A scientist’s guide to French macarons
What baking things that I don't actually like eating taught me about the purpose of my PhD
I do not consider myself a baker. I couldn’t tell you the difference between baking soda and baking powder. Do I know the basic ingredients that go into a cake or chocolate chip cookie? No. But do I have a big sweet tooth? Also no. For some inexplicable reason, though, I have become obsessed with mastering the art of one of the most difficult, delicate, finicky pastries: the French macaron.
Homemade strawberry matcha (left) and strawberry cheesecake (right) macarons
There’s something about their perfectly smooth, domed caps. The lift of their little “feet.” The way they sandwich together a filling and stack on top of each other to form beautiful displays. Whether the shells are tinted with a faint pastel, speckled with flecks of tea leaves or lavender, dyed with a bold neon, or even a multicolored swirl – this dessert has range.
Notice I didn’t mention anything about their taste. Truthfully, macarons are almost entirely about aesthetics. Sure, they taste nice. But would anyone really choose a macaron over a warm, fudgy brownie or a big slice of cake? Their delicate almond flavor simply can’t compete. Since I don’t know how to bake anything else, I entered macarons in a pie contest once and can confirm they did not win. If I don’t care to indulge in them, why am I so obsessed with perfecting their craft?
In my pursuit of mastery, I have identified nearly every uncontrolled variable that can lead to a macaron’s demise. The egg whites cannot have any trace of yolk and for best results should be aged overnight in the fridge. They should then be brought to room temperature and whipped at low speed, incorporating sugar slowly to make a stable meringue. When the meringue has stiff peaks that don’t flop over – stop – as both over- and under-whipping have disastrous consequences. When it’s time to add almond flour and confectioner’s sugar, everything should be measured by weight and finely sifted to achieve a perfectly smooth top. The batter should be mixed, or “macaronaged,” gently to remove just the right amount of air – too little air and you can kiss the iconic macaron “feet” goodbye. Too much air and the surface will crack upon baking. Batter that’s ready will flow slowly like lava off the spatula, forming a figure 8 in an unbroken stream. Everything should be piped into perfect circles of uniform size and allowed to dry until a skin is formed (don’t attempt this on a humid day). Finally, get to know your oven to determine baking time and temperature, perhaps investing in an oven thermometer to get the most accurate reading. Different baking pans, top versus bottom oven racks, and convection settings all matter and are rarely mentioned in recipes.
Homemade galaxy swirl macarons with Ube cream cheese frosting
As I whip egg whites on my counter, I feel like I’m at the lab bench, following a familiar procedure that I’ve messed up in a billion different ways. I expertly sidestep every pitfall to make sure I process my sample to the highest quality. Four years of grad school teaches you that a seemingly simple series of steps – in different hands, in different locations, with different tools and materials – can have very different outcomes. I expect that every first attempt at something new will be a failure, making any glimmer of success a pleasant surprise. The PhD can feel like an endless cycle of attempting, redoing, and refining. It’s sometimes disheartening that most of the knowledge and know-how you gain in the process will not wind up in your thesis, making it feel like you have nothing to show for it.
However, working toward mastering the macaron has helped me see how the ultimate goal of a pursuit can be independent of the end product. This is highlighted by the fact that I’m spending an awful amount of time and emotional energy perfecting cookies that, to be honest, I don’t even like very much. Reflecting on it, though, it’s because the cookies were the means, not the ends – the confidence, expertise, and self efficacy I’ve gained along the way is what has actually mattered. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about getting better at things that are hard. In the same vein, always remember that the real product of the PhD is not a diploma or even your thesis project– it’s you! It’s you and all the mistakes you’ve made, the lessons you’ve learned, and the challenges you’ve persevered through. After MIT, I don’t expect the problems I tackle to get any easier, but I will end my PhD emboldened with the confidence that I can do difficult things.
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