Monday macaron magic

Can you mix the decadent frivolity of Paris macarons with the mundane madness of Monday?

Yes!

And can you eat said macarons for lunch? As lunch??

YES!

I've had one of those Monday mornings where the rain is pouring and the crowds are raging and you arrive at your desk, ready to sit down and breathe, when your boss informs you to keep your coat on because you're going to a press briefing. Now. Sans preparation, just a few papers thrust at you.

Oh, and it's already started.

You're rushing down the street, zig-zagging through Christmas shoppers, Blackberry pressed to ear as you try to negotiate a late arrival. Your faux-ribbon shoelaces come untied. You bend down, do them up, carry on zig-zagging. And it happens again. Bend down, do them up ...

You then realise that the bus you thought could take you there doesn't go anywhere near there. So it's back on the Underground. Down the steps, through the barriers, down the escalator, onto the platform ... whoops, that's northbound. I'm not going home yet.

All you can do is laugh. You know, one of those mornings.

On the way back from the briefing, head spilling over with ideas, phonecall to boss just made, I realise I'm going to be passing Burlington Arcade. Home of Laduree. The Laduree, of Paris macaron fame. Should I?

I peek through the window of the tiny boutique, all shiny gold decor and multicoloured circles of joy.

I should.

I squeeze inside, and my mouth forms a childlike O. The gentleman in front of me, purchasing sugary treasures for his loved one, smiles. Pinks and yellows and greens and purples and caramels and creams. How. Does. One. Choose? There are two small tables outside and perhaps one day I'll come back with my beloved to stay and savour. But this is my moment now. I am only guaranteed the present.

I gaze upon stacks of gift boxes and rolls of ribbons, and I am giddy. The imagination comes alive and I am in Paris. Pretty frock, cute shoes, satchel ... and not a care in the world. Then I remember I'm en route to the office, not on holiday.

I go with a box of eight minis and don't know what to choose. Finally I decide on a selection of Rose & Ginger, Vanilla, Salted Caramel, Pistachio, and a deep purple spiced wonder called 1001 Nights. Into a pistachio-green box they go, one by one. Ohhh. And back to Paris I go ...

Is it for a gift? The shop assistant's lovely French accent shakes me out of my daydream.

I smile to myself. Yes.

Why can't we give ourselves gifts now and then? And go the whole hog and tie them up with ribbons? I choose purple, then go with pink when we discover the empty roll.

My box of delights is placed into a matching gift bag and I walk away swinging it in the November breeze. The rain has subsided and my heart is lifted. I smile at everyone I pass.

Back at the office, I steal a moment on my lunch break to photograph my double-decker beauties. I consider heading out for something sensible to eat; you know, like a sandwich. It's raining again.

Macarons for lunch it is.

Besides, they are sandwiches in a way - chewy meringue-based exterior, gooey filling. Just very sweet ones ;)

The Rose & Ginger is a little overpowering, but the rest are delicious. My favourite by far is Pistachio, which has an almost coconut-y kick to it.

I'm wondering whether I should make Macaron Mondays official.