It was an impulsive act. Buying a madeleine pan on my lunch break. I had been wanting to make madeleines for quite some time, really.
As I walked out to my car, clutching the plastic bag holding the pan, I can safely say I felt a sense of relief and disappointment. Relief that I could now pursue the elusive madeleine. Disappointment that I had purchased a pan specifically for one cookie. I didn't want to become one of those people.
But then I started to think about the electric kettle sitting in the cupboard. I had used it a grand total of once. Once. Or maybe, twice? At any rate, it's a constant source of levity and a reminder that in order to purchase something there must be good cause and purpose attached to it.
Good cause and purpose. I guess they're one in the same.
Later, while I was following the instructions to a tee, relief finally took hold. I will admit to a certain amount of uncertainty as far as the consistency of the batter, but once the first batch of madeleines slipped from the pan onto the towel to cool, I was able to breath once more. My stiff torso relaxed. My shoulders loosened.
I had gotten what I had paid for. A shell shaped cookie. Scalloped edges and all.
I can blame the cocoa, but inexperience plays a role as well. I'm no expert on madeleines. Before that day I had never ingested one. I had to rely on Roberto for assurance that it was going down the right path.
He explained to me how the cookie should be, ideally. A crispy buttery shell that yields to a cake like interior. Cocoa does things, he had said.
I am now anxious to make a traditional madeleine.