Laduree & Lidia

Laduree & Lidia. Lidia & Laduree. I was a half a step away from continuing that alliteration and including “lovely” and “luscious.” I’ll let you figure out which adjective goes with which. Yay, games!

Sometimes, when you’re dealing with something beautiful (in this case, food), words are completely unnecessary. This explains why people are so often rendered speechless by the mere sight of my face, and why I can’t have mirrors in my house (this is a burden, you guys). So here are some photographs from last Thursday’s adventures with macaroons and delicious Italian cooking, with limited interruption from my giant mouth (except, obviously, when it comes to licking my screen).

When I die, I want to my otherwordly self to be sent here. After I’m finished haunting all those who have wronged me or withheld macaroons from me in this life. (Maybe it is time to rethink your whole, “You don’t need to buy the box of 30,” stance, boyfriend.)

She’s making this face because I had just asked if she thought I possess any discernable culinary talent worthy of more than concealed laughter and nausea.

And now, the meal, where I tried to capture each dish before I started eating it, but was not always successful. Sorry, it was just too delicious:

SO. Eataly. I’d been there once before, but just to eat a panini and have a glass of wine and a cup of gelato (just). And walk around and admire all of the imported olive oils and smell the fresh-baked bread. Getting to go back again and experience a whole different side of it was a real treat. The little school is a private kitchen with maybe 10, 2-seater, marble-topped tables (which I have been trying to hunt down ever since, because I need one in my house) and a curved island with a cooktop and prep area in one corner. Lidia, who is exactly as cute and sweet in person as you’d expect her to be, wanted us to call out any questions we had about anything, whether or not it was related to what she was doing at that exact moment. I got her take on de-bearding mussels, and boyfriend got a history of the spice trade in northern Italy and why Italians don’t use pepper traditionally. I learned it is perfectly okay to leave mozzarella on the counter instead of in the fridge, and that I really, really like Prosecco. The sommelier of Eataly paired a wine with each of the courses and gave us a history of the grape varietal and how to match wines with certain foods. Turns out, unsurprisingly, my palate is woefully ignorant to anything other than sweet whites.

We were each given an official Eataly folder that contained the menu du jour, all of the recipes from the class (HA, as if I will ever be able to recreate the magnificence that Lidia prepared for us), as well as wine tasting notes. We also were given the opportunity to have Lidia sign our cookbooks and take a picture with her. Hello, Christmas! And I totally got my moment to call out boyfriend for having a massive crush on her. YOU’RE WELCOME, dude.

Afterwards, we enjoyed a beer on the amazing roof-top beer garden while we waited for our bus home and so we could indulge in our high from the afternoon.

And while at the bar, a woman came up to me and asked if my Laduree bag was from the city. I told her it was, and you should have seen this woman’s face light up. I imagine it was exactly what I looked like when I found out they were opening in the states, only my hair has never been able to achieve the level of shine that this woman’s did. But that might have had less to do with macaroons and more to do with her superior grooming habits. Anyway, this totally validated all of the spazzing I did about Laduree and how much I stressed making the trip uptown for these macaroons to boyfriend, who ridiculed that anyone would spend $3 on something bite-sized and kept saying that it couldn’t be that hard to make them, he could totally make them, and are you really going to keep cuddling that bag all day? And then we got home and he tried one and then it was all, “OH. Oh, those are delicious.”

So yeah. You could say it was a good day all around. Understatement of the century.

Also, I love my little point and shoot, but all of the time I have spend adjusting the levels in Photoshop after taking them off my camera makes me wish I had a good DSLR again. I’m getting dangerously close to buying this like I’ve been talking about for months. What? You think I could go an entire post and not mention something I wanted to buy? Whose blog do you think you’re reading?

9 thoughts on “Laduree & Lidia

  1. I think Ladurée must be more friendly in America. I tried to snap photos of the colourful goodies in Paris and they barked at me not to and gave me the stink eye the whole rest of the time I was in there! Shitheads. Like I wanted their frasiers and cakes anyway.

    I did.

    I really did though.


    1. Oh, the French. The snooty, snobby French. I think it is a shame & a half that they robbed you of your right to drool, er, take pictures. Attitudes or not, I don’t think you get the same experience at a Laduree that isn’t in Europe, you know? The macaroons, though, oh mah gah.

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