Sometimes You Feel Like a Legume: Dinner at Peanut Butter & Co.

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I am a peanut butter freak, and I’ve discovered it’s an ailment that has only gotten worse as I’ve aged. When I was younger I used to be very picky about the quality of the peanut butter I tasted — Ritz Bitz was authentic enough for me, but Lord, the indignity of lowering myself to the artificial flavor of Peanut Butter Captain Crunch. I was a loyal Jif girl, and looked down my nose at other peanut butter brands. And though I’d like to think that my palate has gotten more refined as I’ve gotten older, my love of all things peanut butter has curiously grown by leaps and bounds, breaking free of my previous (mis)conceptions and invading all aspects of my eating (did you know peanut butter tastes great with yogurt? salads? cheese?).

Way back in April of last year I mentioned my desire to visit Peanut Butter & Co., and now I am proud to say I can finally check that item off my NYC food-list. I’d heard about Peanut Butter & Co. years ago, but had never found the time to go downtown and visit their store, nor even try their line of peanut butters that I’ve seen slowly expand through the tri-state area. Thankfully, Laura, my partner in crimes-related-to-pb & j (see our Jam Crawl and our visit to Bantam Bagels), was kind enough to take me to dinner at PB&Co. as a belated holiday present. It was a trip nearly a year in the making, but for a peanut butter devotee such as myself, it was a decidedly necessary pilgrimage to the Valhalla of cream-and-crunchdom.

 

First Impressions:

Peanut Butter & Co. is located in Greenwich Village, just off of Washington Square Park and the hub of NYU. It obviously benefits from being so close to a huge student population, and its menu of sandwiches, cookies, brownies and ice cream seems tailor-made for hungover college kids.

The counter at PB&Co., with the kitchen behind taking up nearly half the cafe's space.

The counter at PB&Co., with the kitchen behind taking up nearly half the cafe’s space.

The photos I had seen of the cafe made it seem like a large space, but standing outside the doors it became clear that it’s a relatively shallow store, with nearly half of the real estate taken up by the kitchen and counter. Entering the cafe, you find the cashier to the left, a small retail section in the back featuring the titular line of peanut butters, merch, baked goods and drinks, and then to your right a collection of tables, seating probably the same amount of people as the average Manhattan Starbucks. The decor is friendly and pared down, the exterior of the store painted bright blue and white, and the inside evoking a classic American kitchen with pastel yellow walls covered in vintage advertisements for peanut and sandwich products.

Vintage ads show the legacy of peanut butter's place in American hearts.

Vintage ads show the legacy of peanut butter’s place in American hearts.

Honestly, I had no idea Marshmallow Fluff came in flavors other than "marshmallow."

Honestly, I had no idea Marshmallow Fluff came in flavors other than “marshmallow.”

The service style is a little odd. There’s no table service (you order at the counter), but they do bring your food straight to your table … sometimes (we had to go up and fetch our own dessert). We also encountered a somewhat strange scenario during our visit — generally, PB&Co. has a faucet at the counter that dispenses regular NYC tap water (since everyone including Barney knows that PB leaves you pretty parched), but it was broken, and therefore covered to prevent anyone trying to use it. This meant that when we asked for tap water, the cashier told us our only option was to buy a bottle of water, citing a violation of NYC health chodes to fill a customer’s glass from a tap behind the counter. Now, granted I don’t know the health code, but you’d think they could have gotten a cooler or filled a pitcher, rather than forcing people to pay and engendering ill will. But then again, it seems to be a bustling place with a steady stream of customers, so perhaps they think they’ll just try to get a few more bucks out of folks until someone really puts up a fight.

 

The Food:

Tempting, but perhaps a bit much for the first visit.

Tempting, but perhaps a bit much for the first visit.

In order to get the most out of the PB&Co. menu, we opted to split two sandwiches and share a dessert, ordering The Elvis, The Heat is On Sandwich, and the Bananarama Sundae to finish up. All of the sandwiches are served with both carrots and PB&Co. brand chips, which helps to fill out the plate a little bit. Not surprisingly, our sandwiches were ready in no time, so we could get down to some serious chewing.

 

The Elvis, perhaps underserved by a lack of bacon.

The Elvis, perhaps underserved by a lack of bacon.

The Elvis (“A grilled peanut butter sandwich, stuffed with bananas and honey”) is offered with an optional addition of bacon, and part of me regrets deciding to go without, because I think it would have added that extra salt and crunch the sandwich needed. The sandwich was very uniform in texture, soft and gooey from being grilled. Now both Laura and I agreed that almost any sandwich improves with grilling, but in this case, because of the melted quality of the peanut butter, it was nearly impossible to tell that we had chosen PB&Co.’s “Crunchtime” crunchy peanut butter, which I had hoped would mix things up a bit in terms of mouthfeel. The flavor was certainly pure and strongly peanutty, and ended up being the dominant note of the sandwich. I have to question the cafe’s definition of “stuffed” here, because both the honey and the banana seemed conservatively applied, getting lost in the melting swirl of the peanut butter. Still, you can’t fault the combination of flavors as a classic, and I thought the peanut butter itself was top notch. There’s just something so delightful and nostalgic about the oozing, gooey drip of peanut making your fingers sticky and forcing you to lick it off like a 5 year old. But Laura and I concurred that The Elvis was very much a sandwich we could have made in our own kitchens (even with PB&Co.’s own product), and gotten more bang for our buck.

 

The Heat is On Sandwich — not quite a Thai dish, but an interesting play on flavors.

The Heat is On Sandwich — not quite a Thai dish, but an interesting play on flavors.

The Heat is On Sandwich (“Spicy peanut butter and chilled grilled chicken, with a little bit of pineapple jam. Like a Thai satay — only better”) was definitely the most interesting dish of our dinner, and I’m glad that Laura convinced me to order this over another meatless option. The title refers to PB&Co.’s spicy variety of the same name, and I was a little nervous about how hot the spread would be. It turned out to have a substantial kick to it, with the inherent sweetness of the peanut butter up front and the cayenne really coming through on the back end. The chicken was firm yet moist, although it mostly served as a vehicle for the peanut butter’s dominating flavor. Similarly, it was hard to discern the pineapple flavor of the jam, although I appreciated the gelatinous texture and the jam’s use as a cooling element against the spicy peanut butter. Although PB&Co. describes it as similar to a Thai sandwich, I found it lacked the soy/umami taste that separates satay sauces from regular melted peanut butter. We got the sandwich on toasted whole wheat bread, and I had hoped that meant the entire sandwich would be grilled (see comment about the benefits of grilling above), but alas, the toaster touched the bread only. This was certainly a more creative and more filling sandwich than The Elvis, and I could see this being a knockout dish if it was first grilled, and then had the pineapple jam applied.

Now before I even comment on our sundae, let’s take a moment to discuss proper ice cream serving etiquette. Ice cream sundaes, if served in a tall glass or high-rimmed bowl, should come with long-handled spoons, preferably metal ones. Otherwise you’re left with an inadequate tool for digging deep to the bottom of the bowl to scoop out lingering hot fudge or an errant chocolate chunk, and risk getting melted ice cream all over your hands in the process of excavation. (This pertains mostly to hard-style ice creams — a soft-serve Carvel sundae, for example, will yield easily to a plastic spoon.)

The visually pleasing, if haphazardly constructed Banarama Sundae.

The visually pleasing, if haphazardly constructed Banarama Sundae.

The Bananarama Sundae (“What a banana split! Three scoops of ice cream, sliced bananas, graham crackers, peanut butter, Marshmallow Fluff, whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Wonderful for sharing, if you are so inclined”) was cutely served in a large mug, but arrived with only flimsy plastic spoons with which to tackle it. This made it difficult to get a bite that involved all of the elements of the dessert, especially considering the middle layer of solid chocolate ice cream. It was aesthetically pleasing, with a large dollop of whipped cream on top, drizzled with chocolate sauce and graham cracker crumbs. Generally the sundae comes with vanilla ice cream, but PB&Co. had sold out of it earlier in the day (a testament to the appeal of their ice cream, since it continues to be frigid in NYC). We opted for chocolate ice cream as the base of the dessert, and I’d actually recommend requesting it over the vanilla if you have the chance. I liked all of the individual components of the sundae, but once you dove in it seemed like the construction wasn’t given proper attention. I’ll admit I’ve become a bit biased about this after experiencing the intense consideration that goes into Big Gay’s Salty Pimp — first sea salt, then dulce de leche in the cone, then ice cream, etc. Here the Bananarama had chunks of graham crackers on the bottom, covered in peanut butter and Fluff, then the ice cream, then the whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and graham cracker crumbs. That meant that you had to struggle to get through the ice cream to reach the crunchy crumbs and gooey Fluff, which over time stiffened up to make things even more difficult. Initially it was super goopy and true-to-name fluffy, but by the end (and trust me, we didn’t dilly-dally, since Laura is as much of a fast-eating food honeybadger as I), everything had started to congeal and required a dedicated application of elbow grease. An easy solution would be to replace the chocolate sauce with hot fudge (frankly, always a good choice), which would have kept the Fluff warmer for longer, and allowed better mixing with the graham crackers and peanut butter sauce. And just like The Elvis, Laura and I felt like there was a serious lack of bananas — why so skimpy on the fruit, PB&Co.? But as a positive, the Bananarama allowed us to sample a variety of the toppings offered, so I’ll be able to make a more strategic order the next time I stop in.

Final Thoughts:

My trip to Peanut Butter & Co.’s cafe was a great holiday present, and I’m grateful to Laura for taking me. Overall, it’s a cute homestyle spot offering familiar and comforting, if somewhat pedestrian fare. I’m happy I visited and sampled the savory menu, but I think if I go back it’ll be when the weather warms up so I can try out some of their other ice cream options (word on the street is that their milkshakes are killer). When it comes down to it, unless I suddenly develop a serious allergy, peanut butter is going to be a big part of my life for the foreseeable future.  For all of the quibbles I have about the food at their cafe, I have to applaud Peanut Butter & Co. for giving peanut butter a proper place in the spotlight, and helping to spread George Washington Carver’s message of brotherhood and legume love.

 

Peanut Butter & Co.

240 Sullivan St. (between 3rd and Bleecker)

http://ilovepeanutbutter.com/sandwichshop

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A Rustic Refresh: Back to Basics at Hu Kitchen

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I’m going to be straight with you guys — despite the decadent meals I detail on this blog, I am not the spry food-partier I once was. I can’t knock back a sleeve of Oreos like in my glory days, or pile on the greasy fried Japanese food without grimly acknowledging that I’ll all too likely to feel it in the morning. More than my inability to stay up late, my reluctance to ever set foot in Murray Hill for anything other than Indian food, or my growing acceptance of Snuggies as appropriate outerwear, the presence of “food hangovers” have signaled my arrival into adulthood. I may continue to stuff my face with funsize Halloween candy bars, but my body will no longer fully support me in that endeavor. It will make its displeasure known, from tummyaches to headaches and more.

I bring this all up because after a recent Saturday grease-fest, I found myself staggering about on Sunday begging for some reasonable grub to rebalance and refuel. I was meeting Jacob for lunch, and though he benefits from an iron-clad constitution, he was more than happy to try out a spot in Union Square I’d had my eye on for a while — the crunchy-granola, hippy-dippy, but still intriguing Hu Kitchen. And lucky for me, it proved to be just the kind of place a recovering foodie needs. File that away for future food comas.

 

First Impressions:

Just to be clear, they do not sell pet food here.

Just to be clear, they do not sell pet food here.

Hu Kitchen’s slogan is “Food for Humans”, which is prominently displayed on the outside of the cafe. The website explains that their focus is on unprocessed food, rather than espousing one particular “-ism” or diet, and this line-straddling approach is evident in the decor. Hu Kitchen struck me as part Chipotle, part Fern Gully, featuring black and steel countertops and flooring mixed with roughly hewn wooden tables and seating made out of tree trunks. At once industrial and natural, the restaurant emphasizes that it doesn’t want to ignore modern society or eating habits, but hopes to reintroduce the notion of natural as normal.

 

Looking back from the smoothie/juice/espresso bar to the other stations at Hu Kitchen.

Looking back from the smoothie/juice/espresso bar to the other stations at Hu Kitchen.

 

Hu Kitchen follows the market/cafe model, similar to Whole Foods, with a number of stations spread throughout the space. A smoothie/juice/espresso bar is positioned as you enter, for quick grab and go, or leisurely sipping at the handful of tables up front. Walking to the back you pass a fridge with prepackaged snacks and drinks (we tried some samples of grain-free chips), before hitting the hot bar, bowl, and prepared food stations. Most of the seating is on the second floor, where you can recline on any of the available stumps (or plastic chairs, if that’s more your thing).

Rustic hewn seating mixed with sleek glass and metal.

Rustic hewn seating mixed with sleek glass and metal. I guess sometimes you just want to sit on a stump.

 

The Food:

The ground rules going in.

The ground rules going in.

While Hu Kitchen doesn’t prescribe to one particular food system, they do have some specific guidelines for their dishes — they only serve natural, unprocessed food, with recognizable ingredients and as much certified organic as they can. The focus is mainly on vegetables, and there are vegan/vegetarian meat substitutes, but you can also get grass-fed beef or free-range chicken. Hu Kitchen’s menu is also largely gluten-free, since they mostly avoid grains, and their food is free of cane sugar — sweetened only with honey, maple syrup, or coconut sugar. I’m telling you all of this to underscore how even with all these seemingly restricting rules, the food I had at Hu Kitchen was flat-out delicious.

 

A sample of Hu Kitchen's prepared foods, from vegetarian to gluten-free and the Venn Diagram space in between.

A sample of Hu Kitchen’s prepared foods, from vegetarian to gluten-free and the Venn Diagram space in between.

When I had initially scoped out the menu (my mama always said a good food nerd is a well-informed one), I had been drawn to the “Bowls” category, which allows you to choose a permutation from 3 different bases and 3 different toppings. But once I actually got there, the wide variety of prepared salads and sides on display in the prepared foods case drew my eyes. Jacob and I tried the Primal Kale Salad (org kale, org goji berry, sesame seed, org apple cider vinegar, unfiltered honey, shallot, garlic mustard powder) and the Curried Sweet Potato (org dried apricot, almond, org egg, scallion, cilantro, cumin, cayenne, turmeric, garam masala), both of which I would gladly hit up again on my next visit. But we decided to trust our instincts and investigate the possibilities of the bowls. I ordered the Root Veg Mash base with Thai Chicken on top, while Jacob went with the Organic Quinoa base with Roasted Wild Mushroom. The helpful staff was eager to point out favorites and explain the extras not mentioned on the menu, like the selection of “toppers” for the bowls, ranging from herbs like parsley and cilantro, to sauces like lime juice and sriracha, and a variety of nuts and seeds.

 

My bowl of Root Veg Mash with Thai Chicken. Great flavors, lousy consistency combo.

My bowl of Root Veg Mash with Thai Chicken. Great flavors, lousy consistency combo.

I ended up topping my Root Veg Mash with Thai Chicken (org coconut milk, turmeric, ginger, lemongrass, cilantro, basil) with more cilantro and lime juice. While I found both of the components of my bowl satisfying, I wouldn’t recommend this particular combination. The problem stems from the liquid content of the chicken, which is served in a coconut milk sauce. The root vegetable mash (sweet potatoes, parnsips, carrots, etc) has the consistency of smooth mashed potatoes, so the hot liquid from the chicken turned my bowl into more of a soup/stew concoction than I had hoped for. However, both the mash and the chicken were incredibly flavorful. I loved the tenderness of the meat, shredded and soft from the coconut milk, with the familiar interplay of woodsy sweetness from lemongrass and the bite of the turmeric and ginger. I would definitely get the mash again with a more solid topping (maybe even the roasted mushrooms Jacob got), since it tasted fresh and sweet, reminding me of the sweet potato casserole my mother serves at Thanksgiving. Adding the acidity from the lime juice topper definitely helped to cut through the richness of the dish, and I could see how adding some seeds or nuts would help to vary the texture.

 

Jacob's Quinoa with Roasted Mushrooms bowl -- a slightly more successful combination.

Jacob’s Organic Quinoa with Roasted Mushrooms bowl — just slightly on the dry side, but a bit more successful combo.

Jacob had a similar problem with his chosen combination, finding the Organic Quinoa with Roasted Mushrooms (shiitake, portobello, button mushroom, carrot, garlic, shallot, thyme) in need of just a touch more moisture. I thought the quinoa was nicely cooked, soft without being too dry, and could see it as a better base for the Thai Chicken (we basically should have swapped combos). The mixture of mushrooms types lent the dish a solid variety of textures, the roasted mushrooms slightly caramelized, with aromatics from the garlic and shallots. The mushrooms are served out of a slowcooker that keeps them stewing in their own liquid, which gave them a nice soft feel and deep flavor.

Both of our bowls came with a small button of Hu grain-free bread, not much larger than an ice cube and resembling pumpernickel in color. I would guess it was made out of some sort of nutmeal or seeds, but I thought it was pretty tasty, if a bit dense. It had the nuttiness of hearty, rustic dark ryes like those from Scandinavia  I dipped it into my slushy bowl, and liked it even better when it had soaked up some liquid.

The portion size was perfect for a nice lunch, although I might opt for a side salad if looking for a more substantial dinner. After the previous day’s foray into grease and sugar, I really appreciated how my meal at Hu Kitchen filled me up without weighing me down. I fully plan on coming back to try out some of the prepared foods, and (of course) I’m interested in looking into some of their grain-free muffins and desserts.

Final Thoughts:

I’ve spoken before about the upsides and downsides of writing of a food blog — the expectation of having opinions on food means that you both get to enjoy being used as a resource, but also have to deal with the assumption that you will know and write about most everything you encounter. Thankfully, after over a year of writing Experimental Gastronomy, I’m still just as passionate about exploring and educating myself about dining and cooking. One unexpected side effect of blogging is how it has made me a literally conscious eater — I try to think critically about what I’m tasting (although I’ll readily admit to mindlessly stuffing my face plenty). Recently, this has pushed me towards being more mindful of what I’m eating day-to-day, as in what is the makeup of the foods I put into my body. I find myself curious about nutrition, food science, and food policy, and while I’m not going off the grid, so to speak (I wish I knew how to quit you, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups), I love finding places like Hu Kitchen that give me the tools to make better choices about my diet, even if it’s just one meal at a time. It’s nice to go to a place that reminds you that pure, natural ingredients can taste just as good as KFC, and that we shouldn’t be afraid of unfamiliar items like chia, hemp, or nutritional yeast. At Hu Kitchen, you can ease yourself along the spectrum from vegan to paleo to simply gastro-curious, from cashew creamed broccoli to plain ol’ chicken tenders. When you get right down to it, Hu Kitchen truly sticks to their slogan — it’s not fancy, it’s just food for humans.

 

Hu Kitchen

78 Fifth Ave (between 13th and 14th)

hukitchen.com

Restaurant Week at Spice Market: Eastern Quotidian by Highly Trained Hands

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I’ve always been fascinated by fusion restaurants. They take a big risk by combining disparate cuisines, since it’s pretty easy to end up simply highlighting the worst parts of your original food cultures. Fusion is also one of those trends that many argue has been overdone, nearly guaranteeing a raised eyebrow if not a full-on eye-roll when you mention the hottest new fusion spot — oh right, we really needed someone to mash together Ethiopian and Ecuadorian food. (Wait, does that exist?)

I know that poorly executed fusion restaurants are out there, but I’ve yet to encounter one that truly disappointed me. I spent a number of birthday dinners in high school at Ruby Foo’s in Times Square, marveling at their takes on Chinese food made with a quarter of the grease used by my local takeout place. I even liked the few times I went to Roy’s Hawaiian Fusion Cuisine, first in Tampa, and later in Philadelphia. I’d never had Hawaiian food before, and I thought the Asian twist (logical, I suppose, given the geography and cultural heritage of Hawaii) worked as a great entry point into Hawaiian ingredients and preparations. I’ve been eager to try more traditional Hawaiian food since then (maybe even spam fried rice?), so if anyone has a recommendation for a spot in New York, I’d be very grateful.

When Summer Restaurant Week 2013 rolled around, I already had my eye on visiting one of Jean Georges Vongerichten’s restaurants. The man is a legend in the New York and world food scene, and what’s the point of Restaurant Week if not to briefly make reachable to the plebeian masses the haute cuisine of the upper crust? However, part of what made my Winter Restaurant Week meal at Kutsher’s Tribeca so satisfying was the way they reinvented familiar dishes (reuben spring rolls, anyone?), so rather than pick the more conventional Nougatine, I thought Vongerichten’s Spice Market might prove a more thrilling culinary adventure. And lucky for Jacob, his cousin Carolyn, and I, our Restaurant Week supper there last Sunday was exactly that.

 

First Impressions:

The modest exterior of Spice Market belies its intricately designed interior.

The modest exterior of Spice Market belies its intricately designed interior.

Spice Market is located in the heart of the Meatpacking District, caddy-corner to the Gansevoort Hotel. Walking up to the restaurant, I realized I had passed it a number of times, but never connected the space with the name. This is in part because of how unassuming the outside of Spice Market is — it’s housed in one of those nondescript Meatpacking former warehouses, built mainly of brick and wrought iron.

I'm pretty sure every multilevel restaurant needs to add a tower at the top of their staircase.

I’m pretty sure every multilevel restaurant needs to add a tower at the top of their staircase.

The interior, however, is a completely different story. Inspired by his experiences traveling through Asia, the aim of Spice Market is to apply classical French cooking techniques to popular Asian street food. The decor focuses mainly on this Eastern influence, blurring the lines between chic temple, nightclub, and opium den. The space is dominated by dark wood, vaulted ceilings, and Asian architectural features, from the multilevel, narrow staircase topped by what appears to be a bell tower (actually holding a lamp inside), to the draping of dark red and orange curtains all around, to the intricate wood carving that encloses the bar. The staff is dressed head-to-toe in orange Buddhist-esque robes, except for the white-and-orange-decked busboys (and the general manager, who wore a suit). Asian lanterns lend a soft glow to everything (hence my fuzzy photos), but at the same time you have the familiar exposed ceilings and pulsing music, leaving behind a zen setting for the louder tenor of the NY dining scene.

The full bar is encased in finely carved wood.

The full bar is encased in finely carved wood.

 

I was first to arrive, so I made my way over to the bar and ordered a cocktail. Spice Market has a full bar with domestic and Indian beers and a variety of speciality drinks, created using housemade syrups and sodas. After conferring with the bartender, I went with the Passion Fruit Sangria (Gewurztraminer, Gran Gala, Blackberry, Orange). Jacob and Carolyn arrived soon after, and chose the Whiskey Passion Fizz (George Dickel No. 12, Passion Fruit, Chili, Ginger Ale) and Cucumber Chill (Dill-infused Aylesbury Duck Vodka, Cucumber, Lemon), respectively. I found my sangria light and refreshing (I’m obviously an ardent fan of the drink in general — Calle Ocho, anyone?), the white wine laying a more delicate base, and the Gran Gala (an orange liquer) mixing smoothly with the fruit components. The passion fruit itself wasn’t particularly prominent, aside from lending an overall tropical flair. I’d recommend it as a great drink for brunch, if you’re in the mood for something fun and fruity.

My Passion Fruit Sangria on the right, and Jacob's Whiskey Passion Fizz on the left. You can see a small glimpse of our orange-bedecked bartender in the background.

My Passion Fruit Sangria on the right, and Jacob’s Whiskey Passion Fizz on the left. You can see a small glimpse of our orange-bedecked bartender in the background.

Jacob’s Whiskey Passion Fizz had more of a kick to it than I expected (both in spice and strength), but I enjoyed it despite a dislike of both ginger ale and whiskey. Carolyn’s was my least favorite drink, although she was happy she picked it. She said it tasted like a pickle, which immediately made me wary, but when I took a sip I found it lacked the harsh vinegar quality I dislike so much, coming off more like cucumber water with a bit of a kick, with no real flavor of vodka at all. But let’s stop dilly-dallying with discussions of alcohol — the main attraction awaits.

The Food:

We were seated shortly after our set reservation time, and in general the staff was fairly attentive. Our waiter was happy to answer any and all of our questions at first, but he only appeared a few times to take our orders and check in at the entree stage. However, I saw the general manager walking around multiple times throughout the evening, scanning the floor and checking with tables, even adjusting a place setting once to make sure everything was aligned and straight. The food itself came very quickly, served family-style so that at one point we were almost overwhelmed by the influx of dishes. I was also happy to note the frequent refilling of our water glasses, a pet peeve of mine that pettily can strongly influence my overall impression of a meal.

Bowl of complimentary pappadum chips and spicy tomato dip.

Bowl of complimentary pappadum chips and spicy tomato dip.

Our meal started with a complimentary bowl of pappadum-type lentil crackers. I found the pappadums at most Indian restaurants to be either too bland and soft, or too burnt and smoky, but these were a different breed altogether. They were like lentil tortilla chips, thicker and crunchier, and more capable of scooping up the hot tomato chutney they were served with.

Both Jacob and I opted for the Restaurant Week menu, but Carolyn was more interested in Spice Market’s regular offerings. At first I was concerned, since some restaurants make everyone at the table opt into the RW menu if any diner chooses it, but our waiter quickly confirmed that Carolyn was fine ordering a la carte.

Carolyn chose the Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings and the Spicy Thai Slaw to start, and then the Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu as her entree. Jacob selected the Salmon Sashimi, followed by the Kimchi Fried Rice, and I ordered the Spiced Shrimp Broth, followed by the Wok Charred Daikon Cake. We all split two of the Restaurant Week desserts: the Black Sesame Cake and the Malted Chocolate Parfait.

The Spicy Thai Slaw Salad: not so spicy, but a refreshing way to start a meal.

The Spicy Thai Slaw Salad: not so spicy, but a refreshing way to start a meal.

The appetizers came out in a steady stream, starting with Carolyn’s salad. The Spicy Thai Slaw (with Asian pear, crispy shallots, and mint) was one of my favorite dishes of the night. A refreshing shredded cabbage salad, it had just a hint of heat that was balanced by the coolness of the mint and the sweetness of the Asian pear (similar in flavor to a mild apple). The crunch of the cabbage and the crispy shallots kept it interesting texturally, although by the time you reached the bottom of the bowl the salad was a little soggy from all of the pooled dressing.

Spicy Thai Chicken Wings -- these aren't kidding on the spice, but they'll put up a good fight against Buffalo Wild Wings.

Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings — these aren’t kidding on the spice, and they’ll put up a good fight against Buffalo Wild Wings.

The Spicy Thai Fried Chicken Wings (with sliced mango and mint) lived up to their name a little more. I’ve never been into wings, so this dish didn’t impress me all that much, but even as an outsider observer I could tell that the breading was truly crispy, and the meat was very tender and juicy. Much like the inclusion of the mint in the salad, here it worked with the mango to cool down the heat of the wings, which I found a little too spicy for my liking. If you are a wings fan, I’d definitely recommend giving this dish a go — it was lightly fried so that the crust gave great texture without veering into the extremes of either too crunchy or mushily falling off the meat.

Although Jacob and I were attempting to experience the majority of the Restaurant Week menu by splitting the dishes, we both found ourselves drawn to appetizers the other wouldn’t like. We tried to find common ground in the other two appetizers, but the Mixed Green Salad and Beef Satay just couldn’t stand up against our respective love of salmon and shrimp. So we gave each other a pass on the starters, and in retrospect it was a strong strategic move.

The Salmon Sashimi, delicately layered and covered in a creamy sauce.

The Salmon Sashimi, delicately layered and covered in a creamy sauce.

Jacob seemed to really enjoy his Salmon Sashimi (with Golden Garlic and Lemon Soy), which arrived in small slivers drizzled with a creamy sauce. I tried a piece (I’m trying to get on the raw fish bandwagon, one leg at a time, folks), and like my Seattle salmon encounter, I could tell the the fish was of a very high quality, even if the flavor didn’t do much for me. The sauce reminded me of scallion cream cheese — perhaps a vaguely Japanese nod towards bagels and lox?

The Spiced Shrimp Broth -- this photo doesn't do the depth of flavor of this soup proper justice at all.

The Spiced Shrimp Broth — this photo doesn’t do the depth of flavor of this soup proper justice at all.

Now I could go on and on about my Spiced Shrimp Broth (with glass noodles and herbs). If you’re a fan of shellfish, this was a mindblowingly good preparation of it, and has stuck with me out of all the dishes at Spice Market, even several days later. Truth be told, after being in New England this weekend, and Seattle just a few weeks ago, I was prepared to come back down to earth from shellfish heaven and relearn to be satisfied with New York’s pretty solid fish scene. But as an eternal shrimp lover, I couldn’t overlook this appetizer once I spotted it. This soup is like a punch in the mouth of shrimp — pure, luscious, somehow achieving the kind of deep flavor you usually have in a dense bisque, though this broth was very light (and bright pink). The bowl contained mostly long strings of the glass noodles with small chunks of shrimp at the bottom, making me think of pho but with a seafood twist (is there some Thai or Vietnamese non-coconut soup that I don’t know about? Please let me know, I will order it always). On top of the broth floated leaves of cilantro and basil, adding an herbal brightness to the natural umami of the shrimp. I legitimately could have had a gallon of this soup and left a happy camper.

 

The simple components of the Kimchi Fried Rice: beef, rice, kimchi. Still a solid dish, though.

The simple components of the Kimchi Fried Rice: beef, rice, kimchi. Still a solid dish, though.

However, this was just the beginning — next up, our entrees. Jacob’s Kimchi Fried Rice with Korean Beef came out first. You can see from the photo that the dish was heavier on the rice aspect than the beef. I found this especially disappointing, because the Korean beef was melt-in-your-mouth good. The shortribs were presented in a small rectangle lightly dusted with sesame seeds atop the rice, the individual strands of meat visible to the naked eye. Sticking a fork in, little chunks flaked away beautifully, like long-braised brisket. I can understand the restraint given how rich the beef was, but when you come across well done shortribs, it’s just hard to stop and savor the flavors laminating your tongue. The rice was nicely chewy, and had a bit of the pop from sour kimchi. It was much more subtle a taste than I expected, given my previous experiences with heavily pickled kimchi. The dish worked as a whole, but it was much more muted overall than I had anticipated, especially considering the limited and straightforward components of rice, beef, and slices of kimchi.

 

Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu -- intriguing and new, if a little much for a full entree.

Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu — intriguing and new, if a little much for a full entree.

Carolyn’s Pearl Noodles with Smoked Tofu in Black Bean Sauce lingered with me a bit more. Carolyn and I agreed that the tofu had a deep, smoky taste, but Jacob thought the tofu was only mildly flavored. Although I think smoked food can be hit or miss, I liked that the kitchen had achieved a burnt flavor for the tofu without altering the texture too much — this wasn’t charred to a crisp, but still the soft squares of tofu you find in miso soup. The pearl noodles were thick like udon, but not quite as long, and were tender from soaking up the moisture from the black bean sauce. The sauce had a great earthy flavor, full of fermented beans and infused with soy, coming off as just slightly sweet. I enjoyed the small bites I had, but I wouldn’t order it for my main course. I think a full bowl of it would end up being too cloyingly sweet and decadent.

 

The Wok Charred Daikon Cake -- redefining the idea of "cake" and unexpectedly addictive.

The Wok Charred Daikon Cake — redefining the idea of “cake” and unexpectedly addictive.

Last, but certainly not least, was my Wok Charred Daikon Cake (with scallions and peanuts). I was on a roll with my menu selections, because this ended up being my second favorite dish of our dinner, sliding in right behind the Spiced Shrimp Broth. I wasn’t sure exactly would arrive when I read the words “daikon cake” on the menu, and our waiter unfortunately didn’t give clarity. Knowing that daikon is a radish, I had to wonder if it would be some sort of tower of slices? The bowl of food that eventually arrived at our table was far from any definition of cake I’ve ever heard of — it looked more like a curry with a thick sauce, cubed pieces of unbelievably soft radish, slices of red chiles, scallions, and whole peanuts. Digging a little deeper while writing this post, it seems like (at least from Google image search) daikon cake is usually made from radish cooked and compressed into a square or rectangle. Spice Market’s take seemed to then deconstruct that cake, chopping it up into chunks, and folding it into a stew of sauce and vegetables. This gave the daikon pieces an almost eggplant-like texture, soft and succulent. While the rest of the dish verged on smooth and squishy, the peanuts were moist but still crunchy, which kept the texture from being too monotonous. The Thai theme comes out again in this dish, which I found reminiscent of a Thai curry in terms of the deep, layered flavors, and inclusion of peanuts. Salty, sweet, with just a tiny kick from the chile peppers, I just kept ladling more and more onto my plate.

I know this must sound highly suspicious coming from me, but dessert was kinda an afterthought for our dinner. After the stream of new exotic flavor pairings that had steamrolled across my tastebuds, I found our two desserts perfectly adequate, but far from showstoppers. I felt that the Black Sesame Cake (with green tea mousse and yuzu) was the lesser of the two dishes. Truth be told, I’ve had sesame desserts before — ice cream flavors and other versions of cakes, and I’ve never really gotten the appeal. I like sesame in savory dishes, but as a card-carrying chocoholic, it’s just never been sweet enough for me in a dessert setting.

 

The Black Sesame Cake -- with tasty shards of sesame brittle.

The Black Sesame Cake — with tasty squares of sesame brittle.

The cake arrived in a small bowl, a deep green square seated upon the green tea mousse, and topped with yuzu ice cream, shards of sesame brittle, and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. The cake itself was a little dry, but the mousse and the yuzu ice cream added brighter flavors and a bit of moisture. Overall it just read too savory to me — I know green tea is not an unusual flavoring for Asian desserts, but I really only think of it in the context of a beverage, and while the citrusy taste of the yuzu was pleasing, I’m arbitrarily picky about fruit-based desserts.

 

The Malted Chocolate Parfait -- a delicious, if oddly American dessert.
The Malted Chocolate Parfait — a delicious, if oddly American dessert.

The Malted Chocolate Parfait (with caramel crumble and summer berries) was much more in my wheelhouse, and so it’s no surprise that I dug right into it. The malted chocolate came in the form of a mousse as the bottom layer of the parfait, topped with blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries, then the “caramel crumble” (basically a streusel topping), and finally vanilla ice cream and chocolate crunchies. I didn’t get much of a malted flavor, but as I’m not a fan of Whoppers, I wasn’t complaining. It was served in a small bowl, and I appreciated the modest portion size. Combined with the lightness of the mousse and ice cream, it was a good way to end the meal, with pure, fresh-tasting ingredients that didn’t weigh you down. After the variety of Asian-influenced dishes of the night, it was a little odd how All-American this seemed, from the fresh berries to the crumble. Overall the dessert was comforting, and I was glad I had it to contrast against the more exotic black sesame cake.

 

Final Thoughts:

My Restaurant Week trip to Spice Market was a fantastic dinner that had me trying new flavors, while still enjoying some well-executed combos I was familiar with. It’s a great bang-for-your-buck spot for Restaurant Week, since the menu doesn’t skimp on portions, and offers both dishes that appear on the regular menu, as well some RW exclusives. And when you take into account the caliber of the chef behind Spice Market, it’s pretty affordable in general (they offer a $25 lunch “bento box” prix fixe, and the tasting menu at dinner is only $48). I’m eager to go back and dive into the menu a bit more, since there were plenty of dishes that appealed to me, across all the categories, from appetizers to dessert (Ovaltine Kulfi — what is that, and can I eat it now?).

All in all, Spice Market gets a strong recommendation from me for good service, a trendy and fun vibe, and for offering genre-bending dishes that challenge more staid palates without pushing too far into exotic ingredients or spice levels. To me, that’s one of the best goals for fusion restaurants — to offer a smooth entryway for diners into new flavor combinations and cuisines through more well-known techniques. At Spice Market, Jean Georges gently coaxes his diners to step through those orange curtains and sample some street food from worlds beyond the NY dirty-water dogs and a bag from Nuts-4-Nuts. Sure, you’re missing the hustle and bustle of humanity from the markets of Asia, but maybe if Jean Georges does his job right, you’ll want to pay a visit someday and see just what inspired him in the first place.

 

Spice Market

403 W 13th St

New York, NY 10014

spicemarketnewyork.com

Snackshots Seattle, Part 2: Sightseeing by the Mouthful

I could have gone on even longer talking about my visit to Pike Place Market, but I’d rather leave some elements of mystery for you all (mostly my parents, who are just going to have to go there when they visit Dan). Fortunately, I still have plenty to share, since the rest of my weekend was taken up by alternating bouts of food inhalation and mild exercise.

I got into Seattle on Friday, and spent the afternoon checking out the EMP Museum while Dan finished up at work. If you’re a music, pop culture, or sci fi fan, I highly recommend checking the museum out. Between the “Icons of Sci Fi” and the “Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic” exhibits, I could barely contain the geek glee welling up inside me. Tons of props and costumes from movies and TV, plus guided audio tours featuring George R.R. Martin and Jane Espenson. Well worth the admission fee.

Dinner on Friday night -- Tanglewood Supreme in Magnolia. Fine dining down a random alley?

Dinner on Friday night — Tanglewood Supreme in Magnolia. Fine dining down a random alley?

Eventually Dan and I met up for dinner, and after a little bit of research, we settled on the highly rated Tanglewood Supreme. Despite sounding more like a Taco Bell order than a “fisherman to table” spot, Tanglewood Supreme is actually a “local seafood bistro” found in the classy, pricey neighborhood of Magnolia. It is tucked away down an alley, but once you enter the restaurant, Tanglewood immediately gives off a familiar upscale vibe of modern restaurants in NY or California. The same industrial aesthetic, with an open kitchen and simple wooden tables and chairs. The staff was very nice and accommodating, and perfectly happy to answer all of our questions.

Tanglewood Surpreme is a little more familiar on the inside.

Tanglewood Supreme is a little more familiar on the inside.

Dan was very eager to do the 7-course tasting menu (a ridiculously reasonable $45), but the jet-lag had left me not quite hungry enough to face down multiple courses, not to mention the fact that our waiter informed us it would take two hours to serve. I promised to join Dan for the full Tanglewood experience on a future visit.

The Spring Baby Lettuces salad, with a delectable dollop of Humboldt Fog in the top right corner.

The Spring Baby Lettuces salad, with a delectable dollop of Humboldt Fog in the top right corner.

We both started with Spring Baby Lettuces Salad (radish, Humboldt Fog, champagne grapes, pecan vinaigrette, carrot and apple), mostly because it included Humboldt Fog, one of my favorite goat’s milk cheeses. Although it’s produced in California, I’ve seen it on a number of menus in NY (in fact, Murray’s sells it), and always enjoyed it by itself on cheese plates. As you can see in the photo, Humboldt Fog contains a line of of ash across the middle (like another fave of mine, Morbier), and has a strong, rich but tangy flavor, which worked really well against the bitterness of the lettuces and the acidity of the grapes. The salad was light and refreshing, and I was impressed with how all the components played off each other.

I was bound and determined to get my fill both of seafood and Asian food when in the Pacific Northwest, and managed to hit two birds with one stone at Tanglewood Supreme. As soon as I saw they had scallops, I was set (as I’ve mentioned before, scallops are one of my must-eat foods). Tanglewood Supreme’s Asian-influenced take on the mollusk featured Alaskan Weathervane Scallops with baby bok choy, thai jasmine rice, red curry sauce, and “naan puffs.” Dan went the more traditionally American route with the Rod & Reel King Salmon with rapini, mushrooms, bacon, celeriac purée, and june berry gastrique.

My entree of scallops, with a potent red curry sauce on the left. Both were great solo, but I found the combination unappetizing.

My entree of scallops, with a potent red curry sauce on the left. Both were great solo, but I found the combination unappetizing.

In what I would soon discover to be a common theme during my trip, the seafood in each of our dishes was of superbly fresh. The scallops were my favorite part of the whole dinner — caramelized on top, with a smooth buttery taste and just the right amount of chew. The baby bok choy was covered in a sesame glaze that paired well with the sweet scallops, but I found the red curry sauce, while appealing in flavor, too powerfully spicy for me. It ultimately overpowered the delicate subtlety of the scallops. However, the biggest disappointment were the naan puffs. Naan is one of my all-time favorite breads, to the point of dangerous overeating when I’m at an Indian buffet. But these puffs failed to be distinctly naan-like in any way — they were just like the pop-over version of donut holes, blandly bread-tasting without the smoky, charred yet chewy quality of well-executed naan.

Dan's salmon dish -- very fresh fish with fabulous sides.

Dan’s salmon dish — very fresh fish with fabulous sides.

Dan really enjoyed his salmon, and even as a conscientious objector to the Cult of Salmon, I could tell how great the fish was. Flaky, but with real integrity to the meat. But as much as he liked the fish, he really dug the sides. The celeriac puree flawlessly masqueraded as fluffy mashed potatoes, and the layers of contrasting flavors from the berry gastrique, rapini, and fatty bacon and mushrooms lent a vaguely Thanksgiving-ish feel to the dish. Dan cleaned his plate, and from the sample bites I had, I could easily understand why. Overall, while I wasn’t blown away by my dinner, I think I would be willing to try Tanglewood Supreme again, if only to see what the chef would come up with for the tasting menu.

 

Silly me, I thought that when Dan declined to order dessert at Tanglewood, it was because he was too full from dinner. In actuality, he had latched onto a comment I had made earlier about my list of Seattle must-eats (is anyone actually surprised that I did food research beforehand?). It turns out that Fainting Goat Gelato, one of the top-rated gelaterias in Seattle, is only a few blocks away from his house in Wallingford. So naturally we took a detour on the way home from Magnolia to say hello to a Fainting Goat.

Fainting Goat's whimsical logo on prominent display.

Fainting Goat‘s whimsical logo on prominent display, not once, but twice. 

Serious Eats’ review of Fainting Goat was chock full of praise, and boy were they on the money. I ordered the chocolate hazelnut and the toasted almond, while Dan ordered the tiramisu. I thought that FG’s equivalent of Nutella gelato had a well-defined hazelnut flavor, rich without tipping the scales into decadent. But I really went gaga for the toasted almond — it had a depth of flavor that totally surprised me — the kind of pure almond taste reaching beyond just a good extract and into the land of marzipan. While almonds have always been my nut of choice, between the almond croissant from Breads Bakery and this gelato, I’m discovering just how much I enjoy it as a leading ingredient in a food. Fainting Goat Gelato gets strong recommendation from me. They make all their gelato in-house, and have a rotating selection of flavors that changes daily. Dan said he had really enjoyed the fruit sorbets on previous visits, and thought that Fainting Goat’s coffee gelato was the best he’s ever had (a bold, if a bit sacrilege statement coming from a long-time Capogiro Gelato devotee).

Our orders of gelato at Fainting Goat, which lived up to their slogan: "so fainting good!"

Our orders of gelato at Fainting Goat, which lived up to their slogan: “so fainting good!”

 

After devouring the bounty of Pike Place Market on Saturday morning, Dan and I took a break from eating and strolled around a couple of Seattle parks. In the late afternoon, once our appetites had returned, we made our way to a couple more spots on Wallingford’s main drag of N. 45th St (apologies if there is another main drag in Wallingford — I’m working off of limited knowledge focused mostly on edible trivia). Looking for a pre-dinner drink, Dan suggested we check out Bottleworks Seattle, a specialty beer store and bar.

2013-07-13 18.36.16

Inside Bottleworks: a small sample of their enormous selection of fermented drinks.

Inside Bottleworks: a small sample of their enormous selection of fermented drinks.

Bottleworks inhabits a long and narrow space, each wall lined with fridge after fridge of alcoholic options, from US microbrews to beers from across the globe (I spotted a row of Ommegang bottles not too far down from some shelves full of honeywine and mead). Several beers are also available in kegs, a handful are featured on tap in the back of the store (for pints and growlers), and if you choose to stay and crack open your purchase, there are tables and chairs filling the middle of the space.

Washington St. Cider from Snowdrift -- my attempt to drink locally as well.

Washington State Hard Cider from Snowdrift — my attempt to drink locally as well.

Dan was thinking of trying out a new oatmeal stout, but I managed to convince him to try a local cider with me, since that was the reason he had suggested Bottleworks in the first place. The cider options were numerous and somewhat overwhelming, but luckily a staff member guided us towards the Washington State Hard Cider by Snowdrift Cider Co. It was smooth and easy to drink, dry yet delicate, with a slight fruity flavor that avoided the tooth-aching sweetness of some more common hard ciders. I got into hard ciders in college thanks to the cloyingly sugar-laden Woodchuck Granny Smith (employing the “this doesn’t taste like alcohol, that’s awesome!” strategy), but now I can barely stand the darker Woodchuck Amber or Angry Orchard stuff. Unfortunately, the day’s diet of donuts and crumpets had left me slightly underserved in the tolerance department, and I quickly found myself solidly tipsy (in all fairness, it was 7.8% ABV). After making fun of me for a few minutes, Dan finally relented and led the way to dinner, at his new favorite Thai restaurant, May.

May is located just down the block from Bottleworks, in a two story building. Downstairs is the bar, which also has a few tables, but the second floor of the building houses the actual restaurant. The dining room is small, made up of maybe a dozen tables, and decorate in a cozy domestic style that Dan says is allegedly due to moving a home from Thailand and rebuilding it piece for piece in Seattle. (My one cider-induced regret is that I neglected to take pictures of May‘s decor). The restaurant had a very neighborly, welcoming feel to it, and the service was friendly and lightning quick.

Our appetizers at May -- tender spare ribs on the bone, and filled-to-bursting fresh vegetable rolls.

Our appetizers at May — tender spare ribs on the bone, and filled-to-bursting fresh vegetable rolls.

We started with the fresh vegetable rolls and the pork spare ribs, which were delicious, but fade in my memory in the shadow of the pad thai. May has won “best pad thai in Seattle” multiple times, and so although I was tempted by an eggplant dish (you know how I feel about that nightshade), both Dan and the waitress recommended/insisted I opt for the pad thai. Just to round out my decidedly unkosher dinner, I chose shrimp pad thai, while Dan went with his usual, pad thai with chicken.

My unreal shrimp pad thai at May.

My unreal shrimp pad thai at May, with the pile of chile powder in the upper right corner.

The pad thai is brought out unassembled on a green banana leaf and is mixed at table-side to your preferred spice level. A small pile of chile powder sits in the corner of the plate to be blended in as per your direction. The only downside of this method is that klutzy eaters like me might end up accidentally scraping up some of the leftover powder, and then having a tremendously flattering coughing fit as a result. However, spice mishaps aside, this pad thai was hands down the best I’ve ever had.  The noodles were chewy but pliant, the vegetables were crunchy and perfectly seasoned (not the least bit oily from the sauce), and the shrimp had a great snap to them. Honestly, the protein involved was pretty secondary to the rest of the dish, so I don’t even think it matters whether you get chicken, shrimp, or opt out of meat altogether. If you think you’re a Thai fan, May is well-worth your time.

Macrina Bakery in Queen Anne -- perfect for a laid back brunch.

Macrina Bakery in Queen Anne — perfect for a laid back brunch.

I’m pretty sure the only reason we didn’t get dessert on Saturday night was because of our sugar-laden morning at Pike Place. But not to worry, Sunday was a brand new day to work on forming new cavities. Dan and I had grand plans of trying the famous croissants at Cafe Besalu, but the cafe was closed, the owners on vacation for two weeks. Rolling with the punches, we Yelped our way to the highly rated Macrina Bakery for brunch, and it ended up being a stupendous substitute. The location we went to was in Queen Anne, but there are also cafes in Belltown and SODO (whatever that stands for), according to Macrina’s website.

Enough pastry for you?

Enough pastry for you?

Despite having no connection to 90s faux-Latin dance crazes, Macrina is still a spot worth visiting for a low-key brunch or lunch. The location we went to was made up of the counter and kitchen area, next to a small dining room filled with half-a-dozen tables (with some outdoor seating available as well). The cafe is decorated in pleasant, muted tones of red, yellow, and gray, leading your eye towards the seemingly endless array of breads and pastries. I was sorely tempted by the scones and muffins (especially the Morning Glory Muffin, which our server repeatedly recommended), but the allure of the brunch display plates was even more powerful. The brunch menu features a small selection of dishes, ranging from the basic two-eggs with toast and potatoes to the “is-this-even-breakfast” absurdity of Macrina’s Brioche French Toast, slathered with cherry compote and amaretto creme fraiche (excuse me, what?).

The Market Special of the week at Macrina, with two eggs over easy.

The Market Special of the week at Macrina, with two eggs over easy.

Miraculously, I managed to show some tiny measure of restraint, opting for the Market Special, which that week featured two eggs how you like, with mushroom fritters, spinach and corn, herb-roasted potatoes, and a brioche roll — somehow encompassing nearly all of my favorite foods (just add in some chocolate and avocado somehow, and I would have hugged the chef). Although it seems like a lot of food, the portions were reasonable and filling. I was very impressed with the lightness of the mushroom fritters, that complemented the runny eggs and the freshness of the spinach and corn. What stopped me from finishing my plate was the additional Morning Bun Dan and I split. Continuing on his quest to eat all of the salmon in Seattle, Dan chose the Salmon Egg Bialy (“Onion Bialy topped with softly scrambled eggs, Gerard & Dominique cold-smoked salmon and chive crème fraîche. Served with herb-roasted potatoes.”).

We also had a Morning Bun on top of our separate brunch dishes, because one roll is just simply inadequate.

We also had a Morning Bun on top of our separate brunch dishes, because one roll is just simply inadequate.

 

The Morning Bun (a pre-Cronut era cousin of the croissant, baked in a muffin tin) was sweet from the swirl of vanilla sugar coating its insides, although I thought its flavors would have been further elevated if it had been served warm. Overall, I was glad I was sharing it, because flying solo that would have been a bit of a gut bomb, delicious as it was. Dan was very satisfied with his bialy and lox, and swore that he would bring his girlfriend Leah to Macrina for brunch on her next visit.

Inside D'Ambrosio Gelato in Ballard.

Inside D’Ambrosio Gelato in Ballard.

 

My last stop on my inaugural Seattle food tour was in Ballard, at D’Ambrosio Gelato. Some might find it unsettling that I would eat gelato twice in three days, but some people are just party poopers. D’Ambrosio was another spot mentioned in my Serious Eats-fueled field guide, so when Dan and I were strolling through the neighborhood during the Ballard Seafood Festival, we took a break from the heat with some authentic gelato, take two. Unintentionally emulating the flavors from my Fainting Goat experience, I ended up ordering the Stracciatella and the Bacio di Mama (aka “woman’s kiss”), a mix of hazelnuts and almonds in vanilla gelato, inspired by a type of Italian cookie. Fainting Goat’s toasted almond still triumphed in the gelateria Seattle battle, but the texture of D’Ambrosio‘s gelato is probably the closest I’ve found in America to what I ate in Rome. Thick and heavily churned, but somehow still airy enough to practically fly onto your spoon as you dipped into the cup. Like everything else I ate in Seattle, the high quality and freshness of the ingredients were evident from the first bite that touched my tongue.

My last bite in Seattle -- Stracciatella and Bacio di Dama from D'Ambrosio.

My last bite in Seattle — Stracciatella and Bacio di Dama from D’Ambrosio.

I would say, if you can, try to visit both Fainting Goat and D’Ambrosio Gelato. FG’s got a more wacky, free-spirited vibe to it, and features more unexpected flavors like Guinness or Banana Cream Pie, that aim to expand your gelato palate. But D’Ambrosio’s more traditional menu is extremely well-executed, and better than many of the places I’ve tried in NY. It takes a deft hand to make the relatively commonplace Stracciatella a flavor you’ll want to order again and again.

 

All in all, no one can argue that I failed to eat well in Seattle. However, for all of the donuts and chocolate and cinnamon buns, the element of the city’s food scene that left the strongest impression were those largely untouched in the kitchen — the fruits and vegetables. Much like my time in Israel, I found myself marveling at the sheer juiciness of a peach, or the crunch of the bean sprouts in my pad thai. New York may have Seattle beat on Michelin-starred haute cuisine, but once you step into the ring of quality of everyday, street-level produce, Seattle’s got a mean right hook. For an Oreo-obsessee, it’s a little surreal that I’m actually counting down the days until I can eat some more fresh Rainier cherries. Not that I’d turn down some mini donuts on the side. Hope to see you again soon, Seattle (oh, and Dan, too, I guess).

 

Tanglewood Supreme

3216 W Wheeler St,

Seattle, WA 98199

http://tanglewoodsupreme.com/

 

Fainting Goat Gelato

1903 North 45th Street

Seattle, WA 98103

http://faintinggoatseattle.blogspot.com/

 

Bottleworks

1710 N 45th St #3

Seattle, WA 98103

bottleworksbeerstore.blogspot.com

 

May

1612 N. 45th St

Seattle, WA 98103

http://maythaiseattle.com/

 

Macrina Bakery

615 West McGraw Street

Seattle, WA 98119

http://www.macrinabakery.com/

 

D’Ambrosio Gelato

5339 Ballard Ave NW

Seattle, WA 98107

http://www.dambrosiogelato.com/