Originally published at The Telegraph
They say that you never get over your first love. Well, in my case it is certainly true. It was the Seventies, an otherwise forgettable boardroom lunch, Paris. Then came dessert, and with it the coup de foudre. On a plate in the centre of the table were the most exquisite little calorific concoctions I had ever seen or tasted: little round pastel-hued biscuits filled with ganache, butter cream or jam.
These were described as macaroons – but they were quite unlike the almond or coconut ones we had in the US. These were made of ground almonds, egg whites and sugar (but no flour) – something completely different, and very special.