Seattle Sweet Week Exhibit Two: Amandine and Pie

Amandine

One night, aware that I was losing my conversational French skills, I found myself trapped in a den of Francophiles.

I had come seeking Francophones, but only one francophone present, a vivacious twenty-something Frenchy with curly auburn hair who pranced around her living room occasionally making painfully slow and obivious pronouncements in French. (Regard! C’est un verre du vin blanc!) These Gallic exhalations delighted the other people around me, all American and intensely devoted members of some kind of Paris, Je t’aime to the death! cult.

The hostess gave an hour long powerpoint presentation, in English, on the life and fashions of Marie Antoinette that held the audience in members in rapt attention despite the summer heat and lack of ventilation in the packed room. The slightest utterance in French from our hostess sent a frisson of delight across the room. Bottles of wine and blocks of cheese were handled like sacred objects.

Four exhausting hours later, I stumbled out to street without having spoken more or two phrases in French. It was the last time I made an effort to speak French in the U.S.

This brings me to Amandine. Without the existence of the Paris, Je t’aime! fanatics, places like Amandine, a small bakery specializing in macarons, would not exist.

It’s not that the macarons at Amandine aren’t delicious. They are. In fact they are simply best macarons I have had. The cocoa passionfruit, with notes of dark chocolate and a creamy yet sour filling, is particularly delectable. I don’t even mind having to pay $3 for one, even if I eat the whole thing in ten seconds.

What I dislike like about Amandine is the blasé attitude of the place. It’s the sort of fancy-pants cafe that wants you to feel like its a privilege to overpay for their baked goods. Amandine’s Seattle Sweet Week was a case in point example. On the website it had advertised a Sour Cherry, Coconut, and Dark Chocolate Macaron Glacé and Pistachio, Huckleberry, and Almond Friand. When I asked the man working at the counter for the $5 tasting he scowled a little, as he usually does, and then handed me the macaron glacé, no friand, no explanation.

$3 for a single macaron is expensive, $5 because of the addition of a little sorbet and ice cream crammed inside feels criminal. Sure, the macaron glacé was pretty good, but it was not exceptional, which at $5, it should have been.

Pie

With audacity to simply name themselves after the product they make, you would think Pie would be committed to matching this audaciousness with a risky and memorable product.

Not really.

Both of their $5 tastings were fine. The company’s slogan is “You butter believe it” and the crust, rich, buttery, and chewy tasted as if it were crafted from butter with a little bit of flour mixed in to hold things together.

But both of the fillings weren’t the best, and great pie depends on great filling. The Caramel Pear Pie with candied rosemary brown sugar crumble was even sweeting than the name would suggest. Sugar Pie with Sucrose would make an appropriate name for the dessert. While Chocolate Bourbon Pecan Pie with bourbon whipped cream was more flavorful, I couldn’t really taste much bourbon. The pecans were very soft, softer than they typically are in pecan pie, which I think was a result of the bourbon, and for me, created an unpleasantly squishy texture.

Also, the pies were $5 a piece, a fair-ish price given their size.

The verdict: In terms of $5 sweet week tastings, Columbia City Bakery beats the fancy pants off of both Amandine and Pie.