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. Not to mention the girth-obsessed signage everywhere,  proclaiming “big is beautiful” and “no skinny bitches.” Located smack in shopping-obsessed Soho, it’s no surprise this place is a draw for out-of-towners. But if there are two things that can do battle with “touristy” and “kitschy,” they are “creamy” and “delicious.”

I admit it, this probably the best rice pudding I’ve ever had; and some of the best pudding I’ve had, period. If I’m ever packed off to a retirement home where I’m forced to make do with watery instant rice pudding, you can bet I’ll be mail ordering this stuff by the tub. The rice is cooked to ideal tenderness, and compliments a deliriously creamy texture that can only be faulted for being too rich. Half a serving of their smallest size, the “solo” ($6) is usually enough to send “full now please stop” signals ricocheting from my brain. Flavors have been composed to mimic their real-world counterparts with satisfying accuracy: coast to coast cheesecake, fluent in french toast, and take me to tiramisu being among my favorites. I’d advise avoiding citrus-based flavors like surrender to mango, which is completely overpowering. My all-time favorites are the relatively-plain category 5 caramel and understanding vanilla, with a topping like crumbled graham crackers or caramel sauce ($1 each). Luckily, free samples of puddings are available and limited only by how much you wish to irritate the counter person helping you.

The only thing that really nags me is the packaging. Once you get past the initial novelty, it seems a bit of a waste. Sure the tupperware-grade bowls are reusable, but I don’t need more plastic dishes. Throw my pudding in a paper cup so I at least feel like I’m not poisoning planet earth, why don’t you? Help a skinny bitch out here.

Rice to Riches
37 Spring St. between Mulberry St. and Mott St.
Sun-Thu 11am-11pm, Fri-Sat 11am-1am.

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.

Watching candy being made is a strangely mesmerizing experience (see ropes of candy being pulled by hand in this CoolHunting video) and since Papabubble makes custom candies and sugar sculptures on request, there’s usually some new part of the process to watch, or a different flavor to sample, each time you visit. The prices for pre-packaged candies are not cheap–2oz bags run $5, 7oz small jars are $14.50, and a one-of-a-kind ring pop is $20—but the candies come in beautiful bespoke designs each one packs a lot of flavor.

Varieties include pink grapefruit, raspberry, anise, bergamot, pear, fizzy cola, red chili, ginger lemon, and several others. My favorite so far is watermelon with salt and chili (spicy, sweet, salty–just like the watermelon sugar cocktail from Mayahuel in candy form). This time around I did not spot the watermelon candies but I was sorely tempted by the black and white “Halloween mix” and ended up purchasing a big cherry-flavored black heart lollipop ($7). Highly recommended stop for sampling, browsing, or picking out a cute gift.

Papabubble
380 Broome St. between Mott St. and Mulberry St.
Tue.-Sat. 12pm-9pm, Sun 12pm-6pm
Other locations in Amersterdam, Barcelona, and Tokyo

Well this is terrible news. Joe Ades, peddler of vegetable peelers and sidewalk personality has died, as reported by the New York Times. Always stylishly dressed in a sportcoat or vest, peeling carrots with orange-stained, latex-gloved fingers, Joe reeled in window shoppers all over town with his cockney carnival barker’s voice, pushing $5 peelers with more passion than an army of QVC showmen. Joe, it turns out, lived in a swanky Upper East Side apartment (and he always seemed especially proud of his appearance in Vanity Fair). I’ve stopped to watch him in Union Square in the dead of winter and Soho under the beating sun, always joking with customers and adding to his fistful of cash. It always struck me how much he seemed to enjoy his job. I’ll miss seeing him.

The Van Leeuwen Artisan Ice Cream truck sits in a sunbeam on a quiet Soho side-street, like an upscale Mr. Softee patiently waiting to be discovered by the hordes crossing Prince Street. Unlike a truck with an irksome jingle, however, Van Leeuwan exudes class, from the gentle yellow color and elegant font used on the vehicle, to the flavors list, which ruminates on the high-quality ingredients used in its ice cream.

There’s some examples of this globe-trotting, gourmand-speak on the web site: hormone-free milk from cows that graze “in pastures in the foothills of the Adirondacks,” vanilla beans harvested from “organic bourbon and Tahitian vanilla orchids grown in Papua New Guinea,” pistachios grown “in the rugged lands of Bronte, in southern Italy.” I expected that the thoughtfulness employed to pick and present these ingredients would also produce a tastier-than-average ice cream. But while this is different from your average cone, it’s pretty unmemorable.

If you’ve ever had homemade ice cream, that’s what it’s like–a bit icy in texture, and lacking in the upfront flavor and cloying sweetness. I thought that Van Leeuwan’s product tasted fresh and clean, but this was probably mostly a result of how it was presented. I sampled the Currants and Cream ($3.95 for a small) first, and ended up eating all the tart little frozen currants, leaving the uninteresting cream behind in a trash can. The subtle frozen heat in the Ginger flavor was intriguing, but quickly grew boring with only a few bursts of candied ginger in the mix. The winner of the three I tried was the Giandijia, a blend of hazlenut and Michel Cluizel chocolate. It had a subtle rich chocolate flavor, nicely balanced with earthy hazlenut, with a creamier texture than the other two.

While I’m a little confused by the paradox of an environmentally-friendly ice cream truck (how much gas does it take to fill that thing, let alone air-lift pistachios from Italy?), the use of some local, small-farm products and cups made from natural fibers is a nice touch. Plus the location alone, in the wilds of uber-luxurious Soho, makes it a refreshing pit-stop after an exhausting day of shopping. Be sure to get your artisanal ice cream fix before the last lazy days of summer slip away. 

Van Leeuwen on Gourmet.com 

Van Leeuwen ice cream truck - Greene Street between Prince and Spring Street from 1pm-8pm; University Place between 11th and 12th St. 8-11pm.
Check their site for more locations.

It’s easy to miss L’asso–maybe it’s the abstract signage. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s a block away from Lombardi’s, a New York institution. I went a few times when it first opened, liked it, and forgot about it. It’s doubly easy to miss the fact that they serve pizza by the slice, something that Lombardi’s and many other famous, old-school pizzerias don’t do. But in case you think they don’t know their pizza, L’asso prides itself on adhering to the rules for Pizza D.O.C.–guidelines that specify the type of tomatoes (san marzano), the type of mozzarella (buffalo milk), and the type of oven (domed, brick, and heated to 420 degrees), deemed necessary by the maestros Italy to produce a genuine neapolitan pizza.

The atmosphere is very laid-back chic-cafe, with a wine list and dubby mood music, and a fairly extensive menu with about eighteen varieties of individual-sized pizzas. The slices ($2) are behind the counter, and since most of their customers are ordering off the menu, yours will have probably been sitting for a little while and warrant reheating. It’s still as decent a slice as you’ll find in the area - just stick to the margherita and steer clear of the blandly cheesy bianco. On Monday through Friday they have a happy hour special - $1 slices with $3 Brooklyn Lager on tap. They were churning out slices at a good clip during my happy hour-timed visit so mine was fresh from the oven, with a light, slightly chewy crust, sweet-and-tangy sauce, just a few melty daubs of fresh mozzarella, and drizzled in olive oil. Granted, it was about half the size of a regular slice but it was a freakin’ DOLLAR so I wasn’t complaining.

I am over sloppy, face-sized, cardboard-crusted Artichoke slices–this is closer to a slice as it should be.

L’asso 192 Mott Street at Kenmare
Sun-Wed 12pm-12am, Thurs-Sat 12pm-3am