Pierre Hermé in Paris, France

I was three days into my Paris trip still waiting for my "Wow" moment with Parisian food. Things had been good--and a select few great--but nothing had completely blown me away yet. As luck would have it, Day Three was also the day I would be trying the number one spot on my dessert list: Pierre Hermé.

Most famous for his macarons, Hermé has fashioned his fair share of original flavor combinations. To name a few: Jardin Oriental (rose, orange blossom and candied ginger), Jardin de l'Atlas (lemon, orange blossom and Maquis honey) and Montebello (pistachio & raspberry). What I was lining up for is his most famous flavor creation, Ispahan, in both macaron and croissant form.

What is Ispahan, you ask? Raspberry and lychee with a hint of rose. Going in, I wasn't entirely sure that this would be as great as advertised--my experiences with floral flavors has usually been negative--but my doubts were put to rest when the duo ahead of me in line ordered five of the seven remaining Ispahan croissants!

From my first bite of the croissant, I knew I had walked through a doorway into a new world, forever changed. With a thin, sweet glaze on top of the pastry, the tart raspberry intertwined with the sweet lychee on a floor of soft rose petals. The words from my mouth were expletives with modifiers of the divine persuasion.

When my trekking brought me near a different location of Pierre Hermé on Day Four, I made sure to stop in. This location did not have pastries of the croissant variety. It didn't appear that they had sold out; I could be wrong, but it appeared croissants simply weren't one of the items offered. Luckily, the macarons I had eaten on Day 3 were the best macarons I've had in my life--and you thought I'd forgotten to discuss those. Highlights of the ten flavors I tried from their Autumn Collection were Ispahan, Mogador (passion fruit with milk chocolate), Infiniment Chocolat Paineiras (pure origin Brazilian chocolate from the Paineiras plantation) and Infiniment Cassis (black currant).

TL;DR: If you go to Paris, make sure to stop in at Pierre Hermé, but while you can't go wrong with the macarons, check that the location offers Ispahan croissants. Or just go to the location I went to: 72 Rue Bonaparte in Saint-Germain.

Spain Exp'ained: Part 3

Not pictured: Carrot and Mandarin.

In Part 2, I discussed the history of Madrid and pastry. This time, I'll talk about the art of Madrid and gelato.

Retiro Park.

While the Museo Nacional del Prado seems to be Madrid's most famous art museum, from all I read it focused on art I don't care about: portraits of posed rich people, devotional pictures of deifically-rendered saints and biblical figures being lit by the heavens whilst suffering or being blessed. But the museum was free from 6 to 8 that particular day, just enough time for me to rush in to see the works of two artists who differed from the rest of the pack. Hieronymus Bosch did some paintings that look like what Dali would have made were he an evangelical Catholic at his peak. Surreal and whimsical, but at times a little creepy. Most notable is "The Garden of Earthly Delight," a triptych which depicts heaven, an overindulgent earth and hell, which kind of resembles Monty Python animation. Also featured there were some works by Francisco de Goya. He did some paintings of war that, rather than simply depicting spotless heroics, show the inhumane moments of battle, "El Tres de Mayo" especially. He also did the nauseating/haunting painting of "Saturn Devouring his Son" and the striking painting "The Dog."

Equipo Crónica's Espectador de
espectadores. Max Ernst's Red Birds.
Oskar Schlemmer's costumes
for Triadisches Ballett.

More my speed than the Prado was the modern art Museo Reina Sofia, which I went to a different day. This was the attraction that most excited me about Madrid and it certainly held up. It featured some classics (most notably Picasso's "Guernica," along with a lot of Dali and Miro), some lesser-knowns and some up-and-comers. I was excited that they also had some of the dance costumes Oskar Schlemmer designed during the Bauhaus movement, something I'd seen video of in theatre history class. A nice mix of mediums, complete with intriguing head scratchers and obvious masterpieces. Plenty of forgettable things and pretentious b.s. too, just to keep them honest. With four floors in three connected buildings, I was arted out when I left at 7:30. Adjacent to the museum is Retiro Park, whose gorgeous grounds deserved more time for exploration than I left in my day.

Museums are great and all, but the finest work of art I experienced in Madrid was the extraordinary gelato at Giangrossi. I was bummed they didn't have the 40 flavors I'd heard they had, but with 15 or so to choose from I still had trouble deciding. The best two flavors I had were Zanahoria y Mandarina (carrot and mandarin; a citrus blast with a clean aftertaste) and Mascarpone de Frutos Rojos (mascarpone with berries; a subtle base with a tart punch of berries swirled in). The other two flavors were Dulce de Leche (which was sweet sweet sweet and carmelly) and Chocolate con/with Cookies (deep dark chocolate). 

Spain Exp'ained: Part 2

Long lines and a fancy pink sign.

Sculpture in Puerta del Sol.

I began my first morning in Madrid by heading to Puerta del Sol on the Metro. I was running late for my walking tour, so I didn't check out the square. Instead, I was rushed to Chocolateria San Gines for their famed churros con chocolate, which they've served since 1894. I thought they were just okay, but that's probably the chocolate snob in me and the budding doughnut aficionado--churros of course being another culture's interpretation of fried dough. For a better chocolate experience, I'd recommend nearby Valor, where I had an exquisite, thick-as-fondue chocolate-orange drink. (Based on appearance, the churros seem about the same as Chocolateria San Gines.)

Plaza Mayor.

My free three-hour tour, given by SANDEMANs New Europe, began at Plaza Mayor which was in the process of becoming a Christmas market. (Throughout my November trip, this was a theme: Decorated areas that might look spectacular lit up, look a bit anachronistic with the unlit, skeletal beginnings of Christmas decorations exposed by daylight.) We learned that the square once carried out some brutal torture techniques below street level, using a wheel to tighten a rope around a victim's neck and drive a screw into the back of their neck. Other highlights from the tour:

• We reviewed eight monarchs worth of history from Felipe I to Carlos II. There was a lot of inbreeding from marrying their cousins, resulting in an impotent, deformed and mentally disabled Carlos II.

• The Spanish Inquisition (which went on for 300 years or so, amounting in the deaths of around 3,000 people and the persecution of countless others) is a primary reason ham and pork are such a point of pride in Spanish culture. When the non-pork-eating Jews and Muslims all converted (or "converted") to avoid persecution under the Inquisition, they decided the best way to prove they were true Catholics was to hang a pig leg in the window. These legs are ubiquitous in modern-day Madrid.

The Royal Palace.

• Many streets in Madrid feature descriptive pictures of the street names accompanying the street sign to aid the illiterate populace from an earlier time.

• Though the size of the grounds do not compare to Versailles, the palace itself is the largest in western Europe. The Royal Palace tour, which I did later, was a somewhat quick experience for the cost, but the there was still plenty of awe at the decadent rooms within. Nice views in the courtyard too.

• We learned about Spain's recent history under Juan Carlos, who in the 1970s used his royal power to turn Spain into a democracy! There was a military coupe a couple years or so later, but it failed, bringing even more public adoration to Juan Carlos. In recent years, however, he has been criticized for his spending during rough economic times.

Napolitana de crema.

After all that walking and book larnin', I had earned a tasty treat. And the place to do that was right back where I started: Plaza del Sol. After a dinner of pinchos (little appetizers served on a slice of toasted French bread), I grabbed pastries at La Mallorquina. Of the things I had there, I will point you toward two. First, the napolitana de crema, a croissant with custard inside, but not runny custard like you find in doughnuts. In addition to being thick like bechamel or cream cheese baked into a muffin, the filling was subtly sweet while still bring dense, like an Italian pastry filling. The croissant was flaky with a thin and sweet brush of glaze. Second, I'd recommend the Pringles-shaped almond cookies called tejas. There tastiness is like the buttery cookie part of an M&M cookie, tejas are crispy on the outside, while having a chewier coconut macaroon consistency inside. They might not look like much, but they're great!

In Part 3, we'll talk about art and Madrid's best gelato.

Spain Exp'ained: Part 1

Christmas lights in Saville, outside a tasty upscale tapas spot, Enrique Becerra.

After spending nine autumn days in three different Spanish cities, I had many stories to tell. The entire trip was notable, whether the Gaudí architecture in Barcelona, the history and art of Madrid or the seafood of Seville. But when measuring the value of each city on the quality of the desserts I consumed--as always, I had done my research beforehand--the winner was Madrid.

Before we can delve into the food, we must look at the pictures of pretty things. Then we can move on to the pastry of Part 2 and the gelato of Part 3.

Gaudí's Park Güell, Barcelona.

Parque del Retiro, Madrid.

Palacio Real de Madrid.

Plaza de España, Seville.

Octopus Galliga at El 3 Oro. Saville.

Parc de la Ciutadella, Barcelona.

Gaudí's La Sagrada
Familia, Barcelona.

Christmas lights, Seville.

Helado Puertorriqueño en Heladeria Lares

The couple up front is selling lottery tickets. Resist(!) so you can buy ice cream.

"Can I try the Bacalao ice cream, please?" I asked.

"Bacalao?" Based on her tone, she was wondering if she had translated the word incorrectly for me. Why else would a person want to try it? It's not like there weren't other options and each customer was allowed a mere two samples.

But I needed to make mine count. When in Puerto Rico, right?

"Sí."

The girl behind the counter gave me both a taster spoon with Bacalao on it and a horrified expression. Soon a nauseating bite of ocean water clouded my sense of bewildered amusement. This was Heladeria Lares and I was eating Salted Cod ice cream.

---

Located about ninety minutes west of our hotel in San Juan, not far from Camuy River Cave Park and one hour from Rincón Lighthouse on Puerto Rico's west coast, the town of Lares is comprised of a steep hill. At the top is the town square, tucked amongst colorful are-they-closed-or-vacant businesses. Among them is Heladeria Lares, the most universally revered ice cream shop in Puerto Rico based on my research. Through its open entryway are eight ice cream freezers. And inside are 40-50 different flavors.

While I would've eaten it just by
treating the freezer like a trough, sadly
the front did not open for customers.

For shy eaters, they feature the standard fare one would expect to find at any purveyor of frozen dairy delicacies: vanilla with chocolate chips, chocolate, chocolate with chocolate chips, cookies and cream, strawberry cheesecake, amaretto and vanilla with caramel and chocolate. These are mostly tucked in the back though, signaling that they are not the main event.

Most abundant are the fruit flavors. Some are flavors we all know well, such as banana, strawberry and orange. Others are recognizable tropical fruits, such as pineapple, passion fruit, papaya, guava and mango. Still more are less recognizable tropical fruits, such as acerola, soursop, tamarind, sea grape, breadfruit and guama (aka ice cream fruit).

But fruit isn't the only produce represented in the flavors at Heladeria Lares. Garlic, ginger, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot and corn ice creams are also available. For those seeking nuts and legumes, there's pistachio, peanut, almond and peanut with almonds.

Then there are other, more culturally specific flavors to excite more adventurous eaters. Some of these are inspired by traditional desserts found around the island, such as sweet plantain, coconut with cinnamon, sweet rice, dulce de leche, almond cake and sesame seed candy. Others are inspired by traditional entrées and side dishes, including rice and beans, pumpkin soup, arroz con gandules and fried and salted cod. (With crazy flavors like this, it's no wonder that the guy from Bizarre Foods has also been there.)

Sweet plantain (tan), rice and beans (yellow),
acerola (pink), chocolate with almonds and orange.

There were even more flavors, but taking pictures of eight display cases in a crowded ice cream shop is mad hard, yo.

Wanting to embrace the widest possible spectrum of flavors, I settled on four flavors, ranging from familiar to unusual. I was quick to choose acerola, a pink cherry whose tart juice I drank at dinner the night before (San Juan's Jose Enrique, whose red snapper ranks as a Top 3 meal of my life), falling in love instantaneously. Also in my bowl was rice and beans, which was a pleasant surprise during my sampling phase. It was subtly sweet and earthy with a mildly gritty texture. I immediately regretted getting the sweet plantain, which had more of a banana flavor than I'd expected. (Curséd fruit.) And while the chocolate with almonds was forgettable and far-from-rich, my date's orange was so refreshing and citrus-y sweet that I had no trouble helping her finish it.

Undoubtedly, some American customers will be surprised by the texture of the ice cream. Given its crystally and thin texture, plus how light it is--think melty pushpop--I wouldn't be surprised if the non-fruit flavors are actually ice milk, or something similar. The fruit flavors are assuredly a water-based sorbet. But while the texture can be jarring and the (probable) use of milk instead of cream drastically altered the experience of my chocolate with almonds, I think that ultimately most customers would enjoy Heladeria Lares for its off-the-beaten-path charm and its brightly-flavored fruit sorbets, not to mention its stranger flavors available for sampling.

-----

Vocabulario de Heladeria Lares 
(Lares Ice Cream Shop Vocabulary)

acerola: a pink cherry, which according to Wikipedia is also known as Barbados cherry, West Indian cherry and wild crepemyrtle
ajo: garlic

Stack the scoops high.

almendra: almond
arroz con dulce: sweet rice (rice pudding)
arroz con gandules: Wikipedia says: "Arroz con gandules is a combination of rice, pigeon peas and pork, cooked in the same pot with Puerto Rican-style sofrito."
arroz con habichuela: rice and beans
bacalao: cod
batata: sweet potato
bizcocho almendrado: almond cake
calabaza: pumpkin
cazuela: pumpkin soup
china: a Puerto Rican slang for orange
chocolate con almendra: chocolate with almond
chocolate con pedazos de chocolate: chocolate with chocolate chips
coquito acanelado: coconut with cinnamon
dulce de ajonjoli: sesame seed candy
dulce de leche: Similar to caramel in texture, taste and color, dulce de leche uses sweetened milk, sometimes goat's milk or coconut milk. 
fresa: strawberry
guama: ice cream fruit (or Wikipedia)
guanábana: soursop
guayaba: guava
guineo: banana (Side note: For anyone crazy enough to like the fruit that is best forgotten, Lares is home to an annual banana festival, so this might be especially good...for what it is, at least.)
jengibre: ginger
lechoza: papaya
maíz: corn
maní: peanut
maní con almendra: peanuts with almonds
pana: breadfruit (Thanks to curiouskitty for the help on this one.)
parcha: passion fruit
piña: pineapple
plátano dulce: sweet plantain
queso con fresa: strawberry cheesecake

Two sample limit: cruelty to afficionados

tamarindo: tamarind, which is used in making sweet and sour sauce
uva playera: sea grape (Is it a grape? Is it something so much more? I didn't get to try it, sadly.)
vainilla caramelo y chocolate: vanilla, caramel and chocolate
vainilla con galletas: cookies and cream (vanilla)
vailnilla con pedazos de chocolate: vanilla with chocolate chips
zanahoria: carrot

Note: I have elected to use the "International" tag because this food is representative of the culture that already existed before Puerto Rico was a U.S. territory.

Cuckoo for Kuchen

“At our cake buffet nobody comes over so simple - in the proverbial and also in the literal sense!” --translation from Café Gnosa's webpage

On the morning of my 29^th birthday, I awoke in a hostel in Hamburg, Germany. Folded-like-an-accordion on the too-short top bunk, slumber had proven difficult because my two African-born roommates were attempting, despite distinctly different dialects, to communicate with one another in broken English. Having already planned for an early start, I arose, dressed in my non-cotton clothing, packed my poncho and umbrella, and traveled through the steady drizzle into the city center for the three-hour Hamburg Free Walking Tour. Eventually my tourism turned gastronomic, but before I begin my dessert coverage I must first praise Germany’s glorious second city and share some of what I learned, thanks to the New Europe Walking Tour company.

Like most cities I love, the water has been the major factor in shaping Hamburg’s identity. We’re not talking about your average river city, though; Hamburg had been a major harbor city for as long as recorded time. Nearly all of the stories and history learned on the tour returned to the water (as in the gruesome death of the famed pirate Klaus Störtebeker) or the great fire of 1842. The city’s older buildings and churches are nearly all the products of detailed restoration, as necessitated by both the fire and WWII bombings. Our tour wound all around: across small bridges through the old town (swans in the waterways), the warehouse district (beautiful brick) and HafenCity, the huge inner-urban housing project that will increase the city’s population by 40%!

Three hours of walking may sound like a lot, but it isn’t enough when it’s your birthday and it’s been blasphemously cake-less. Kein Kuchen ist nicht gut...no cake is no good. So at the conclusion of the tour I walked back toward the Rathaus (town hall), past the train station and further east along Lange Reihe. My destination was Café Gnosa, revered in my research as the best dessert in Hamburg. I couldn't decide what to order, so I treated myself to what I like to call the birthday special: three slices for take away. They were so tasty, and the tempting options at Café Gnosa so plentiful, that I stopped to get three more before I boarded my train out of Hamburg.

Schoko-Orangen Torte (chocolate-orange torte), Rhabarberstreusel Torte (rhubarb cake), PflaumemMandel Torte (almond plum cake), JohannisbeerQuark Torte (red currant cheesecake), Chocolate Pie (chocolate pie). All of them were delicious, but one reigned supreme: AprikosenNuss Torte (apricot cake with hazelnuts). The tartness of apricot, the roasted flavor of hazelnut, the richness of spiced cake. It was dense, more solid than springy. I'm not sure what spices were added to this cake to make it so good but I have been craving it ever since.

The rain never let up during the three days I spent in the city, but this didn't spoil my trip. My Merrill shoes, however, which have kept me dry since their initial use backpacking in Italy, met their sad end. (RIP) Casualties aside, Hamburg ranks high on my list of cities to revisit and Café Gnosa’s apricot cake with hazelnuts ranks as the best dessert I had in Germany.

The second openly gay...ice cream?

Breaking news! While I was busy writing my multi-pan review of Ben & Jerry's Class of 2012, they did something worthy of absolute praise! After creating the first openly GLBT ice cream, Hubby Hubby back in 2009, Ben & Jerry's is doing it again with the UK launch of Apple-y Ever After.

Read this article: "Ben & Jerry's, the Vermont proprietor of ice-cream activism, has produced a limited-edition batch of apple pie-flavored pints—called "Apple-y Ever After"—to show its support for same-sex marriage in the U.K., where a gay rights organization has drafted a bill to legalize weddings between same-sex couples...'Sticking up for civil rights by a progressive company like Ben & Jerry's goes together like big chunks and swirls in ice cream,' Sean Greenwood, a spokesman for Ben & Jerry's U.S. operation, wrote."

Turkish Hospitality

My friend Lisa shared this video of a Turkish ice cream vendor having some fun with a tourist. The scoop-smith’s talents bridge the gap between Cocktail bartender and vaudeville clown. Really quite impressive! Give it a watch.

Belgian Waffles, Ch. 3: Test Kitchen

With certain odds surmounted, it was time to enter the gauntlet. Google searches for “authentic Belgian waffle recipe” (liege waffles) returned a bevy of options. Wise with world travel, I was able to quickly omit any recipe that had no mention of Belgian pearl sugar. This secret ingredient, which caramelizes when cooked, is what separates the real waffles from mere dented pastry.

I opted to first follow the recipe on the back of the Lars’ Own Belgian Pearl Sugar box. The dough was dense and my waffle-maker had trouble shutting. The resulting waffles were both crunchy like a cookie and hard like stale French bread.


Next I doubled the yeast used in the Lars’ Own recipe, which resulted in a delicious waffle by American standards. Fluffy, but neither sticky nor chewy. But I knew I was on the right track. See that small, dark area on the waffle below? That amount was sticky/chewy perfection.


Then I tried this recipe, but I did a somewhat hasty preparation. “Softened butter,” my mom explained, “is used instead of melted butter for a reason.” The final of the three waffles was the closest I’ve gotten.


The lesson, for anyone else attempting to bring the flavors of Belgium into their kitchen, is to add patience to the ingredient list. Given the amount of time needed, one must either (a) sacrifice the self-righteous idea that waffles are exclusively a breakfast commodity or (b) wake up super-early and accept stabbing hunger for several hours. I’ve made my decision and now the test kitchen is operating into the night hours.

Belgian Waffles, Ch. 2: Belgian pearl sugar

When I wasn’t drooling in chocolate shop windows or nose-deep in a waffle, I was trying to learn government secrets, specifically what makes Belgian waffles superior. I learned that their distinct flavor and texture come from using a special type of sugar, Belgian pearl sugar, notable for how it caramelizes into what is being made. I planned to spread this information like a WikiLeak when I returned stateside, but first I had some exporting to do. I was crestfallen when the sugar wasn’t available at any of the shops in the Brussels airport, including the airport grocery store. (I drowned my sorrows in a quart of blood orange juice, which I downed before I went through security. Lesson: never shotgun blood orange juice for the pain of it going down the wrong way is unmatched.)

When I returned home, my Google searches told me that Belgian pearl sugar is not easily found in America (Uff da!), but was often sold at IKEA (Var sa god!). But how would I get out to the suburbs? I began scrolling through my mental list of friends with cars who could be easily bribed with waffles that required no syrup. But then it came to me: IKEA is Swedish and I live in Andersonville, the Swedish neighborhood of Chicago. Perhaps there would be a less-than-obvious trend of Scandinavians stocking their stores with Belgian products. So I summoned Viking-like courage and barreled into the bleak Chicago winter toward Erikson’s Delicatessen.

The plump, blond proprietress of the family-owned business—open since 1925; my Swedish uncle recalls going there as a boy—eagerly waddled out from behind the counter. “We had some [Var sa god!], but it looks like we’re out. [Uff da!]” I inquired about the Swedish pearl sugar on their shelves, but she let me know that substitutions would not work, especially when making authentic Belgian waffles. It seems that despite possessing nearly identical names, Belgian pearl sugar—notable for how it caramelizes—is diametrically opposed to Swedish pearl sugar—notable for how it does not cook into what is being made. You’ve probably seen Swedish pearl sugar before; it is used for the large ornamental crystals found on Swedish cookies. (I wondered: Did the first translator to use the phrase “pearl sugar” feel ripped off when another translator chose the same phrasing? Was the second translator using the phrase despite crucial differences during chemical reactions more foolish or less foolish than Columbus when he declared America to be India?) The plump, blond proprietress told me she would get a shipment of Belgian pearl sugar later that week.

When I returned I was hungry and desperate. I had called ahead to make sure they were stocked and an impatient, bossy man answered the phone. When I asked if the shipment of Belgian pearl sugar had come in yet, he checked and let me know that they did have some pearl sugar. But he had not specified its country of origin. Didn’t he know the difference between the two pearl sugars stocked at his family’s store? He was not nearly as knowledgeable as the Swedish woman from last time. Uncertain of my waffle-y fate, I once again put on my horned hat to go pillaging in the cold.

Erikson’s was packed but thankfully they were stocked with the sugar I sought as well as its inferior cousin. Both were made by Lars' Own and to make matters more confusing the two products had nearly identical packaging. While mothers with antsy children decided on how many pounds of potato sausage, the man from the phone rang me up on the 1920s cash register. When I pulled out my plastic, the man pulled out his impatient, bossy demeanor that he had acquainted me with earlier on the phone. He successfully added “annoyed” to his list of defining adjectives. He let me know it was "cash only" in a manner that suggested the workday was his puppy and I had just kicked it.

Meek and cashless, I left to find an ATM. This short errand turned into an odyssey as every ATM I found had extortionate fees that one-by-one I rejected. Eventually, I had walked far enough north on Clark St. to reach the Jewel/Osco, where I used my debit card to get some cash. Back at Erikson’s, still sadly devoid of the plump, blond, accommodating proprietress, I held my fresh $20 in clear sight as I returned my Belgian pearl sugar to the purchase counter. Showing no appreciation for the effort I made to return with hard money, the bossy, impatient, annoyed man asked me, with disgust, if I had the cash. I looked at the $20 that I was already holding in plain view and said yes. He sure hated me for buying things from his family’s business. By the time I left, he had added a noun to go with the adjectives in his defining features: jerk.

Belgium Month: Spéculoos Spread

George Washington Carver was a bit of a one trick pony. He was a genius, but imagine if his innovations had explored markets other than peanuts. Imagine if, after he invented peanut butter, he looked at other food items and reasoned that they too could be grinded into a paste and eaten on bread. Now imagine he did this with cookies.

Fortunately, George Washington Carver’s one shortcoming has been redeemed by Els Scheppers of Belgium. She concocted a recipe for a smooth spread made from spéculoos cookies (also known as biscoff), entered her recipe on a Belgian reality television show (“De Bedenkers,” or “The Inventors”) and won. Lotus, the major mass distributor of spéculoos, took notice and went into business with Scheppers. As elaborated upon in the New York Times article I used as reference, the paste has been quite successful, resulting in multiple, equally successful imitators.

Americans may be familiar with spéculoos/biscoff cookies as the cookies they sometimes get on airplanes. The flat, cinnamon cookies with crystallized sugar also have their diluted dollar store variety, Dutch windmills. To give full disclosure, I do not find the cookies themselves to be very special; I will continue to eat them when served by flight attendants, but it is highly unlikely I will purchase them for consumption while anchored to earth by gravity. What’s amazing is that the spread, which has a consistency not unlike Nutella and peanut butter, transcends its cookie counterpart. I actually find it difficult to stop eating the spread once I start, a problem I honestly don’t have with most other foods, including desserts. Pictured are two “dead soldiers” that fell victim to my obsessive compulsive spéculoos eating disorder (OCSED).

And, St. Nicholas be praised, the spread is available stateside! The American variety has a slightly less crystally and slightly oilier texture than what I purchased in the Belgium airport. (Actually, I purchased it twice. First at the airport grocery store, but security confiscated my solid food item for being a liquid. Second at the duty free shop, which I visited immediately after having the first jar taken away.) The European variety had a more robust flavor, which I would identify as being somewhere between molasses and that “baked cookie” taste. Both were good enough for me skip the gluten middle man and eat directly from the jar.

Belgian Waffles, Ch. 1: Brussels' Best Deal

Tourist guides for Brussels seem to agree on a few things:
(a) The correct way to eat a Belgian waffle is au naturel—the waffle, not the consumer. Only scoff-worthy tourists top it with chocolate, fruit and whipped cream.
(b) Proper Belgian waffles all taste more or less the same. Just make sure you avoid the rectangular ones.
(c) When it comes to waffle dealers, they are all equal.

Having tasted many waffles during my stay, I agree:
(a) While the toppings were delicious, they completely overpowered the flavor of the waffle. If you want to taste strawberries, go buy strawberries.
(b) They are indeed visually and orally identical, except the rectangular Americanized waffles, which are fluffy instead of chewy.

But I must disagree on the final point. There is a specific waffle dealer tourists should seek out: Waffle Planet by the Manneken Pis, the famous Brussels statue of a small boy urinating. Being that the statue is life-size (Read: small) it is not much to see, but it is worth lingering for the waffles. The waffles are only €1; half the price means you can double your waffle intake.

Belgium Month: Chocolate and Frittes

When I went to Brussels, I had a short checklist: Eat.

Belgium is famous for many delicious treats. I spent my days imbibing in chocolates, frittes and, my favorite, waffles. In between, I marveled at art nouveau and explored museums dedicated to Magritte, contemporary art and musical instruments. And then I went back to eating.

On the streets surrounding La Grand Place, there were literally chocolate shops next door to chocolate shops across the street from chocolate shops. Most of them shoved free samples in my eager face. Nearby was the Musee du Cacao et du Chocolat, which principally consisted of signs telling the history of chocolate from South America to Europe and information I already knew. (See Becoming a Chocolate Connoisseur, Steps 1 , 2 and 3 .) The new information I gathered from my visit consisted of the history of Belgium’s most famous chocolatiers: Godiva, Neuhaus, Côte d’Or, Callebaut and Leonidas. It was Neuhaus Chocolates that premiered the first ever bite-sized chocolates in 1912, “pralines.”

While this particular international trip isn’t one I feel everyone must take, here are my recommendations for chocoholics bound and determined to hit Brussels. It is important to distinguish the legit chocolate from the tourist junk. For starters, the stuff in boxes may be perfectly okay by American standards, but it’s not the good stuff. To taste what Belgium is famous for, cough up the good money for the fresh treats behind the glass. But, even with those items, it is important to recognize the difference between chocolate makers (roasters who affect how the chocolate will taste) and chocolatiers (those who outsource ready-made chocolate for the use in their own concoctions or simply molding the chocolate into shapes). As you walk from shop to shop, you’ll notice some identical products that were clearly outsourced and whose cocoa butter may be cut with vegetable oil. Thank them for their friendly samplings and do the truffle shuffle to the next place.

The frittes, while not dessert items, deserve at least a short paragraph. I learned frittes are called French fries because (1) the person who named them this consumed frittes in Belgium and (2) one of the major languages in Belgium is French. Thus, (3) the conclusion was made that frittes were a French invention. (Makes sense. I first ate gelato in Charleston, SC; I guess the Italians stole the idea.) What gives Belgian frittes their signature texture is that they are twice fried, which also happens to be the best way to cook plantains. After this, the frittes are topped with your choice of sauces with untranslated names.

As for the waffles—THE WAFFLES!—I will need several blog posts to fully record this religious experience.

Reasons to stay indoors

Some locals called it Snowmageddon. Others called it Snowpocalypse. I called the waist-high tunnels of frozen precipitation a reason to make hot chocolate.

Lucky for me, I had recently discovered some Perugina hot chocolate mix from my Italy trip in the back of my cupboard. For a boxed mix, this was thick, rich and fantastico. But for those of you that haven't been to Italy recently can stock up on grocery items to make your own hot chocolate. This recipe I got from a friend is exactly how I prefer it: like a thin fondue.

2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup cocoa powder
6 oz chocolate chips (semi-sweet)
1 tsp vanilla

Mix all of the ingredients together in a sauce pan over medium heat with a whisk until everything is melted together and hot. It's that simple.

Field Report: Albino Asparagus Ice Cream!

This Halloween's spooky tale is from my friend Logan about his trip to Germany. Enjoy!

When it comes to ice cream, there really isn't much to be afraid of unless, of course, we all scream for ice cream to cool the burning acid a mysterious killer dumped on us while we were trying to run away. But even in that case the ice cream is a cool, comforting, life saving substance. I have probably only been frightened by ice cream once, but is because of that that experience that Brad and Marisa have asked me to to supplement their regular blogly offerings with this frightening tale of cold, creamy horror.

It all began in Erlangen, Germany, in the early part of the decade when I was visiting a friend of the family with my German grandmother. That person was Dieter, an Engineer for Siemens corporation. So while I was waxing my mustache and buttoning my leiderhosen, Dieter suggested something that made my monocle pop out, “Would you like to go to the most popular Ice Cream Parlor in Erlangen?” Of course I would like to go to an ice cream parlor. Germany is dotted with many little Italian Ice cream places that are either run by Italians or Turks, but either way they are probably going to have some awesome lemon ice cream.

We arrived at Eishaus Erlangen in time to stand in line while Deiter explained that Eishaus is famous for it's constant rotation of interesting flavors. I learned that Eishaus is run by Germans, but they serve Italian-style ice cream. When we got inside I was terrified by but magnetically drawn to one flavor: Spargle. Spargle means asparagus, but it's not the green asparagus that we are familiar with, it's white asparagus. White, anemic, albino asparagus that has been covered in dirt to prevent any exposure to the sun. I shuddered at the thought. Apparently Germany has so many mad scientists that they are going into the ice cream business. I wanted to take refuge in one of the other, more traditional flavors, like Stracciatella or tempting flavors like Chocolate Struessel, but I knew this was my only chance, so I went for the glory.

The asparagus ice cream turned out to be not nearly as bad as I expected. Imagine cream of asparagus soup but sweet, and not quite as vegetab-ly. The flavor was actually very delicate, I even detected some floral notes. I felt a little like a judge on Iron Chef. So the moral of the story is: If you face your fears, you can gain twenty pounds while vacationing in Germany. Next time I'm going to try their Camembert flavor.

Ice Cream is not punk. (Part 2)

Once again, punks are opposed to having ice cream associated with their image. The Sex Pistols are threatening to sue a London ice cream maker for using the tagline "God Save the Cream."

While in London two weekends ago, I went to Selfridges, temporary home of the Icecreamists. I was drawn in by their contemporary design like a mall punk to hair dye and Chuck Taylor's. But it was all fashion, in the name of selling an old product at an inflated price. (Really, Johnny Rotten could just as easily open up another ridiculous lawsuit by claiming they stole his business model.) My choice: bypass the Icecreamists for the Oddono's in Selfridges food court.

(Thanks to my brother Brian for the link.)

Gelato italiano in Inghilterra (Italian ice cream in England)

If Fortnum & Mason is a great ice cream experience (see previous post), Oddono's is simply great ice cream. Making the finest gelato in London, it is normal to hear Italian being spoken here by the staff and customers, which is sure sign you are in the right place! The finest ingredients and care are used in their gelato and, like those found in Italy, nearly every flavor is uniform without mix-ins.

Their Valrhona Chocolate is the darkest, most explosive chocolate I've had in frozen dessert outside of Italy. (It actually was better than many of the chocolate gelati I had in Italy! ) you just don't get this chocolate flavor in American ice cream where they use more fat and less of the actual ingredients that give the flavors their names. Their Nocciola Piemonte (Hazelnut from Piedmont) was also incredible--easily the best hazelnut ANYTHING I've had in my life. I was also impressed by their Mandarin Sorbet. One of my friends I brought along remarked that Oddono's was truly the best ice cream she had ever had in her life. No small statement!

Oddono's Gelati Italiani is located in South Kensington, south of the Royal Albert Hall, the Natural History Museum and the V&A. You can also find their gelato being sold in Selfridges and Whiteleys.

London Licks

To get to the Parlour Restaurant at Fortnum & Mason, you must first make it through the ever-tempting ground floor. Big enough to contain a football field this floor only sells tea (Bleh!) and chocolate (Huzzah!). To observe the displays under glass, the carpeted floors and the quiet reverence of the customers, one would think they were selling jewelry. There's nothing wrong with a little appetizer dessert before the main course--I can tell you that each of the chocolates I tried were delicate, demanding an instant reaction to chew, salivate and swallow slowly--but don't lose your focus or spend all your money on the fancy chocolate. March on!

Somehow I made it up the stairs with my appetite intact and enough money to afford the decadent desserts that awaited me in the Parlour Restaurant. (It is expensive. Actually, expensive may not be a bold enough term, but it is an experience worth treating yourself to.) Fortnum & Mason had made it onto every "Best of London Ice Cream" list I found online, so I knew I was really in for a high-quality experience. They did not disappoint, dishing up in a fancy goblet with the utmost class. And despite the expense, I went there a total of three times.

The first time, I tried three scoops (Strawberry with 12-year-old Balsamic, Chocolate Macadamia Biscuit and Toffee) with warm, melted Amedei Chocolate on the side. All were very tasty, if not accurately named: I didn't taste any Balsamic or Macadamia Biscuit. The chocolate sauce confirmed Amedei as being the best chocolate money can buy. The Toffee ice cream may have been my favorite of all of their ice cream flavors.

On my second visit, I tried the Beekeeper Sundae (pictured, center): Stem Ginger & Honey, Vanilla Bean and Praline ice creams topped with Fortnum's honey and honeycomb chunks. Ginger is not in my top 10 ice cream flavors, but this was the finest one I've had: not too much spice, but not a diluted flavor.

The third visit--I won't say last, because I will return again--I tried the Rosa Plaustri sundae: R&P (chocolate ice cream with strawberry, marshmallow and biscuit), Frosted Strawberry & Shortbread and Amedei Chocolate ice cream topped with marshmallows and biscuits. Served with warm Amedei chocolate.

Do they sound like the best sundaes imaginable? Try 'em for yourself: Fortnum & Mason is located in Central London's Picadilly Circus, across from the Royal Academy.

Pistachio in My Moustachio

In Italy, I ate many pistachio desserts: an incredible pistachio cannoli in Milan, pistachio gelato in multiple cities and a tourist trap cookie in Venice. But the best (somehow surpassing the cannoli) was Cioccolato al Latte Bianco con Pistacchio, a white chocolate bar by the Tuscan chocolate maker Amedei.

I first heard about Amedei from Lauren, the owner of Seattle’s Chocolopolis, who told me that many chocolate aficionados consider Amedei to be the finest chocolate maker in the world. This reputation equates to expensive chocolate. (How expensive? Let’s just say two bars cost more than my train ticket from Florence to Cinque Terre.) While Amedei is a small company in Tuscany, their products can be found in fine chocolate stores in other parts of the world. Yes, the price will cause you to do the math and determine the cost of each individual square. But don’t be deterred! Buy it, then have a seat, eliminate distractions, unwrap the chocolate, inhale its scent, take a bite, let it sit on your tongue and experience the glory of fine chocolate. You will quickly learn that one of these chocolate bars can be (and should) amount to several servings due to its high impact flavor. Amedei is a must try for dark chocolate lovers.

Lucky for me, I had experienced the euphoria that is Amedei once before my trip to Italy. Because of this, I allowed myself to purchase one of their products that wasn’t their famed solid chocolate. Having never seen pistachio offered in any candy before, it was a quick and easy decision. So excited about the prospects of pistachios in chocolate, I completely overlooked the word “bianco” (“white”) on the package. In fact, you may have already dismissed this bar upon hearing the words “white chocolate,” a candy racism I, too, once subscribed to. (Some are not even convinced because white chocolate is only chocolate by name. By definition, it is cocoa butter extracted from the cocoa bean.) But listen, brothers and sisters! From first bite, I knew it was one of the best pieces of candy I had ever been witness to. The white chocolate used here provides the perfect creaminess to compliment the subtle pistachio flavor. The amount of sugar added to the white chocolate is just enough to equal the saltiness of the featured nut. And crafted with pistachio in mind, white chocolate is never the dominant flavor.

It’s not often a person can call a dessert life-changing or say that they have learned a valuable lesson by eating it. But Amedei’s Cioccolato al Latte Bianco con Pistacchio has done just that: This bar has helped me see the error in rejecting a chocolate based on its color. And to any naysayers pooh poohing my words, maybe it can do the same for you.

Next time: An expert explains chocolate!

Al supermercado italiano!

Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t a gelateria on every corner in Italy. And fine chocolates, unfortunately, do not rain from the sky. If you’ve had enough Nutella, or if you’re out late and browsing at il supermercado, or if you’re simply waiting for a train you’ll find Italy still has some exciting options in the standard candy offerings. From Italian chocolate makers Perugina to German import Ritter Sport, chocolate in Europe is different. For example, hazelnuts (“nocciole”) are very common, wafers are almost ever-present and dark chocolate (usually called “fondente,” but sometimes “neri”) is more bitter due to its higher cacao content. Another good reason to try the candy is that several are offered as gelato flavors: Nestle Baci, Perugina Nero, Kinder Bueno, Nestle Lion and Mars Bounty. Enjoy!

Must Try

• Perugina Baci (or Bacetti) – Dark chocolate exterior with a hazelnut pieces in the center. And it translates to “Kiss!” (Italian)
• Ferrero Duplo Cuore Fondente – Ferraro has some products commonly seen in the U.S. Their products all have the same formula: a truffle shape and a layer of wafer between the chocolate shell and core. This one is dark chocolate through and through. Molto bene! (Italian)
• Ritter Sport Fondente con Nocciole – The hazelnuts were dry, whole and crunchy like almonds usually are in American chocolate. The chocolate was dark, melty and glorious. (German)
• Kinder Bueno – Chocolate-covered wafer bubbles filled with hazelnut cream. The cream has a consistency like a less thick peanut butter. Eat it slow. (Italian)
• Perugina Nero – The chocolate is similar to Dove dark chocolate, soft and dark, only darker and softer. It’s like eating a sheet of brownies in one small square.
• Mars Delight – A familiar brand with an unfamiliar product. A little wafer, a lot of sweetened peanut butter, and a milk chocolate exterior. This is the only chocolate I saw with peanuts because it is a big no-no to mix salty and sweet in Italy.
• Majari Gianduja – This is a classic. I hope you have had it before your trip to Italy. Chocolate with a hazelnut flavor. (Italian)

The Rest

• Ferrero Tronky – Like other Ferraro products, except no chocolate covers the wafer shell that surrounds the tasty filling.
• Ferraro Fiesta Orange – A chocolate covered cake that tastes like zabaione. No clue why they chose the misleading word “orange,” but the Italians must love seeing the English language used on product packaging.
• Kinder Cereali – If you like Honey Smack cereal enough that you wish it was covered in milk chocolate, this is the bar for you. You’ll even get that cereal aftertaste!
• Loaker Napolitano – All of Loacker’s products are wafer-centric. I had a chocolate-covered variety, which was like a milkier, creamier Kit Kat with hazelnut cream. (Italian)
• Lindt Fondente Peperoncino – This Lindt product is not one you see in the U.S. Italians won’t mix salty and sweet, but putting paprika and peperoncino in chocolate they’ll do. It added spice, but did not enhance the flavor. (Swiss)
• Majari Fiat – Yes, Fiat. They make cars. They make chocolate…or at least allow their brand name to be used. Smooth layers of soft chocolate and hazelnut cream.
• Nestlé Galak – Why someone would spend good money on plain white chocolate baffles me…but this is coming from the guy who handed over 6 Euro for a fancy chocolate bar.
• Nestlé Lion – Wafers layered with marshmallow, covered in caramel, and then milk chocolate with rice puffs.
• Novi con Nocciole – Lower quality than Ritter Sport. The hazelnuts are not whole and have less of an effect on the taste and texture. (Italian)
• Ringo Gusto Cioccolato – Small sandwich cookies that look like they’ll taste like Oreos, but taste more like Keebler E.L Fudge.
• Mars Bounty and Malteasers – See my coverage of Canadian chocolate.

You may have noticed the brand name Mars on one of the Must Try candies. Yes, some brands that are regulars in America can be found in Italy. A typical Mars Bar tastes exactly the same—that waxy, sour American-manufactured-chocolate taste—but the Kit Kat I tasted had a milkier, creamier flavor.

Next time: Fancy Italian chocolate!