O B S E S S E D
With none other than? French Macarons.
I was determined to have macarons in France but alas, we were not going to Paris.
During our last few days of the trip, as we drove up from the Marseille area back towards Nice, we stopped in the very ritzy town of St. Tropez. Oh the ocean is beautiful, the bazillion yachts glitzy, and the trying-too-hard-to-be-seen folk being all...shimmery (?).
As we headed back and my husband about 5 ft ahead of me, I see a light green canopy in front of me with the word "*Laduree*"
Gee, that name sounds familiar.
I turn around and there's the store, in all its glitz and fame, with glorious macarons in the window.
By this time hubby is about 15 ft ahead and in desperation and in an alarming tone, I yell,
"ALAN! STOP!!!!!" (yup, strangers turned around. I did not care).
Of course he whips around thinking I fell or something but seems me with a huge grin and pointing to some fancy shmancy store.
It was kinda a state of emergency....I mean...it's Laduree
. and HE was gonna walk right past it. shakes head
At about almost $3 per cookie, these don't come cheap AT ALL, but since I usually don't ask for much he conceded. And well, he figured I might go all out preggers
crazy on him.
And I lived Happily Ever After.
by +Jenn Oliver
, +D. DeMonteverde
, and +Natty Netsuwan +FoodFriday