My baking experience is confined to boxed brownies and bagged cookie mix. So deciding to bake macaroons after seeing a cool-looking recipe on Pinterest was ambitious–to say the least–and it would probably end in disaster. Let me explain a little: macaroons are a bitch to make. They’re super easy to under-mix, and the cookies are notorious for cracking while baking. The internet is awash with macaroon-baking horror stories.
I decided to make Nutella Macaroons anyway.
Because I’m following through on my goal of doing the thing; because I’m inexplicably overconfident in my baking skills; and because Nutella Macaroons sound really freaking tasty.
I bought the ingredients, only for them to sit in my pantry for the two weeks it took for me find a day with spare hours to embark on the project. Then came a Wednesday with a bit of time not earmarked for anything in particular, and I started going through the recipe and gathering all the spoons and bowls and such when I realized that I need a new mixer. Why? I pulled the beaters for my hand-mixer out of the drawer and found rust where the finish had worn away. So I ventured to Walmart, found a cheap stand, and headed home, ready to get to work.
I laid out my ingredients on the counter before scrolling through Pinterest for a particular pin that converted weight in grams into things like tablespoons and teaspoons. It wasn’t there. I went through my pins several times and searched every string of words even tangentially connected to “macaroon gram conversions.” Nothing. The pin had disappeared into a blackhole.
The irony of the situation was that I’d passed on a food scale at Target because it seemed unnecessary with that fore-mentioned pin. Plus I’d already gotten home from the Walmart shopping excursion, and I really did not want to go out again. But I’d gotten too far into the process to turn back. So I cursed under my breath the entire trip to Target and back.
It was late afternoon by the time that I finished setting out all of the ingredients and got to work. Then came more hiccups. Whisking the dry ingredients together isn’t a substitute for putting them through a food processor because the almond flour isn’t small enough to fit through a sifter. And it takes forever in the mixer for egg whites and granulated sugar to turn into meringue the consistency of soft serve ice cream. It’s also possible to DIY a pastry bag for putting the shell/cookie mixture on the baking sheets out of a Ziploc bag (and for the filling so long as the bag is CLOSED before being squeezed).
By some miracle, the cookies looked okay when I pulled them out of the oven. I assembled them on my counter before stepping back to look at them.
The macaroons were misshapen in general and refused to sit up straight on my counter-top; but they still kinda looked like macaroons if you squinted.
Yet they tasted delicious. There was just the right amount of airiness in the cookie along with a satisfying crunch. The chocolate of the Nutella filling balanced out the slightly bitter taste of the coco powder in the shell.
Baking macaroons is just as much of a pain in the ass and time-consuming as everyone says it is. But–and I’m probably going to regret saying it–I enjoyed it. I liked piping the cookie mix onto the baking sheets and making bigger macaroons than normal. I stared in wonder at the shells when they came out of the oven actually looking edible. And I halfheartedly cursed while trying to keep the Nutella-filling from flowing all over my hands because I hadn’t closed the Ziploc bag completely. (Who’s going to complain about having delicious Nutella on their hands? Not me.)
Baking macaroons was a success. They’re not super pretty, and I made them the week that my dishwasher was on the fritz. But they came out tasting good, not just edible.
It’s going to be a while before I bake macaroons again. I’ve got to psyche myself up and find a free afternoon to get it done. But I’ve already found a couple flavors (S’mores! Blueberry! Raspberry! Chocolate Mint!) that I want to try. I like the challenge of it. Though I can’t promise that I’ll say the same thing next time I’m elbow-deep in meringue.