I go on and on about croissants; I suppose, in some way, they're my madeliene. - XMASTIME
I've prattled on a few times about
Proust's madeliene. Now it turns out he might not have known
what the fuck he was talking about:
What can we glean from this passage? Proust's madeleine was quite
dry. It demanded not just a quick dunk, but immersion to "soften" it
(according to the new translation by Lydia Davis, said to be the most
accurate). And, you'll note, Marcel never bites the cookie. The memory surge is triggered by crumbs.
The Crumb Factor is the key to this culinary mystery. A close
analysis of the text yields the following sequence: Marcel 1) breaks off
and drops the morsel into the tea. 2) The madeleine piece then wholly
or partially disintegrates during its immersion. 3) Marcel then fishes
about with his spoon, yielding a spoonful of tea mixed with crumbs.
Running through this list of Proustian baking "tips"—which reads more
like a catalogue of baking "don'ts"—the great man's signature dish was
beginning to sound less than appealing: a pathetic, parched product, not
a buttery treat.
"You sound amazing...what else do you know about myself better than, you know, me?"
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