Treat of the Week: Ginger and Lemon, and Cardamom and Orange Madeleines

No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. ... Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? ... And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt Léonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.

—Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time

The above quotation from Marcel Proust shows the power of the little madeleine or petite madeleine--a traditional spongy, small cake from Commercy and Liverdun, communes of the Lorraine region in northeastern France.


These celebrated sponge cakes usually take on a distinctive shell-shape as they’re baked in molded pans with shell-shaped depressions. The texture of a Madeleine comes from the génoise cake batter (which employs air in the batter instead of chemical leavening to make the cake rise) is used.

This weekend, my mother surprised us with two different kinds of madeleines.  The first are flavored with honey and ginger and adorned with a sugar-glaze in which lemon zest has been suspended.  The other version that we enjoyed this weekend were spongy shells of cardamom and honey with a glaze flavored with orange zest.  Both were perfectly lovely—tender with just the right amount of sweetness and a lovely creaminess from the glaze.

I can understand why Proust associated these little cakes with “involuntary memory.”  I know I will be reminded of these little beauties for many decades to come—each time I see a fresh lemon or orange or feel the softness of the perfect sponge cake.

We enjoyed these perfect madeleines with homemade chocolate pudding and whipped cream served in pink crystal footed cups.  Needless to say, we had a lovely afternoon.