When a man sidles up to you at a bakery and tells you to squeeze the babka, there might be a couple of things going on. Either he’s flirting with you in the universal language of carbs, or he’s pretty damned excited about finding the freshest cinnamon babka. We selected the most pliant loaf (none, he said, were more than a few hours old), and when I tried it I knew it was worth the exploratory squeezing. Read more…
I don’t claim to be an expert on the best hot chocolate mix, but cocoa is one of my favorite winter treats. I always seem to have at least two varieties on hand: one I can make with water, like Swiss Miss, and a “fancy” kind, like Ghirardelli, that I make at luxurious moments like when I realize I still have milk that hasn’t gone bad. Read more…
The sign does not lie. The doughnuts from Dough are clouds-parting, angels-singing glorious, and the best doughnuts I’ve had in New York City. My first bite of one of these mini miracles occurred at Smorgasburg last summer, but since the Saturday-only food fest paused for the winter, I’ve been unable to get them without venturing to the source, Dough’s bakery in Clinton Hill. That is, until I stumbled across this sign outside Gimme Coffee on Lorimer Street. Read more…
Puddin’ is so good that I once went there four nights in a row, and I don’t even live in the East Village anymore. It’s so good that on weekends I curse the hibernating L train for leaving me stranded in Brooklyn and Puddinless til Monday. It’s so good that the only thing that would make it better is if they opened a branch by me in Williamsburg, which would probably seem right at home between the burg’s very own Crif Dogs and Caracas Arepa Bar. Read more…
Stroopwafels are my all-time favorite cookie, but they can be devilishly difficult to find. I suppose scarcity has a way of making the heart grow fonder, but when I do amass a stockpile of them my fondness doesn’t fade the way it does halfway into a box of Girl Scout cookies. What makes this the perfect cookie is the combination of textures. Read more…
Have you ever walked into a situation where there was so much good stuff to eat that you felt panicky from realizing that you could not have it all? This was the state of Snackish when faced with Smorgasburg, the Saturday-only food fest on the Williamsburg waterfront that features 100+ vendors. I mean, I knew what I was in for—I’d even prepared by wearing an elastic-waist skirt, a dual-purpose headband/sweatband, and an old t-shirt that could take some food dribbles without causing major upset. Read more…
Update 2011: Vandaag has closed. I went to Vandaag in search of stroopwafels. This elusive cookie comes from Holland–which always sounds more proper in conversation than “Netherlands,” by the way. Stroopwafels are a snack consisting of caramel squished between two buttery wafers, often consumed with coffee, and placed on top of the cup so the steam makes the center gooey. Read more…
“Glorified Popeye’s,” he muttered. “No it’s more special than that,” I said. We both fell to the task of devouring fried chicken down to the bone. Maybe I thought it was special because of the setting—a summer night with a hint of fall, after the most photogenic sunset the city had seen in months; the JMZ train rumbling not-unpleasantly overhead, a beer cooling in my hands. But on second thought, maybe it really was the chicken. Read more…
Rice to Riches sells rice pudding. Really, that’s it. But wait! This isn’t like other rice pudding you’ve had; this rice pudding is FUN! At least, everything about this shop pleads for you to think so–from the pod-like front doors, to the overly-designed packaging, which consists of indestructible orange plastic UFO-shaped dishes and odd curving implements from a future where spoons are obsolete. Read more…
Papabubble, a downtown candy lab specializing in flavorful hand-made hard candies, smells like the inside of a sugar bowl. Jars of crayon-colored treats line the walls, alongside oversized spiralling lollipops and jewel-hued ring pops. There’s usually a couple of candymakers at work behind the counter, in what amounts to a free show. Today they’re busy chopping up long glossy sticks of spun sugar into bite-sized discs. “Is that a ghost?” I ask, pointing to the tiny freakish face imprinted on each one, and I’m told it’s actually a special Hannibal Lecter Halloween candy. I’m handed a sample, which dissolves into bright mango on my tongue. Read more…
