In which PhysicsGirl celebrates spring...

Today is the first day of Spring, and by no doubt sheer coincidence, it is also Macaron Day in Paris and New York. Sadly, I am in neither of those places, for I love macarons. Fortunately Nadège Patisserie on Queen West was celebrating with many macarons. No free samples, but all profits went to the Red Cross to aid Japan.

Naturally, I had to sample a few. I thought it would also be a good inaugural ride for the Opus. A pretty bike collecting pretty things.


Firstly. I love love love the Opus. It is such a lovely thing to ride after the Tank. The lack of rattling for one. The lovely resonating brass bell, for another; people actually get out of the way when they hear it. The ride itself, of course. I came home along Dundas West near Ossington, which is not so much a road as what's left over when the mole men come out to party. It's bumpy, is what I'm trying to say, and I hated the noise and the jarring vibrations when I rode it on the tank. On the Opus, however, it was... well, not smooth as silk, but certainly a much smoother ride than I've ever had on that bit of road. *sigh*

* * *

Sorry, I was having a moment there. About the macarons at Nadège.

Aren't they pretty?

How did they taste? Lovely. The cappuccino was a bit too strong for my taste, and I'm afraid the salted caramel had a great parfum, but was a bit too chewy. The chestnut, while a trifle smushed, was lovely and nutty. The poppy was delicate. The hazelnut/raspberry was not heavy at all, and the rose? Mmmmm, the rose...

I do believe a second visit will be in order. And a third. And a fourth... I mean, there were so many parfums I didn't get a chance to try. All in the name of anthropological research, of course.

in Just-

spring       when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles       far       and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's

spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer

old balloonman whistles

far       and       wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing

 from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's

spring

and

     the

             goat-footed

balloonMan       whistles

far

and

wee

e.e. cummings