Being (almost) normal in NYC

We always try to do something special for our anniversary, and this year it felt particularly important to celebrate. So we headed to New York City for eating, shopping, eating, museum-ing, eating, and walking. And eating.

The big caveat was that I was supposed to avoid crowds, sniffly kids, and any risk of exposure to colds, germs, and general infection. I've been fantastically lucky so far in terms of staying healthy throughout treatment, but a nasty flu would be tough on my immune system. So we were more observant about our surroundings that usual, but otherwise took no strict precautions.

We always visit MoMA. This time, there was a good exhibit on the design of the modern kitchen and the movement to more efficient use of space. Among the articles on display was something I recognized from my childhood:



I have a strong memory of drinking ice-cold milk out of these Tupperware beakers.

There was also an installation by George Maciunas, displaying the packaging from all his food consumption during one year in the '70s. His diet seemed to consist of imitation rum, powdered egg nog, and some 200 cans of lemonade.



Yep, that's healthy.

(Having said that, I was quite taken with this poster and was happy to find the related postcard in the gift store:)



Healthy and Good with Butter!

And then, of course, it was time to eat in the MoMA Cafe. The Boy had a salad with arugula, paper-thin bresaola and Humboldt Fog cheese (which, due to my no-blue-cheese restriction, I could only stare at, wistfully).



Mindful of my nutritionist's advice to pile on the protein, I went for a trio of bruschetta: tuna with olives; lemon hummus with prosciutto; white-bean puree with roasted root veggies.



Dinner that evening was at Union Square Cafe, which was fabulous. Sadly, it was too dark for good photos, so you'll just have to take my word for it that The Boy's pork chop was nine inches thick, and that my grilled lamb chops came with a creamy, garlicky gratin dauphinioise, and probably took care of my protein quota for the day.

On Saturday, we'd initially planned to walk the High Line, but then I saw that the Concorde was on display at the Intrepid Museum. I'd always wanted to fly in it, and this was the closest I was now likely to get. So we headed to the waterfront, and ended up seeing not only inside the pointy bird but also exploring a submarine and the aircraft carrier itself.













After lunch at Vynl, where the service was so-so, the food was diner but good and the bathrooms — four separate spaces dedicated to Cher, Dolly Parton, Elvis and Nelly (?) — were fabulous, we took a cab to the halfway point of the High Line and started walking.

It was so cool to get a different view of the city.





There's a nice gallery of old photos showing the High Line in operation.

Our next stop was a couple of chocolate stores in SoHo: Kee's Chocolates and Vosges. Apparently I was too overcome to take photos in either place.

At Kee's we tried four flavors of handmade chocs: smoked salt, fennel, blood orange, and lemon-basil. They were all amazing, though the latter was a definite winner.

At Vosges we picked up some items we hadn't seen locally, and I was also forced (forced!) to get a chili-cinnamon hot chocolate. Oh boy: a warm, spicy embrace. Completely delicious. Apparently I need to pick up their Aztec Elixir blend to keep me going at home.

Dinner that night was at Resto, a Belgian-isch place whose motto is "Bringing fat back." This speaks to me.

Actually, what spoke to me most was that one of the first items on their menu is bitterballen, which we fell in love with on Aruba and actively sought out while stuck at Schiphol airport at Christmas. They're usually deep-fried balls of meat in a roux sauce, but at Resto they're a little drier, which doesn't detract at all and makes them easier to eat.



Then we went for the charcuterie plate:



Again, it was a little too dark for good photos, but this gives a sense of the selection:



Each meat had a side — the lamb with tzatziki, the chorizo (unexpectedly) with honeyed ricotta — and each was full of fresh flavor. We also ordered the tête de cochon sandwich, which was good but not fantastic; the thick brioche and the slaw overwhelmed the meat, which to me is the whole point of eating a pig's head.



Full to bustin' as we were, it was somehow necessary to get the beignets. They were more like donut holes than the rectangular, powdered-sugar-coated treats we expected, but they were warm and accompanied by three dipping sauces: berry compote, melted chocolate, and caramel. So that was nice.



Apologies again that the photos do not do justice to this meal!

All in all, it was a lovely break; so good to get away from all the hospitally stuff, and stress, and overload, and just act like normal people.

Vosges bacon chocolate: the verdict. Finally.

Yes, after months (months!) of searching, I found it. The WholeFoodses in Cambridge and Austin may have come up short, but in New York you can find anything, including Vosges new flavor, Mo's Bacon Bar.

(If you don't know why this find was so thrilling, this post about chocolate from June should help.)

I had considered doing the taste test as a videocast, but as soon as I realized I was spending way too much time deciding what to wear (for my big break!), I figured it would be best just to write the play by play.

I took the chocolate out of the fridge and let it come up to room temperature. And then we began.

Vosges' bars are hermetically sealed, so there's no way to get a sense of the aroma until you split open the foil wrapper.

Here we go.

Inhale. Smoky; a subtle saltiness.

I'd been hoping for cartoon-like rashers poking out through the chocolate. I guess that would have been asking for too much.

First bite.

Oh.

Wow.

Oh wow yes.

It starts out creamy, buttery, velvet smooth, with a definite smokiness. And then a unmistakable baconiness--hints of fat, nut, spice (juniper?) and a slight crunch (that's the smoked salt).

The finish is salty, but not overwhelimg. Kind of like the peanut butter-chocolate combo, but better. Salt and bacon crunch between the teeth.

When you let it melt in your mouth, you're left with tiny nuggets of bacon, which then dissolve like a whisper. Careful sucking and tonguework removes the chocolate to reveal, on close inspection, perfect little lardons.

Milk chocolate (41% cacao) was a good choice for this; dark would have overwhelmed the bacon's smokiness, I think. It's not overly sweet and provides a balanced counterpoint to the more savory tastes.

The Boy reckons this is the best of Vosges' flavors; the others are great, but this is the most carefully considered and well executed yet. And he also says I should make sure to mention that it frickin' ROCKS.

Breakin' bacon news

This morning, during our weekly grocery run, I checked in with the people at WholeFoods' cheese department to see whether they were likely to get the Vosges chocolate bar with bacon any time soon.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," said the assistant cheesemonger. "Let me go check."

He came back with another guy, obviously the Big Cheese (oh, like you didn't see that coming), who explained that any new inventory additions needed to be approved at a regional level before making it to individual branches.

But there was an added wrinkle. An extra-thick rind, if you will.

"If it turns out the bacon has nitrates, we won't order any," he said. "That's what happened to the wasabi bar; turned out it had Yellow No. 5, so we stopped carrying it."

So WholeFood's selections of chocolate, wine, butter, beef, heavy cream, pork-liver terrine and brie are all healthy dietary choices, but a little nitrate is going to kill ya? Yeah, I know, I know ...

As we're heading to Austin in a week, home of WholeFoods' flagship store (80,000 square feet of organics, including walk-in beer cooler! Chocolate fountain! Live music!), I can check to see whether they care about nitrates. They probably do, the spoilsports.

And of course, worst-case scenario is just ordering some from the Vosges website, nitrates and all ...

Infidelity, foodwise

They say you never forget your first love. That was you, Cadbury's Dairy Milk; sweet and creamy and rich, with a solid bite and a satisfying mouthfeel, you scored a direct hit on all pleasure points in mouth and brain. I was devoted to you through childhood.

When I came to the US, I was pleased to find you here. But one taste told me it wasn't really you. Something just seemed ... wrong. Off, as My People would say. It was like spotting Billy Idol across a crowded room and realizing he's just an unconvincing Billy Idol lookalike.

Later, I discovered there are differences in US and UK chocolate production guidelines; the British government mandates twice the percentage of cocoa solids required by the FDA (which, by the way, is currently considering allowing manufacturers to replace cocoa butter in chocolate with vegetable fat).

The thrill was gone, but at least I knew why.

For a long time, I didn't think about chocolate as much. Found other things to keep my mouth occupied. Started exploring salty treats. Learned to love olives, boquerones, edamame (none of which, of course, sat in grocery stores in Billingham in the 1980s).

And then, in Montreal, I fell in love all over again, in a little gourmet store on Rue St-Denis. I found Belgian company Dolfin's milk chocolate with Indian masala.

The first taste: excellent chocolate. Then spices: cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, cloves. Then, at the end, as the last drops of cocoa butter dissolved on the tongue, a gentle whisper of fiery warmth.

Back home, I raided the Dolfin shelf at Cardullo's in Harvard Square. Dark chocolate with Earl Grey tea. With pink peppercorns. With green anis. And I was happy.

And then my head was turned yet again, this time by Vosges.

(I'm sorry, Dolfin. You were intriguing and creative, and you introduced me to new ideas. But Vosges was just so much more adventurous, more daring. And I was ready to take the next step.)

Where Dolfin was all about "l'art du mélange," the careful, artisanal blending of chocolate with subtle, gently compatible ingredients, Vosges flavor combinations seem to throw caution to the wind: Hey, what happens if we make a bar with ginger and wasabi? How about mixing Kalamata olives into white chocolate?

Oh.

Oh oh oh oh oh.

There's a new flavor.

I'm afraid to type it out in case it's not real.

Just ... just look at this.

So do you understand, Cadbury's, Dolfin, why I had to move on?

But now I have to admit that I've been smitten again. I swear it wasn't my fault. I was in WholeFoods, buying sorbet (healthy! Fruitful! Organic!), when I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the most wonderful thing ever.

Vosges does ice cream.

I didn't buy any that day, but the thought of it kept coming back. So yesterday I picked up a couple of pints on my lunch hour, grabbed a fistful of plastic spoons, and took them back to the office. That way, I figured, I could share them with my colleagues. It could hardly be considered cheating.

One taste was all it took. The Red Fire (ancho and chipotle chilies with cinnamon in chocolate ice cream) reminded me of my first experience with Dolfin's Hot Masala: rich and chocolately with a warm, spicy finish--but with the additional kick of being chilled at the same time.

The Naga, though, made my head swim. Coconut and curry in a creamy custard, like a decadent, dessert version of yellow Thai curry sauce. Once I'd finished swooning, my first thought was Okay, what can I do with this? It begs to be paired with something; maybe mango, or caramelized banana. Or even roast chicken. Seriously.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.