march madness

It's bracket time.

And I don't know a damn thing about sports, especially if they involve balls. (You can interpret this however you'd like.)

So let's talk about food instead.

And let's imagine that the French macaron is squaring off against the American macaroon. (Let's also imagine that I actually have a picture of the American macaroon, instead of a photo of two French macarons from Paulette, a San Francisco macaron "salon." Let's also ignore the fact that, based on this picture alone, it's quite evident where I'd put my money should a French vs. American championship game actually exist.)

Both the macaroon and the macaron are sweet and bite-sized. Both are usually made using a piping bag. (Both are also featured in the Wine Center's dessert pairing. Yes, shameless plug.)

However, the French macaron seems to require absolute precision, since the top half of the pastry has to match the bottom half exactly (unless you want freakish-looking macarons). It also requires egg whites, which for some reason always make a recipe seem more complicated. And almond powder is always involved. The end result is a little jewel of a sandwich cookie, filled with cream or ganache of some sort, with a fluffy, airy texture. (Or at least the good ones have that texture. The bad ones are sort of gummy.)

Meanwhile, the American macaroon typically involves coconut. And it kind of looks like a cute little haystack. The good ones have a very slight crunch but are still pliable. The bad ones are burned on the bottom and resemble tater tots.

However, given the choice, I would gladly take a bad American macaroon over a bad French macaron.

Yet when it comes down to it, I am a sucker for presentation. I am a No. 3. And for some reason, I associate American macaroons with baby showers. Therefore the French macaron wins.

I know you are surprised.

And I know you care. Because really, this is a stupid post and a silly premise. And the truth is: My brain is fried. This is what happens when you spend all weekend tying twine around things and calligraphying and picking out linens and looking for the right ring for a man who has never worn a ring ever in his life and thinks jewelry looks weird.

Did someone say madness? Madness!