Frangipane

7 January 2004 at 17:59 Leave a comment

Now that is a great word. Let me repeat it: frangipane.

Yesterday was Epiphany, and it’s usual for French people to serve a cake, called a “galette du roi” or “King’s Cake” that has a small porcelain piece in it. Whoever gets the piece of cake with the figurine in it is “crowned” and become king/queen for the evening, wearing a paper crown and leading the festivities for the rest of the evening.

We’ve done it every year we’ve been here, though we always forget ahead of time that it’s coming. As happened yesterday, we usually go to the store and see stacks and stacks of cakes and realize it’s upon us again.

This year we were introduced to frangipane. It is the filling of a traditional cake served at Epiphany in France. Actually, each region has its own traditional cake, the one in the South being quite bready and usually with dried fruit in it. That is what I’d alway had before, but now we’re in Paris, so we went with the local tradition: a mille feuille dough (a flaky pastry) filled with frangipane, which is an almond paste/honey concoction that is, how do I describe it? Ambrosia of the gods. Rich and sweet, but not overwhelming. Very nice. They do lots of other kinds of cakes as well, chocolate or apple, for example, all with the ‘toy’ in them, but at this point I’ll take any excuse to have more frangipane!

Or just to say it!

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Entry filed under: eating, Paris.

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What I’ve been reading:

  • James Boswell, The Life of Samuel Johnson, L.L.D. (London, 14 King William Street, Strand: William P. Nimmo, 1876). 4 years ago
  • Marsilio Ficino, Letters of Marsilio Ficino, v. 3, trans. Language Dept. School of Economic Science, London (New York: Gingko Press, 1985). 4 years ago
  • Italo Calvino, Six Memos for the Next Millennium (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988). 4 years ago
  • Stephanie Kallos, Broken for You (New York: Grove Press, 2004). 5 years ago
  • Marsilio Ficino, Letters of Marsilio Ficino, v. 2, trans. Language Dept. School of Economic Science, London (New York: Gingko Press, 1985) 5 years ago

T. Anderson Painter

I am a misanthrope. No one ever believes me, but this seems to prove my point.

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