What an engaging combination: rose and lychee. But before we get to flavor, this presentation was visually gorgeous, especially the sugar “dew” that beaded on the rose petal sitting atop. Beautiful. The raspberries were flawless as well, and aligned perectly with the hollow-side down. It became clear very early on the level of care and intricacy that went into this. The flavor was also stunning — a gentle rose crème which tasted like vanilla but smelled mildly like rose, accented by the crisp lychee and raspberry, with the ultra-fresh meringue from the macaron. Something about eating this just felt delicate and elegant, as if magnificence were edible. Amazing.

This pastry tasting ended on a relatively good note with the Kugelhopf, although candidly, it’s very quickly put in its place by the one I had at Alain Ducasse. I thought this was excessively sweet, which can be seen by the excessive amount of sugar. In addition, this Kugelhopf had quite a few raisins, which only amplified the sweetness. It was a little dry by the time it met its maker, with the crust soaking up the internal moisture with each bite.

So, what did I think of Pierre Hermé. Did they have the best macarons I’ve ever tasted? Will I never be able to eat macarons from anywhere else again? Is it worth flying to Paris just to taste these treats? Do French people just do everything better? I would say no to all four of these (with an emphasized no on the fourth one). I found all the macarons (every one) to have way too much ganache: this is the Pierre Hermé trademark. Some people like it; for me, it’s cloying and makes these delicate cookies too dense.

Some of the flavors were very original, particularly the white truffle and hazelnut — I almost want to dissect it and remove half of the crème, that would fix a lot of the problem. As of right now, the best macarons still lie at L’Atelier, New York; although my pâtisserie list is indeed large and that is bound to change. I would, however, say that Pierre Hermé was much stronger with its tarte selection, particularly with the Ispahan. Were I to return only able to purchase one thing, the Ispahan would definitely be it.

Related Posts:

• Ladurée Revisited
• Ladurée
• Croissants aux Amandes
• A Croissant Tour of Paris
• Ledoyen