Tu m'as manqué, Paris!

Voici la tartelette au citron meringuée de Manon bakery à Paris. It has a delicious buttery crust, and a delicate lemon curd (with an oh so faint taste of omelette), topped with a foamy meringue that will easily slide off the tart if you're not careful, so, faites attention, mes amis!

It was my first night in Paris. After a magical day of simply breathing the air and strolling the winding streets of this charming city steeped in all sorts of architectural magnificence, I settled into bed with a cold glass of milk, a madeleine, and a book on cabbage.

That night I had a dream that I was on le Métro. In front of me was a woman sleeping, stretched across the laps of her friends. She was fair skinned, black and had a young, fresh face. Slowly, she awoke from her nap and began to sing. Her voice sounded strange at first, meandering and crooked like a vine. Encouraged by the silence of the passengers on the train who like me were rapt w attention, she continued to sing, filling the train with a resounding poetry that was both beautiful and wise. It was the voice of Billie Holiday. We all leaned in like ragged paupers starved for art, begging her in our hearts to sing more.

So much more than a s'more

S'mores Cookie from Posh Pop Bakery

Hello, Friendly Reader. For the sake of continuity, let me say that "I'm back!" after an insidiously long hiatus because of work obstacles and computer issues.

It's been a long road, my friends, a merciless trek through the netherworld known as employment. A stultifying existence under the abject florescence of office lighting. And of course, nothing marks the passage of wasted time like the refilling of a stapler. Need I say more? No thanks.

Need I say s'more?

Today I bring you a new dessert discovery, from a new bakery. For those with a rapacious appetite for desserts, for those of you who crave conspicuous consumption of the most conspicuous and consumable kind, this is the place for you. Pop Shop Bakeshop on 192 Bleecker St. is a veritable crack den of better-than-homemade pies and cakes and cookies and brownies, and more.

For weeks I've passed by this dessert shop, rolling my eyes in annoyance at the small white space with pink neon signs. Why? Because it appeared to be yet another pink-and-white themed, overly sweet dessert place in this sprawling dessert land known as Greenwich Village.

And yet, on one recent bright, sunny weekday in June, as I passed by this very same contemptibly trendy bake shop, I saw a tray of large chocolate-chip cookies oozing with marshmallow. “Interesting,” I thought to myself. There was a lot of marshmallow in that giant cookie and it looked freshly baked. I continued walking, but my mind lingered on that vision of gooey marshmallow erupting from the desert-colored surface of cookie like titanium white magma. Would they still be there tomorrow?

Before I knew it I was inside the dessert shop ordering a s'mores cookie and asking the man behind the counter how long the bakery had been here. He said they'd been open for two months and were already known for their cinnamon rolls and monkey bread. Every cookie, cupcake and pie is made from scratch daily at the shop, he said, and recommended the blueberry pie and asked if I'd like my s’mores cookie warmed up. Sure, I said, if he thought it would taste better warm. He said he'd recommend a warm cookie over a not warm cookie any day.

I left the shop excited about my purchase. While waiting for walk sign to cross Sixth Avenue, I opened the white paper bag, stuck my nose in and inhaled -- my own version of vaping. It was a magical scent: the warm, slightly caramelly, vanilla-laced scent of a freshly baked chocolate-chip cookie. I broke a piece off and tried it. A triumph of flavor. Now THIS is a cookie, said my tastebuds. And I hadn't even reached the marshmallow yet!

Upon arriving home, I immediately grabbed a plate, poured a glass of cold milk, and brought my plated cookie to my work desk. I ate the whole thing; it was delicious. Dare I say the marshmallow was the best part. An awesome pairing, indeed. To use “Top Chef” phraseology, the subtle flavor of the cookie, together with bits of chocolate, really allows the marshmallow to sing. I love marshmallow. Health experts always talk about vitamins, but are they concerned about whether we're getting enough marshmallow in our diets? The world would be a better place.

The verdict: The s'mores cookie at Posh Shop Bakery is supremely delicious. If it were a movie, it would be a summer blockbuster you could watch all year round. Like "Poltergeist" or "Goonies." Pure goodness. And very posh indeed.

Slavery — NOT COOL. Enter Tony's Chocolonely's

They're big. They're delicious. They're giant bars of trampoline-worthy chocolate by a company I had never heard of until fairly recently: Tony's Chocolonely!

Where to begin. I didn't search out these bars, these bars came to me — via my sister who traveled to Amsterdam over a year ago and brought me back five large bars of various flavors (dark chocolate, milk chocolate, milk chocolate with nougat, milk chocolate with hazelnuts and milk chocolate with caramel and sea salt) purchased at a supermarket there.

Raising the Bar: Dutch-owned Tony's Chocolonely is making chocolate great again.

With their giant size, bright-colored wrappers, wacky font and avant-garde breaks, these thick slabs of high-quality chocolate take a sledgehammer to the flat, boring bars of yore and let loose some seriously fun, chocolate indulgence. And trust me, it's not difficult to eat a whole bar in one sitting.

Tony's also takes a sledgehammer to something far less digestible: slavery in the cocoa industry. Slavery, including child slavery, is directly linked to much of the chocolate that we ingest in one form or another.

To my surprise, this news has been circulating in headlines for well over 10 years. But it wasn't until I visited the Tony's Chocolonely website about a year and a half ago — because I liked their chocolate so much — that I learned about the abuse and exploitation that lies behind the foil-covered bunnies and melt-in-your-mouth-not-in-your-hands chocolate candies that we associate with the playful side of life.


Google "slavery chocolate" and the results are astonishing. Brands that many of us grew up with —Hershey’s, Mars and Nestle — are connected to the exploitation of children and adult laborers in Ghana and the Ivory Coast which supply more than 70% of all the chocolate in the world. Photos reveal children carrying heavy bags of cocoa beans; and articles report of child laborers being locked in rooms, beaten, whipped and slashed with knives.

It's nearly impossible to write about food these days without addressing heavy issues. Large-scale global businesses threaten everyone and everything that stands in the path of supply and demand. I miss the time when as an 8-year-old girl I could behold a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and marvel at its perfection without any humanitarian issues weighing me down. On the contrary, gently pressed between my pincer grasp was the candy world's moon landing: a beautifully engineered, exquisitely delicious peanut butter cup for all to enjoy. There was nothing but the miracle of life to ponder as the impossibly smooth and ever so thin top coat of chocolate melted beneath my index finger. That children should be harmed in the making of anything, let alone something so connected to childhood as chocolate, is deeply disturbing, and must be stopped.

How do we stop this? The good news is, you don't have to boycott chocolate, just the brands of chocolate that source their cacao beans from farms that use slave labor. And, note to big business, if any large corporations out there think people don't boycott brands anymore, consider this recent headline from Ad Week:

57% of Consumers Will Boycott a Brand That Doesn’t Share Their Social Beliefs

We who love chocolate must be vigilant in our chocolate selections. For now, it's ixnay on the ersheyshay and estlenay, and others, until these companies can get their heads out of their bottom lines and start caring about the most vulnerable members of their manufacturing chain. And until drugstores start to carry ethical chocolate like Tony's, you may have to buy your chocolate online from stores that carry slave-free brands.  (I don't know about you, but the idea of receiving chocolate in the mail sounds pretty freaking exciting to me.)

The power to bring about change in the chocolate industry is in our  hands as consumers, and the choice of chocolates we hold. With so many outstanding brands of chocolate to choose from, evolution has never been easier, or more delicious. In my unofficial research, I have found that some of the best-tasting chocolates are made by the most socially conscious companies. Is it pure luck that things often work out this way? I don't think so. Something in my gut tells me that love of chocolate and love of humanity are somehow connected. Tony's Chocolonely is a splendid example.

There's a whole lot more to say about this company and this topic, but, for now, I'll simply end by saying that if you love chocolate, you'll love Tony's Chocolonely. The bars are a bit pricey, but not a rip-off. They're easy to spot, and popping up everywhere in NYC.

Finding Mr. Good Bar: Chocolate bars by Tony's Chocolonely spotted recently at Bedford Cheese Shop in NYC.

Hot, Cross, Buns

 One a penny (plus $2.40): Hot cross buns from Amy's Bread

Hot, cross, buns. Rumored to have been invented by a monk in the 12th century, these fistfuls of holiday breaditude, which roll around every season of Lent, are exceptional with coffee or tea. Blame it on too much Cadbury chocolate and Peeps, but I didn't even know that hot cross buns were connected to Easter until I got hooked on them about seven or eight years ago as an adult. Before then, I had assumed hot cross buns were simply old-fashioned sweet breads with a criss-cross of icing. It turns out those crosses are crosses. Who knew crosses could be so yummy! 

Without delving too much into the religious symbolism, I'll just say that the hot cross buns at Amy's Bread are heavenly. No high levels of sugar here, just an ever so slightly chewy dough imbued with a soft whisper of spices. Pair it with tea, and feel the power of your own resurrection from afternoon fatigue.

If cupcakes are television, then hot cross buns are a book. They offer quiet me time for your mind and mouth. Raisins and currants may not jolt your senses the way pink frosting does, but they do a good job at keeping things from getting boring.

Attachments area

Attachments area

Langues de Chat Got Your Tongue? They Should, They're Chocolate!

Sometimes receiving a present from a friend or family member who's traveled abroad is just as exciting as being a traveler. After a recent trip to Europe, my good friend Margery — a naturally creative person with a gift for being colorful and expressive — was nice enough to bring me back a beautiful box of chocolates from ... Vienna.

Ah, Vienna! Land of Schubert and Strauss and ... chocolate cat tongues.

Vienna from Belvedere by Bernardo Bellotto, 1758

That's right, chocolate in the oddly-imagined shape of cat tongues, aka katzenzugen or lingua de gato, depending on where you are in Europe or South America. With a name that cat lovers will find either cute or revolting, langues de chat, as they are called in French, are elongated paddles of chocolate with rounded ends. 

Tongue and cheeky: The box cover of Demel's langues de chat 

And here they are:

Sharp-tongued: razor-thin chocolates from Demel

Beautiful isn't it? Like peeking under the lid of a baby grand piano and gazing down at perfectly aligned strings and hammers. Such exquisite neatness and uniformity, and all for the sake of enjoyment! 

These finely crafted, razor-thin chocolates are made by Viennese chocolatier Demel.  

But why are they called "cat tongues"? And what came first, the shape or the name? Did an 18th century aristocrat have the chocolates made in honor of a tongue-projecting tabby? Unfortunately there isn't any anecdotal information to be found online regarding how this eccentric name came into being. All I could uncover from extensive Googling is that cat-tongue chocolates originated in Austria and are a spinoff of cat-tongue biscuits, which originated in France.



                                                     LANGUES DE CHAT BISCUITS

Freshly baked langues de chat cookies from www.meilleurduchef.com

                                                     

Parfait: Raspberry Syllabub with Langues de Chat by Jamie Oliver

However you feel about the name, langues de chat chocolates, like their cookie counterparts, are the perfect — OK, yes, purrfect  — garnish for a scoop of ice cream or an espresso. They can also be enjoyed straight out of the box, when all you crave is one lick or two of chocolate.


Vive les langues de chat! And vive les bon amis!
 

Cake for Breakfast

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday... If that sounds tedious to you then you're doing it all wrong. It's too easy to grind ourselves down to nothing in this corporate-driven world. You must try and remove yourself from the treadmill—at least, once in a while. Not the gym treadmill, the treadmill of routine.

With that in mind, I give you cake. But a kinder, gentler cake: olive oil cake. Remember in A Moveable Feast when Hemingway went into a Parisian brasserie and ordered something along the lines of potato salad, beer and sausage? Just reading that made me happy. So manly and yet so refined. How Hemingway is that...

Too often we relegate foods we eat to specific roles on the plate, or associate them with specific meals. Yes, we've come a long way: salads with watermelon and goat cheese, frittatas any time of the day... But I personally still don't feel that I'm living the dream. I want to cook more meals for myself that speak to who I am as a person. The temper of my soul.

This is a breakfast combo that I feel embraces that sentiment because it combines two foods I love.

It starts with a cake that you bake yourself: Mario Batali's Grapefruit and olive oil cake —a very simple and healthy recipe as far as cake goes. There's no frosting or filling, it's just plain yellow cake. In addition to that, what makes this cake better for you than others is that it's made with extra virgin olive oil instead of butter and also includes bread crumbs, which can be healthier than flour if you use whole wheat bread crumbs. Batali also suggests a side of crème fraîche or whipped cream. With cake, I generally prefer the latter however, I'm trying hard to lower my dairy intake (I hate you dairy industry) so I gave it an ample dusting of powdered sugar instead.

It's a great cake to have around, especially for breakfast as it is superb with coffee—and bacon. I don't eat mammal, but as luck, and food evolution would have it, I discovered Applegate Farms bacon—the most amazing turkey bacon ever— around four years ago. It's all-natural, meaty and delicious.

Whether you're having a leisurely or hectic morning: Olive-oil cake and bacon. It's a delightfully rustic breakfast combo that compliments any sunrise.

Christmas Stollen, Happiness Found

Stollen fruit and nut bread by Hot Bread Kitchen 

I never expected, back in December 2014, to discover something new at the breakfast table, but there it was on Christmas morning: a short, lumpy loaf, swaddled like the baby Jesus himself in a thick blanket of powdered sugar—the very picture of old-fashioned holiday gatherings. Nevertheless, the calzone-size stollen remained untouched throughout the entire meal, overshadowed by a heavily frosted bûche de Noël decorated with meringue fungi, a plastic Santa-driven sled, plastic Season's Greetings and an equally plastic spear of holly.

It wasn't until later in the evening, propelled by boredom, that I gravitated toward the stollen, knife and plate in hand. Slicing through the powdered sugar wasn't as messy as I thought it would be. Back to the living room I went, to enjoy my sliver of stollen and coffee (brewed earlier but still hot), on the couch, in front of the glowing monolith that is my parents' television. 

Somewhat like panettone but denser, the bread-cake hybrid had me at guten tag. The cool feeling of powdered sugar on your tongue, mixed with the heavy bread, marzipan, dried fruit and spices, makes you feel all bundled up inside, and wrapped and warm and ready for winter. 

I had to learn more. 

Legend has it—a most appetizing phrase—that stollen goes back to the 14th century in Germany, where the existence of stollen was recorded for the first time in 1474 on a bill at a Christian hospital.

By most historical accounts, the Middle Ages was a tough time for man and bread alike. When I think of 14th century Europe I think of brown-cowled monks and giant cauldrons like in The Name of the Rose—the Umberto Eco novel turned Sean Connery movie that takes place in 14th century Italy. Of course, nothing records the general human condition of a specific time and place more tellingly than art. With that in mind, here is one of the most famous sculptures from Germany, circa 1325:

The Roettgen Pieta, Early 14th Century, Reinesches Landesmuseum, Bonn, Germany

As you can see from its heavy emphasis on emotional anguish and physical pain, this 3-foot Gothic statue does not suggest an era that would bring us the Cronut. In addition to the plague, Europeans of that century had also endured dismally bland stollen made solely of flour, yeast and water.

It took an official letter from the Pope, more than a hundred years later, known as The Butter Missive, to loosen the rules of Advent and bring butter to stollen. And you can bet your sweet marzipan that butter made stollen better.

Today, stollen, aka Weihnachtsstollen, aka Christstollen, is gaining in popularity far beyond the borders of Dresden, the city that lays claim to the original stollen and most-prized version, and where an annual stollen festival is held at the Dresden Striezelmarket—the oldest Christmas market in Germany. Dresden of course takes its stollen very seriously.  Authentic Dresden Stollen can only be found in Dresden, baked by any one of 150 official Dresden stollen bakers.

For those who have never tried stollen, if you're looking for ways to relax and enjoy the cold winter, I recommend stollen with a cup of coffee or hot chocolate. The power of a good stollen is its ability to take the harshness out of winter, transforming snow-covered rooftops and driveways into powdered-sugar landscapes. And, like its legacy, stollen itself is long-lasting. Buy it in October, keep it refrigerated, and it'll stay edible at least until March. 

Cinnamon Buns and Silence

A Swedish cinnamon bun and coffee, in solemn silence swallowed.

The Swedish Seaman's Church, or Svenska Kyrkan, is located on 5th Ave. and 48th St. While its neo-gothic facade doesn't exactly scream Eat Here, the Swedish Seaman's Church has received a fair amount of local notoriety for its homemade cinnamon buns. After being buzzed in, I entered the building wondering what I was getting into.

Once inside, I walked through an open doorway on the right, into a silent, carpeted lounge with shelves of books and Swedish dailies and school-library style tables and chairs. Could this be the right place? A small kitchen area in the back indicated that it was.

Glancing over at the short wall of books, I spotted a hardcover copy of The Odyssey and secretively winced. It reminded me of my failed struggles in college with The Iliad which, as a squeamish 18-year-old, I found offensively war-crazed and completely irrelevant to the mores of the modern world of 1988 which to the best of my knowledge was steadily progressing toward world peace through the good works of Bob Geldof. Feeling a little bit the interloper in this quiet, cultural refuge for Swedes, I had to ask myself how much I wanted this cinnamon bun and whether I'd feel comfortable eating in this bibliothèquish environment. Comfortable enough, I decided, and walked toward the fluorescent-bulb-lit kitchen feeling deliciously close to an authentic Swedish pastry.

The kitchen area was small, with a counter and a refrigerator. To the side was a glass coffee pot with hot coffee. Clearly, this kitchen is not designed for the heavy traffic of the Venti latte crowd. What an adventure! In a quiet, intimate setting like this, you don't need the meditation skills of the Dalai Lama to be in the moment, because you simply are in the moment, because it's not a giant corporate machine that presses forward like an assembly line.

I ordered my cinnamon bun and coffee. The presentation is very cute: a rectangular plate with a circular indentation in the upper right corner for a matching cup (yes, it's the details that excite me). The cinnamon buns are made fresh daily, but I wasn't there at the right time to sample them fresh from the oven, so, while the woman behind the counter zapped a cinnamon bun in the microwave for about 10 seconds, I poured myself some coffee, adding milk from a carton in the fridge.

Flowers and flags at the Swedish Seaman's Church located on 48th and 5th.


Having paid for my coffee and a freshly nuked cinnamon bun, garnished with a complimentary Dumle Scandinavian toffee candy (not something one always gets) I searched the fairly empty seating area for a place to sit.

And now for the taste. The coffee–rich and satisfying. The cinnamon bun–delicate and mild in flavor yet with a comforting, hearty texture. Awesome with coffee.  Clearly European in that it's not about the sugar, it's about the dough: soft, slightly chewy and mildly sweet. Definitely a far cry from Cinnabon, as pointed out by a very dissatisfied little girl sitting nearby with her mother. I've never had a Cinnabon but I don't doubt she's right about the contrast. On the one hand you have the Swedish cinnamon buns which taste like they were baked by kind nuns, on the other,  Cinnabons, created by brilliantly manipulative food scientists. Maybe it's an adult thing (can't believe I just called myself that), but I prefer the the Swedish version; they're probably a lot healthier, too. Who needs loads of high-fructose sweetener when you have sugar that looks like pretzel salt sprinkled on top? I don't, that's for sure.

Italian Hot Chocolate

Cioccolata con panna at Eataly


The most exhilarating three words on Earth may still be I love you, but Italian hot chocolate is a very close second. If you've never had it, then wish for it, aspire to it, dream about it, and by all means plan a trip to wherever it is you have to go to find it.

What makes Italian hot chocolate so good is its thickness and flavor. There are other deliciously thick hot chocolates around the city but they don't share the bold taste of chocolate pudding that Italian hot chocolate has. Plus, the longer you let it sit, the thicker it gets. La dolce vita indeed.

My favorite is the cioccolata con panna at Eataly—a tourist hellhole if ever there was one, but sometimes you have to walk through hell to get to heaven. Not sure if that's a paraphrase of the Bible or The Steve Miller Band, but the point is, once you have that Lavazza V-shaped cup of molten chocolate in front of you, it doesn't matter what tortures you've endured or crimes you've committed, salvation is only a sip away.

Left sitting for 3-4 minutes, a slightly thicker cioccolata con panna.


For hot chocolate so thick you literally have to remove the sippy lid and use a spoon when it cools, there's Amorino on University Place. This hot chocolate is hea-vy. There are many flavors to choose from, including Coconut. So far I've tried Dark Chocolate and White Chocolate. Both are spectacular.

Dark hot chocolate with whipped cream at Amorino

Same as above with whipped cream added. (How GOOD does that look!)

Of Mice and Penguins

Too Damn Cute: White-chocolate covered mice from L.A. Burdick, NYC



Let me tell you, ordering a chocolate mouse is very different than ordering a chocolate mousse. For one thing, you have to open your mouth a lot wider when you speak, it can't be mumbled. I'll bet there are some people who would never even bring themselves to place such an order, they'd feel too silly. Clearly, I am not such a person. And if you do go to L.A. Burdick on 20th Street between Fifth Ave and Park and ask for an espresso and chocolate mouse, here's what you'll get:

Speedy Gonzalez?: Espresso and mouse (also available in dark chocolate and milk chocolate)


Along with tiny mousse-filled meese with long stringy tails, Burdick offers European-inspired tarts, pastries, cakes, coffee drinks, tea and a heady variety of drinking chocolate. I've yet to sample their pastries but I assume they're good. Here's why:

One day while sitting at a corner bench, a lovely french family—parents and their adult son—sat at a table very close to mine. The son placed their order and returned to the table and sat down with his parents. They talked quietly, languidly, the father doing most of the talking while the mother focussed on closing the clasp on her bracelet, which her son, noticing her struggle, ever so gallantly closed for her. (Could you be any more charming?) I didn't see exactly what pastries they were having but heard the mother remark, "C'est bon ça, mon Dieu!"

If that isn't a golden seal of approval, I don't know what is. Who, afterall, knows pastries better than the French? Some might know pastries as well as the French, but no one knows pastries better than the French. And that's that.


Here are some exciting highlights from this extraordinary little chocolate shop.

As previously mentioned... PENGUINS!

Snowmen! (non-abominable)

Their Signature Valentine's Day Assortment... GORGEOUS!!!

And how many chocolatiers honor the birthday of Scottish Poet Robert Burns? Made with real scotch (the good kind), this manly assortment has plenty of burn of its own. (FYI, I'm speaking out of enthusiasm for the concept, I haven't actually tried these.)

Haggis Not Included: Limited edition Scotch Whisky Truffles in honor of Scottish poet Robert Burns.

What's in a Macaron?

BUILD-A-BOX of macarons from Dana's Bakery Photo: Katherine D. Lee

People who've had near-death experiences often describe visions of a bright white light, a phenomenon dismissed by scientists as a surge of chemicals in the dying brain. But maybe these visions aren't hallucinations. Maybe, at the threshold of death lies a sneak peek of heaven, and the gateway to heaven is composed of steep cliffs and billowy clouds of fluffy white meringue. A glimpse of a world that pristine and magnificent would certainly be blinding to mere mortals.

To that point, there's something about a macaron that really is a piece of heaven. Meringue is a key component of the macaron—mixed with almond flour to create a light and airy confection with a cream filling.

A top-tier macaron is a dance of blessed spirits. I can't tell you how many times a large macaron from Bouchon Bakery on my lunch break has transformed a stern cup of coffee into an MGM musical. Just one bite and you are Singin' In the Rain!

Strangely enough, NYC is teeming with macaron shops. A condition that I like to refer to as a Marie Antoinette economy. Goodbye delis, fishmongers, pizza places and all those other basic food stores and bread shops pushed out by surging rents. Let us eat $4 cupcakes! Let us eat gelato! Imported loose candy! And Macarons, puh-lenty of macarons! For some reason, they're the only stores that can afford to be here!


Now there are macarons and there are macarons. Dana's Bakery macarons are definitely the latter. These are fun, informal macarons, with entertaining flavors inspired by childhood favorites: Orange Creamsicle, Pink Lemonade, Candy Cane, Red Velvet and Gingerbread. The list goes on. I don't know how Dana does it, but the Orange Creamsicle macaron tastes like orange creamsicles; the Fruity Pebbles macaron tastes like Fruity Pebbles; and the Birthday Cake macaron tastes so much like birthday cake, you can almost taste the stray drops of candle wax. The Red Velvet macaron deftly mimics Red Velvet cake, I only wish the filling tasted more like cream cheese. (File that under First World Problems for sure.)

Dana's Bakery is mainly available online but fresh Dana's Bakery macarons can also be found around the city at various locations of The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Freshness is key. Ain't nothin' good about a stale macaron.

Even when I'm not actually buying anything, I like visiting the DB Website just to browse through all the clever and amazing new flavors available. There's always something specially made for the season. This month's highlight is... well... let's put it this way, if I know who's playing the Super Bowl this year, it is not because I know anything about football:

Denver Chocolate Peanut Butter vs Seattle Seasalt Caramel
Photo from Dana's Bakery website.

Popcorn Love

Click here for "Popcorn Love" by New Edition.

Growing up, one of my favorite objects in the kitchen was a big yellow bowl that my mother used mainly for one of two things: mixing cake batter or serving popcorn. So whenever that bowl came down from the cabinet it was as if a party switch were turned on in my head. No microwave popcorn, nor Jiffy Pop, could compare to the taste of fresh popcorn and melted butter that filled that bowl.

Now, I don't know how old you think popcorn is but it goes back way before the Pilgrims and Indians. The earliest evidence of popcorn, according to History.com, has recently been traced to more than 6,000 years ago in Peru. (It's remarkable how researchers are capable of tracking this, I can't help picturing trails of extremely stale popcorn leading to ancient concession stands carved in stone.)

Of course, popcorn is intimately connected to American history. The first commercial popcorn machine was invented in the late 1800s, in Chicago, by Charles Cretors. Colonial families sometimes ate popcorn with sugar and cream for breakfast (I've tried this, it tastes a lot like Kellogg's Corn Pops but with a high-risk of choking to death.) And the popcorn business thrived during The Great Depression.


A Street Cart Named Delicious: Lithograph of a 1907 peanut & popcorn wagon, invented by C. Cretors & Company. Photo from Wikipedia.

It's comforting to know that even though the world is constantly changing, our love for popcorn endures. I'm seeing a lot of new brands and flavors of popcorn in food stores and I myself am eating a lot more popcorn these days. Who knows why. It's fun. It's filling. And it's also a natural source of fiber. (It's also gluten free!)



Good To The Last Kernel: American Farmer Kettle Popped Corn

It's becoming more and more evident that the choices we make as consumers define the world in which we live. American Farmer popcorn is one of those brands that isn't just selling you popcorn but a vision of the future. One percent of popcorn profits goes to its mission, supporting American Farmland Trust. But can you judge the taste of popcorn on the goodness of a mission and creative packaging? No, which is why food blogs come in handy. Having tried American Farmer Kettle Popped Corn firsthand, I can tell you that this is primo kettle corn. It has an eloquent veneer of sweetness and a hearty crunch. I'm also a fan of the short list of natural ingredients: Popcorn, Cane Sugar, Sunflower Oil, Salt.



In Popcorn We Trust: American Farmer Popcorn


If you like the intensely buttery taste of movie theater popcorn, you'll love All Natural Old School Movie Theater Popped Corn, also by American Farmer. The name says it all, as does the image of Abe Lincoln wearing 3D glasses. This popcorn does a pretty good job of conjuring up the essence of what you buy at the movies. But unlike those billowing buckets of brilliant yellow, which have the caloric stuff of Big Macs, this popcorn is all natural: no GMOs and MSG, just kernels, sunflower oil, salt and natural flavor. As for the term "natural flavor," I don't know exactly what ingredients constitute "natural flavor" but I do know that every time I eat a handful of this popcorn I feel the impulse to scan a dimly lit room for empty seats.

On a side note, I don't always get popcorn at the movies but once in a while you have to give in to your inner 9-year-old. If you like popcorn and candy, try mixing them together. Per a friend's suggestion the other week at The Great Gatsby, I mixed popcorn and Mike & Ike's and I luh-hoved it!


The Great Mixby: Movie popcorn sprinkled with candy


And now for the grand finale. Let me preface this by reiterating, nothing beats freshly popped corn you make yourself at home. It's so easy to do, too. I usually use olive oil or canola oil. (Just be careful not to turn the heat up too high when using olive oil, which burns at a lower temperature than canola oil.) Post-popping I've tried sprinkling Parmesan cheese on top but I'm not crazy about it. I've also tried adding rosemary and thyme to the heated oil. The goal is to simulate the taste of baked chicken. Or at least that's my goal but I've never come close to achieving it. Perhaps someone like Jean Arnold could.

Jean Arnold, as I have discovered from reading the back of this small, stay-fresh pouch (think cat treats for humans), is founder of 479° Popcorn. Arnold is more than a founder, she's a culinary colonel of kernels. Case in point, the name she came up with for her popcorn, 479°, comes from what she has discovered to be the precise temperature for perfect popping. That's pretty impressive. Overall, I'd say that Arnold has done for popcorn what Yves Saint Laurent did for the trouser suit. She's transformed it into something dramatically sophisticated and refined. Good luck being refined while eating it, however, especially if you like truffles. 479° Black Truffle + White Cheddar popcorn is incredibly savory and delicious. Seriously, what popcorn have you tried lately that has a beginning taste, mid-palate taste and finish? This popcorn is charged with aromatic truffle oil and aged white-cheddar flavor. It's outstanding. I only wish there was a cream soup version.

Next, I tried 479° Sea Salt Caramel. Caramel popcorn this good doesn't need a prize, it is the prize. Think salted caramel on the verge of rich toffee. Of course, it's made with natural, organic ingredients, so it's a healthy indulgence—an oxymoron if I ever heard one.


479° Popcorn: Sea Salt Caramel, Black Truffle + White Cheddar*


*Goes well with martinis.

Mini Crystal Head Vodka

Canadian skulduggery: 50ml Crystal Head vodka


As I walked past Manley's Wines & Spirits in the West Village, this little guy pictured above stopped me dead in my tracks. Seized by its beauty, I darted into the shop, exuberant and loving the day, eternally grateful for the West Village and its small shops, and giddy with the excitement of Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom, and symbol of art, music and poetry—for surely, this shrunken crystal head was nothing short of a work of art.

Me: "Do you sell mini bottles of Crystal Head?"

Attractive Wine Guy: "We do."

Me: "How much are they?"

Attractive Wine Guy: "11.99, but wait 'til you see how it's constructed..."

He then showed me an elegant box full of crystal-clear skull heads, beautifully sculpted and detailed, each neatly nestled in its own private little compartment.

Other Cute Wine Guy: "What makes it great is 1) It's a skull; 2) It's a skull, and 3)—"

Attractive Wine Guy: "It's vodka. How many would you like?"

Me: "Just one, for now, I guess."

Asked if I wanted a bag, I declined, choosing instead to put my diminutive skull, my crystal Yorick, directly into my purse.


Manley's Wines & Spirits, 35 Eight Avenue, NYC


As for what Crystal Head vodka tastes like, I have no idea; I've never tried it. I do know that the company is owned by Dan Aykroyd and that the vodka is Canadian (as is Dan Aykroyd). I also know that Canada is cold, like Finland, Russia, Poland and Holland, sort of, and France... That is to say, Canada, has a lot of arctic regions where vodka can potentially be tapped directly from pristine magic icebergs as they do in Finland, or so I imagine. Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm saying, or why I sound like I've already drunk the entire bottle, but I can't make any assumptions about the taste and quality of this lovely idea come to life, nor do I want to open it to find out. So I'll just have to wait until I find myself at a bar that carries Crystal Head.

Stay tuned...

A New Dawn for Desserts: Chia Seed Parfait @ Victory Garden

Victory Garden's Chia Seed Parfait

My first reaction to learning that chia seeds are the new superfood was definitely shock. I mean really, what next, Sea Monkeys?

The first chia seed dessert I tried was an epic failure. A thick, translucent goo with hundreds of tiny brown seeds trapped in it. The menu called it a pudding. This was no pudding. As the waitress explained, when chia seeds are added to liquid, they absorb the liquid, expand, and form a gel. Sampling a small spoonful, I couldn't help imagining that I was in the Amazon jungle being offered a gourd of bug-mash by a tribal chief. Lost in my imagination, I cautiously swallowed several spoonfuls so as not to offend the natives. But in reality, the only offended native at the table was yours truly. So I wasn't surprised to discover a month or so later on a return visit to the same restaurant that the hostile dessert had been taken off the menu. "It wasn't very popular," said the waiter.

With the chia switch turned on, I was now on the hunt to find a chia dessert that tasted good. And find one I did at Victory Garden on Carmine Street. This creamy white parfait has all the flounce and frills of a traditional parfait yet is extremely healthy: It's made with chia seeds, cashew milk and agave syrup. The result is delicate and mild with a soft, creamy texture much like a thin tapioca. I should also emphasize that this is not the kind of flamboyant dessert that lunges at you like, say, a nutella crepe. It's a mild and gentle dessert for when you're in the mood for something uber-healthy and also satisfying. The latter part relies heavily on which toppings you choose. I haven't gone through all the possible combinations but my favorite combo is granola and blueberry. The parfait pictured above is topped with shredded coconut and strawberry--kind of an unusual combination but surprisingly the textures and flavors work well together.

Honestly, everything about this little food shop impresses me. It's mostly known for its soft-serve goat's milk ice cream--very fancy and very delicious--but also has an extraordinary turkey sandwich (yes, I used 'extraordinary' to describe a turkey sandwich) called The Dutchess that combines turkey with sweet potato--sweet potato! I had to wonder, Who in the world is dreaming up all these beautifully exotic flavor combinations? It all seems so far-fetched at first--goat's milk ice cream? Chia seed parfaits? Thin slices of sweet potato and turkey? But after a taste you realize there is method in all the madness. This is truly harmonious food for those who appreciate fine flavors and subtlety. I knew that whoever was responsible for all this goat-loving gorgeosity clearly has a profound appreciation for natural, nutritious foods, possesses an impressive repertoire of food knowledge, has a very non-parochial idea of which foods belong where, and an elegant yet wildly earthy sensibility.

That someone, I learned, is Sophia Brittan, the founder and chef of Victory Garden and President of Kitchen Caravan. Visit her Website and you'll see what I mean, it's one of the most incredible food/travel blogs I've ever seen!

The Seed: Vegan Food Event in Soho

After spending close to an hour in a giant loft space in Soho where a boutique trade show called "The Seed" was being held to promote veganism, I found the general appearance of the event to be a lot more disheveled and untidy than its advertising suggested. That said, veganism has reached a new level of sophistication and some vendors at the show did represent that side of it. Here are some notable standouts at this event:

1) Café Blossom on Carmine
It's a shame that this upscale vegan restaurant brought its chef Jeremy Scullin but no food samples. I think a lot of people would have been surprised to taste how exciting vegan meals can be. The only reason I can actually vouch for this place is that I've eaten there several times. The food is rather pricey but if you think of it as a spa treatment for your digestive system then the prices are easier to swallow. I recommend the slow-roasted rutabaga and the sauteed fiddlehead ferns side dish if it's available.

2) Viridis Aurum, homemade sicilian olives



"Viridis aurum" means green gold. These olives, cured with love by a Long Islander are packed with flavor. They're also packed in their own oil, something I've never seen before. The result is potent and very tasty.


3) The Regal Vegan



Like the vendor above, The Regal Vegan brought samples. I tried the Faux Gras which is a nice alternative to hummus and is absolutely something that can enhance your party spread.

4) One Lucky Duck



Now this is the kind of vegan fare I was hoping to find at this event, good products even a carnivore would love. With these healthy and tasty macaroons, One Lucky Duck transforms raw ingredients into raw amazement. I sampled a chocolate macaroon and a blondie macaroon and they were both delicious. I'm now looking forward to sampling more from this company, starting with the Rawtella, which is their raw vegan version of Nutella.


5) PlantFusion



I don't use protein supplements, but if I did, I would consider trying this product. Each 30g scoop contains 21g of complete protein from plant sources that include amaranth and quinoa.

Big Disappointment of the Week: Puddin' by Clio

You see a cute little store called Puddin' in the East Village and your inner child does a cartwheel. You casually walk inside to find that true to its name, this store is indeed dedicated entirely to pudding. Greatly excited, I wasted no time in ordering a chocolate pudding and a butterscotch pudding.

First red flag--no pudding skin. Lo and behold, the texture and flavor tasted like instant pudding--the arch nemesis of my pudding-loving heart. The chocolate pudding was pretentiously dark and had a kind of alcoholic taste that didn't appeal to me at all. The butterscotch was a bland rendition that made me sad; it was nothing like the buttery, caramelly flavor extravaganza of classic butterscotch pudding. The overall experience was like watching a parade with no band.

I like my pudding smooth, with a slightly gelatinous firmness to it. Most importantly, it must have a slow-cooked flavor to it. And not just slow cooked, but slow cooked with a wooden spoon. Jell-O and My-T-Fine were the pudding brands I grew up with and they are the reason why for me the very word "pudding" is synonymous with abounding joy and happiness and goodwill to all mankind. Pudding is the Nutcracker Suite of desserts to my stomach, and I'm always seeking natural homemade pudding that tastes as good as the artificially flavored puddings from childhood.

You would think that a store devoted to pudding would most likely have good, if not excellent, pudding. I mean, why else would anyone think of opening a pudding place unless they were some kind of pudding aficionado or could at least produce something a little better than what can be purchased by the goopy pound at a Korean deli? This little shop may look cute from the outside, but it does not deliver what it advertises. The proof is in the puddin' which, I'm sorry to say, is very disappointin'.

A Nice Spot for Tea

The first time I went to Bosie Tea Parlor, located on 10 Morton Street, it was a Tuesday evening, just me and my Kindle. I loved it right away because here I found a real pocket of solace in this manic city overrun by herds and herds of people. The tea list is extensive, the ambience is genteel and the service is laid-back and friendly. Tea arrives at the table perfectly steeped in a small white ceramic pot without any tea bags or leaves to worry about. I had an Orange-Pekoe tea and a madeleine and read my Kindle for a little over an hour. It was heavenly.

The second time I went to Bosie, I learned that all the pastries, cakes and macaroons are made in-house by French pastry chef Damien Herrgot, who not only boasts a fancy name, that to my ear smacks of powdered sugar, but was a former head pastry magician at some very fine French food establishments in Manhattan. So I had to ask, "Does he make the croissants, too?" Yes, said the waitress, adding that the dough is imported from Paris. Not sure how that works or who actually makes the dough but it still sounded wonderful (although not wonderful at all in terms of what an extremely large carbon footprint that leaves for every batch of croissants). But I wasn't thinking of environmental consequences at the time, all I heard was dough from Paris and so I ordered a pain chocolat and Americano. The pain chocolat was OK, although the dough was a bit dry. Maybe it was jet-lagged from the flight?

On yet another subsequent visit to Bosie, I devoured a deliciously bright lemon tart (pictured below):

This is a real winner. Let's be honest: Lemon meringue is exciting. Lemon meringue, lemon meringue, who made thee? Another great thing about lemon tarts is that they go equally well with coffee or tea.

But wait, there's more! True to its tea-time persona, Bosie Tea Parlor offers cucumber sandwiches and other tidy savory-food options as well, such as panini, quiches and salads. The quinoa salad is pretty good.

If you really want to go crazy, there's a Champagne Tea Service for two that includes one pastry, sandwiches, macaroons, scones, tea, and a glass of champagne. For the less wild and crazy, there's The Standard Tea Service which is the same minus pastry and champagne.

Bosie Tea Parlor is a better cafe than most in NYC because it is refined yet welcoming. It has also managed to achieve a bohemian, parlor atmosphere without becoming a filthy gas stop for mangy city nomads. Also, the lighting doesn't dim at night, it stays on bright enough for you to read. That's a rare find, even in the Village. The great and wonderful DOMA cafe used to be that way, but oh well, that's all history now. Nothing gold can stay.

Bottom line, there are three things I really like about Bosie Tea Parlor: the attention and know-how that's put into preparing a very good cup of tea, the character-rich menu and the contemporary parlor decor. It also makes for a very good hang zone: laptops are allowed until 6pm on weekdays and there's WiFi.

But don't go for the Wifi. Go for tea, the pastries, the tea, the croissants, the tea, the quinoa, and oh yes, the macaroons.

Confection Perfection!

Scandinavian candies from Sockerbit, 89 Christopher St.,NYC: Soft toffee covered in milk chocolate (Dumle originals) and sugar-coated raspberry hearts.


You know how the croissants and danishes you find at most bakeries, coffee trucks and diners taste nothing like their fresh, flaky, and staggeringly delicious European counterparts? Well, I've just discovered a similar disparity with candy.

The candy is Scandinavian, and compared to their diabolically gluey and artificial U.S. equivalents (Chuckles, Jujubes, Dots, Circus Peanuts) these candies taste like fresh fruit. I also find that they leave you feeling ebullient, as opposed to anemic. These Scandinavian treats can be found in the West Village, at Sockerbit, a starkly white store where the sweet fragrance of fresh candy gently strokes the air.

The main attraction at Sockerbit: a panoply of loose candy in rows of clear plastic bins.

Stylishly dressed rag-doll Easter bunnies

Decorative egg tins in delicate hues can be filled with candy

Since it was my first time there, I selected a little bit of everything for my bag. The truth is, I've never been that into jelly or gummi candies. The only reason I went into Sockerbit in the first place was because my sister wanted to go. She likes candy a lot more than I do—I'm more of a dessert person. But, once there, not only was I charmed by the store's crisp Swedish aesthetic and pleasing scent, but the service is friendly too.

The store clerk told me that most of these candies are made with real sugar, not high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS). OK, that changes everything. Why does that change everything? Because ever since I read Fat Land by Greg Critser, I've become somewhat like the Lorax when it comes to complaining about the metabolic perils of HFCS in foods. We need to a return to a pristine food ethos. Bad ingredients equals bad food and is ruining our lives. In Sweden, said the candy clerk, natural sugar isn't as expensive as it is in the U.S. so there's no cost advantage to using manufactured sugars like HFCS. HFCS is everywhere in food in the U.S. But according to Wikipedia,"Wide scale replacement of sugar has not occurred in the EU."

The Sockerbit Website doesn't mention anything about sugar but it does advertise that its candies do not contain transfats, artificial colors, or GMOs (genetically modified organisms). Win, win, and win. Sockerbit also carries sugar-free candies and vegan candies.

My filled candy bag:

So, how do these candies taste?

Flavor, I tell you, flavor! As fresh and fruity as a bowl full of berries! And that's just half the story. There's also a carnival of textures: textures that marvel and entertain, tantalize and tease. I particularly liked the raspberry gummi hearts sprinkled with sugar, the foam mushrooms with light beige tinted caps and an ever so subtle coffee flavor, and little red monkeys that are tough and tiny but packed with a kind of bubblegum flavor. These monkeys are addictive and I don't know why!

To balance out the jellies with a little more substance, I mixed in soft toffees covered in chocolate (Dumle originals). Of course, like all things comestible, part of the excitement is in the search for and discovery of your own personal favorites.

As soon as I knew it, I had one piece of candy left. A sugar-sprinkled, blueberry-jelly and vanilla-foam gumdrop. As I beheld the sheer beauty of this miniature mold of jewel-like jelly, neatly set upon a layer of snow-white marshmallow, countless thoughts rushed through my head. But I settled upon this. Candy, mixed with love, does make the world taste good. And by love, I don't mean some intangible make-believe ingredient. I mean all-natural flavors and real sugar in the hands of a candy maker with a refined palate and a playful imagination. Think Wordsworth captured in jelly. The glory and freshness of a dream...

What more can you ask for in a gumdrop? Nothing more, and certainly nothing less!



Photos by Katherine Lee