In Marcel Proust's novel, In Search of Lost Time, the narrator describes his encounter with short, plump little cakes, otherwise known as madeleines, in this way:
"... a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place…at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory…"
I had a similar experience with my first madeleine cookie in high school. My aunt had a coffee shop back in the day and she would always bring back leftover cakes, cookies and croissants for us. Needless to say, our kitchen was always stocked with baked goods (this probably explains my sweet tooth) and I would always eat them as snacks while doing my homework. One day, these unassuming plump little cakes must have been accidentally placed in the bag of leftovers and made their way to our house. The scalloped edges should have clued me in, but those details were lost on me back then. Upon my first bite, time seemed to stand still and the geometric equations that I tried so hard to ingrain in my head dissipated as quickly as the buttery crumbs dissolved on my tongue. Madeleine cookies are one of life's great pleasures or in my case, the best distractions from geometry equations. Proust and I are definitely in agreement there.
Most people start their baking collection with a cookie sheet or cake pans. My first purchase was a madeleine pan. Believe me, if I could line my walls with these shell-shaped madeleine pans I would. I've tried various recipes in the past, but I took a brief hiatus from baking and I lost track of the recipes I had used. So this time around, I decided to try a different one all together. I am a fan of David Lebovitz, and he lives in France, so I thought he would surely lead me in the right direction.
I have to say, these were more labor intensive than I remembered making in the past, but they produce beautiful madeleine cookies and they were well worth the effort.