The macaroon is a sickly sweet and squishy coconut confection

gives the English translation of macaron as “macaroon”. Or at least that’s how it is in my 1961 version. Let’s hope it has been corrected in more recent editions, because a macaroon is not a macaron.

No one would be all that bothered about the difference between macarons and macaroons if it weren’t for the sudden rise in popularity of the French cookie (which was actually invented by the Italians but, as Billy Wilder might once have said, let’s not go there). A simple etymological misunderstanding would not matter so much if the macaron had not started a revolution that sought to banish coconut pretenders from bakery shelves.

The triumph of the macaron has caused all sorts of trouble, not least for stage designers called on to decorate the set for Henrik Ibsen’s play A Doll’s House. Coconut macaroons have traditionally been used as the pivotal prop, but, as the writers of Nico and Amy’s Literary Kitchen blog point out, coconuts were not common in Norway in the 19th century, although almond flour was everywhere, so when Ibsen wrote makroner, he was more likely to have been talking about macarons than macaroons. What a dilemma. And all because a French dainty became the sweet du jour.

What caused macarons to break out of their elegant Parisian windows and mount a global offensive of Napoleonic proportions? Some say it is simply because they are French. In a Spectator article called “The rise of macaron mania,” Constance Watson wrote: “The macaron was once just a small cake whose chief purpose was to quell the pangs of sugar cravings. But in recent years it has climbed the hierarchical rungs of French cuisine, and is now seen as a symbol of La République’s culture and elegance. People eat them in the hope that they will appear more chic.”

Macron’s inauguration takes place today. If we don’t read about blue, white and red macarons being served, I swear I’ll eat one of those horrible coconut cakes. LS