Rockarons

As you probably know by know, I'm crazy for macarons. On Thursday Sporty and I walked past a nice looking chocolate shop/café (called Bon Bon, if I remember correctly). We had a look at their offerings, which included 4 different flavours colours of macarons and decided to return there after lunch. Having digested our exceptionally disgusting lunch (no exaggeration) and bought several items of clothing each, we walked back there through the pouring rain, mouths watering in anticipation of a lovely sweet treat. So much for the theory. I chose 3 flavours colours, being "strawberry", "apricot" and "pistachio". They were pretty and innocent enough looking, don't you think?

One bite into the artificial tasting super-sweet (well, o.k., that's not unusual for a macaron) substance made me pull a face. They were rock hard and had the consistency of a Crunchie bar. I ate "apricot" and "pistachio" and wrapped the pink one into a napkin to take home. At €1 per piece the price was pretty cosmopolitan. When I arrived at home, I took the rockaron out of my bag. Not surprisingly, it had survived several hours in my overfilled bag, just wrapped in thin tissue without a slight dent. Still, I thought I'd prove that I was not exaggerating with a little experiment:

'nuff said.

The (ceramic) knife just stuck in the thing without the surface starting to crumble or break apart. Having been brought up to appreciate the value of food and not to waste it, I ate half of it, but then threw the rest away.

Possibly the worst """macarons""" ever made. I won't ever complain about my own failed attempts to make pretty macarons - at least they all tasted delicious.