Watching Sofia Coppola’s lush new Marie Antoinette, you’d think the party-girl/queen’s infamous quip was “Let them eat macaroons.” Because those pale pink and green moundlets of egg whites, ground almonds, and sugar are everywhere in the film.

Laduree, the renowned Paris patisserie, was Coppola’s pastry consultant. And I can vouch for the macaroons there, having worked my way through a bagful of violet-blackberry and dark chocolate ones while shopping in the 6th arrondissement a couple of months back. They were ethereal, chewy, melt-in-the-mouth bites. Happily, the area has two French patisseries that turn out stellar macaroons should a craving arise: Patisserie Poupon in Georgetown (1645 Wisconsin Ave., NW; 202-342-3248) and Praline in Bethesda’s Sangamore Plaza (4611 Sangamore Rd.; 301-342-3248).  Poupon does a fabulous pistachio version filled with pistachio buttercream, along with classic almond, chocolate, lemon, and raspberry flavors (all are $15 a pound). Occasionally hazlenut and chestnut show up too. At Praline, round trays are piled high with pistachio, hazlenut, and chocolate varieties (.95 cents each), all sandwiching luscious chocolate ganache. Besides traditional lemon and raspberry, right now they're also doing an offbeat--but delicious--pumpkin macaroon filled with pumpkin buttercream.

Of course Antoinette, though certainly frivolous and spoiled, never really uttered the ill-fated “let them eat cake” line either.  Coppola’s queen was the unhappy victim of 18th century tabloid frenzy — and she didn’t have a publicist to make it all go away.

Welcome to the Best Bites Blog, updated every day by The Washingtonian’s food staff.

Here’s where you’ll find the latest restaurant news--which chef just ditched his apron and stormed out of the kitchen, which celebrity restaurateur is looking to touch down in DC--plus weekly rundowns of the foodie events most worth your time, cookbook reviews, news round-ups, food world interviews, and findings ranging from our new favorite taco truck to macaroons Marie Antoinette would love.

Got news or tips on anything food-related? Send ‘em to Ann Limpert (alimpert@washingtonian.com).

 

    Banish been there done that from your life — at least when you give a dinner party. Indian is so last year and  pan-Asian and regional Italian positively prehistoric. You could go the comfort route with grandmotherly chicken a la king (doily on the plate, natch), but what’s that gonna do for your culinary cred? Better to pick up Marcus Samuelsson’s glossy photo-filled new tome on African cooking, open to any page and fire up the stove. Though the title--The Soul of a New Cuisine--may scream earnest snoozer, the sometimes traditional, sometimes tweaked recipes are anything but.

Samuelsson, better known as the hunky Swedish chef from New York’s Aquavit, went on an eating journey to discover his roots — born in Ethiopia, he and his sister were adopted by a Swedish family when they were children. Some recipes like the fiery Ethiopian stir-fried beef stew (really tibs wett) are channeled from the kitchens of home cooks. Others, like the spiced egg salad with chilies, peanuts, and ginger, are pure Samuelsson — inspired by native flavors rather than a dish you’d find anywhere in Africa. And though Samuelsson includes recipes for spice blends that are called for throughout, he offers cheaters ready substitutes, like chili powder for the 12-ingredient berbere, making the cooking, and ultimately the cuisine, accessible to all.                                               

Few feel the pressure of a dinner party like a food critic. But with recipes for malaga, an offbeat Senegalese clam stew, spicy trout spaghetti (the result of the brief Italian occupation of Ethiopia in 1936), colorful Piri Piri shrimp from Mozambique, and the classic chicken peanut stew that's a West African staple on my bookshelf, I’m ready to take on the snarkiest of friends.

The Soul of a New Cuisine, Wiley, $40.  

When trick-or-treaters are lucky enough to stumble upon the home of a chef, what will get dropped into their plastic pumpkin? Homemade truffles, perhaps? We asked local chefs with kids of their own what they hand out on Halloween.

Cathal Armstrong, Restaurant Eve and Eamonn's: A Dublin Chipper : “We make some cookies with the kids, and decorate them with orange and black frosting to give out to trick-or-treaters. It’s just a shortbread cookie. We have cookie cutters in ghost shapes and jack-o-lanterns.”

Todd Grey, Equinox: “Reese’s peanut butter cups. They’re a favorite of all of us, not just our son. Snickers is a close second. And we give out full size. No 'fun size' here."

Brendan Cox, Circle Bistro: “I’m in a condo, so we don’t get many trick-or-treaters. We take our kids about a mile away, to Old Town. But I’m a huge fan of candy corn."

Jeff Black, Black's Bar and Kitchen: “ We live in 150 year-old farmhouse in Kensington, and the neighbors before we moved in thought the house was haunted. No kids come to our house. We do get a mix of candy to give out, but I just end up eating it all. I have a terrible sweet tooth, I love pretty much anything chocolate.”

Jamie Leeds, Hank's Oyster Bar: "Usually it's just candy corn. A personal favorite."

Ris Lacoste, formerly of 1789: "Snickers, hand down. And the big stuff—not those fun-sized candy bars. I can appreciate the homemade treats like candy apples and cider at some houses, but deep down, I just want the Snickers bar...My last ten or so Halloweens were spent at the '89, where we handed out our own candy--my homemade pumpkin ravioli. Since the diners were my neighbors and friends, they were practically my own trick-or-treaters.

Jonathan Krinn, 2941: “My pastry chef Clarice makes something with peanut butter and chocolate that we call Clarice’s Pieces. I eat most of it and give one or two out to the kids. They're made with chocolate and peanut butter, and they're very addictive.”

On that note, here's 2941 pastry chef Clarice Lelle's recipe: