Cranachan

Rhubarb Cranachan

Cranachan is an old Scottish dessert designed to insulate against grey days and damp winds: hearty toasted oats are stirred together with cream cheese, whipped cream, honey, whiskey, and fresh raspberries (for the vitamins, presumably). Rhubarb cranachan is a modern reworking from Niki Segnit's inspiring Flavor Thesaurus (a kind of culinary choose-your-own-adventure book).

When the cranachan recipe is stripped down to its five main themes (sweetness, cream, acidity, booze, and crunch), even more variations start to suggest themselves. Later in the summer I plan to try a Georgian version, with ripe yellow peaches, Southern Comfort and toasted pecans.

Niki Segnit's Rhubarb Cranachan

Chop 6 stalks of rhubarb and toss with 3/4 c sugar; bake in a covered, buttered dish for 30 minutes at 350 degrees, then let cool. In a heavy skillet, toast 1/2 c oats until golden, then let cool. Whip 3/4 c cream into stiff peaks, then fold in the rhubarb, 2 T amaretto, 2 T honey, and three-quarters of the oats. Serve chilled in small glasses topped with the remainder of the oats and toasted, sliced almonds.

Verdens Beste Kake

Verdens Beste Kake

Scandinavian Specialties, $3.75

Too many hours of cooking shows have trained me to equate quality with complexity: flavors aren't flavors unless they're squired by at least a dozen partners, textures aren't worth their weight unless they're tussling against crunchy toppings, runny reductions, and chunky compotes.

This might be why a particular item at Scandinavian Specialities pulled me up short. Verdens Beste Kake translates to "World's Best Cake," but it wasn't the boast alone that got to me: it was the combination of superlative and simplicity. As the menu sums it up, Verdens Best Kake is no more or less than "Almond meringue with vanilla cream." Baked in large sheets, the crunchy almond-topped meringue becomes the "bread" for this simple sandwich, slathered with at least an inch of thick, cool, sweetened cream.

The cake first appeared in northern Norway in the 1930s, and was then known as Kvæfjordkaka, after the local fjord. From there, the recipe gained ground and popularity, earning first its impressive new name, and then, in 2002, recognition as the official cake of Norway.

Scandinavian Specialties

6719 15th Ave NW

Seattle WA

206/784-7020

Gjetost

Gjetost and Waffle

Scandinavian Specialties, $0.75

Known in its native Norway as brunost (literally, "brown cheese") and in the US as gjetost (just say,"Yay, toast!") this cheese-like substance has more than enough personality to merit two names. Goat milk, cream, and whey are boiled down until the dairy sugars caramelize, giving gjetost a rubbery consistency, golden color, and trademark flavor. Eating gjetost is one of those call-and-response experiences in which two tastes engage in debate inside your mouth; in this case the goat milk's pungent tang adds some edge to the toe-curling sweetness of the browned sugars, while the caramel, in turn, rounds out the goat's sharp funk.

At Scandinavian Specialities, small slices of gjetost are served on top of tiny waffles.

Scandinavian Specialties
6719 15th Ave NW
Seattle WA
206/784-7020

Coco Rico

Coco Rico

As a genre, "tropical" drinks tend to feature a half-dozen garish flavors skewered together by a tiny umbrella (real or implied). Not so Coco Rico, a single-note coconut soda so stripped down it's almost shy.

First produced in Puerto Rico in the 1930s, Coco Rico is clear but creamy, fizzy but soft, aromatic but without suntan lotion overtones. Singles are $0.89 at Rising Sun Produce in Seattle.

Sakuramochi

Sakuramochi
Tokara (above)
Umai-do (below)

Sakuramochi is named for the pale pink blossoms of the cherry tree, and like those blossoms is only around for a short time each spring.

In Japan, there are two regional variations on sakuramochi. Both types have a core of smooth koshian red bean paste and are wrapped in a brined cherry leaf, but the middle layer differs. In the Kanto region around Tokyo, the bean paste is rolled in a tiny pancake made from pink-tinted rice flour. In the Kansai region (which includes Kyoto), the bean paste is enveloped in a ball of mochi rice dough, often made from dōmyōji-ko a "chunky" glutinous rice flour that originated at Osaka's Dōmyōji Temple; the dōmyōji-ko gives the mochi the ruffled appearance of a cluster of breeze-tossed petals.

Our Seattle wagashi makers are hewing more closely to the Kansai style. Tokara (above) makes a classic sakuramochi, with meltingly smooth koshian encased in a chewy dōmyōji pillow and jacketed in a zingy, tender leaf. At Umai-do (below), there's a homier version, with the shop's own flavorful bean paste and smooth, elastic mochi made from more widely available mochiko glutinous rice flour rather than dōmyōji-ko: a new "Seattle" style?

Chè chuối

Chè chuối
Tan Tan, $2

Strip malls and pudding have one great quality in common: they both remind me not to judge solely on appearances. In a nondescript strip mall in Vancouver, WA you'll find Tan Tan, a family-run restaurant serving fresh Vietnamese food and desserts so palpably homemade you could imagine a mom whipping them up to welcome her kids back from a hard day at kindergarten.

Chilling in a glass case by the door, the desserts mostly fall into the "chè" category of soupy or pudding-like Vietnamese sweets. On any given day there might be cơm rượu (rice balls in sweet rice wine), bukopandan (a sweet tofu tinted green pandanus leaf), Vietnamese yogurt, chè bắp (sweet corn, sticky rice, and coconut milk), or chè đậu trắng (black eyed peas, sticky rice, and coconut milk). All the blobs, lumps, and cloudy liquids are prepacked into clear plastic cups.

Slightly greyish and pocked with dark splotches, chè chuối may not be much to look at, but like all great puddings it offers an experience all the more transcendent for being unexpected. Sweet-tart slices of fresh banana and succulent spheres of tapioca swim in thick, silky, sweetened coconut milk. Tan Tan even provides a garnish of crushed, roasted peanuts, thoughtfully packaged in a tiny ziploc bag so that they stay fresh and crisp until the moment comes to provide the perfect counterpoint to all that unctuous richness.

Tan Tan
Ste A3316 SE 123rd Ave
Vancouver, WA
360/892-3400

Pan d'Amore

Almond Croissant
Pan d'Amore, $2.75

Founded in 2003, Pan d'Amore is a bakery and tiny storefront in Port Townsend, on the Olympic Peninsula (with other branches in Sequim and Bainbridge Island). The huge range of crusty breads and delicate pastries are visibly rooted in a European tradition, while a "no throw away" policy (breads too stale to eat end up as fodder on area farms) is a more subtle indicator of the bakery's ties to the local community.

Whenever I can't make up my mind at a European-style bakery, I default to the almond croissant. The dozens I've eaten over the years have mostly blurred together, with only a few individuals distinguishing themselves from the pack; the unusually restrained dusting of powdered sugar on top of Pan d'Amore's almond croissant was my first clue that this would be one of those worth remembering. The buttery, crisp skin gave way to layers of chewier but equally rich connective tissue, and then to the seam of almond paste that really set this version apart: housemade from unblanched roasted almonds and that are coarsely ground with just enough sugar, it was a mouthwatering mashup of marzipan and almond butter.

Pan d'Amore
617 Tyler St.
Port Townsend, WA 98368
360-385-1199

Sesame Brown Rice Wafer

Sesame Brown Rice Wafer
Mic's, $3.39/box

Something about wafer cookies is so irredeemably childish to me. Is it because they were cheap enough to be a staple snack at my kindergarten? Or because they're as colorful as construction paper and a thousand times as sugary? The little slabs of pink, yellow, or orange cracker cemented together with frosting seem like something Dorothy might have snacked on after her world turned Technicolor.

If those rainbow wafers recall the past, Mic's sesame brown rice wafers just might represent the future: delicious, but dark, in all senses of the word. The textures are familiar--crisp, foamy planks and unctuous cream--but the goth coloring and mild, toasty sweetness are unexpected. Both come from the addition of ground black sesame seeds. As a nutrient-dense crop capable of surviving in inhospitable conditions, sesame has been cultivated for thousands of years, spreading from sub-Saharan African to countries around the world (today Myanmar, India, and Mexico are big producers). Many cultures have already developed a taste for sesame (try to imagine a McDonald's bun without its sprinkles) and it seems likely that as the world's climate grows more erratic, we'll be finding more uses for this flavorful "survivor" crop.

In Seattle, you can find Mic's wafers at Rising Produce in the ID. Want to get better acquainted with this flavor of the future? Check out black sesame cereal, keo me xung, goma dango, or kyung-dan.

Cafe du Monde

Beignets
Cafe du Monde, $2.10/3

Cafe du Monde's original location in New Orleans' French Market sells fresh beignets 24 hours a day. Whether you need something to balance out your morning oatmeal, or--more likely--could use a sobering bedtime snack, Cafe du Monde will supply you with as many deep-fried dough pillows as you require. During the day, the cafe is teeming and boisterous to an almost Disney-esque degree. In the small hours it has the unflattering starkness of an Edward Hopper painting, only with a few more people and a lot more powdered sugar.

Sno-ball II

Sno-balls
Left: Mother Nature's Cupboard, $3
Right: Tee-Eva's, $2

Absolutely the only fault I can find with visiting New Orleans in February is the lack of sno-balls. This Louisianan delicacy of finely shaved ice topped with flavored syrup and condensed milk is a summertime staple but in the off-season most sno-ball stands are shut up tight. Most.

After spending much of my 2011 visit on a frustrated hunt for this frozen treat, I decided to dedicate 2012 to tracking down easier prey. And as will happen, the path of least resistance delivered me to not one but two sno-ball shops.

The first was Tee Eva's Famous Old-Fashioned Pralines and Pies, in the Garden District.

Eva Louis Perry grew up in rural Louisiana and learned to cook by hanging around the kitchen watching her mother, aunts, and grandmothers. Family recipes became the basis of her business when Eva moved to LA and made her name as a caterer specializing in Southern food. After a decade on the West Coast, Eva returned to New Orleans in the late 1980s and became well known for pies and pralines, which she sold from a basket, walking down the street or through office buildings (even City Hall!); once some cops pulled her over, lights flashing, just to see if she had any pies left.

Even after opening her own shop in 1989, Eva continued to hit the streets with her basket, seeing herself as part of a "proud tradition" of women entrepreneurs of color, generations of whom walked around New Orleans with their pralines, pies, and calas. Eva even won a few parts in locally-filmed shows and films by setting up shop outside casting calls.

About ten years ago Eva retired; in a video from the Southern Foodways Alliance, she discusses the business and her legacy. She handed the business and the archive of family recipes over to her granddaughter, who still runs Tee-Eva's today. Specialties include pralines, mini pralines, sweet potato pie, pecan pie, sweet potato pecan pie, and cream cheese pecan pie; hand pies are $2 and larger pies made to order.

I wasn't aware of any of this backstory when I walked by. What drew me in was the eye-catching sign announcing "snowballs year-round!!". Perusing the list of flavors, I was attracted to "cake batter"; I asked the woman behind the counter what it tastes like.

"Like cake batter," she replied.

Sold.

She switched on her ice machine and shaved off a serving of fine, dry snow, then poured on the syrup. As she passed me the cup I was momentarily distressed by memories of "yellow snow" jokes, but then the reassuring perfume washed over me: vanilla, butter, and--power of suggestion?--something creamy and rich and deliciously dangerous, like raw egg yolks.

Tee-Eva's World Famous Pies and Pralines
5201 Magazine St
New Orleans, LA
504/899-8350

My second sno-ball came from the same stall where I finally tracked one down last year, Mother Nature's Cupboard in the French Market. In this video, proprietor Gene lets us in on all the secrets of a genuine New Orleans sno-ball, from layering the cup, to testing for quality, to what's really in "Tiger's Blood" syrup:



Mother Nature's Cupboard
1008 N Peters St
French Market Farmer's Market
New Orleans, LA

Antoine's

Meringue Glace

Bread Pudding

Antoine's, included with $20.12 lunch

Early in the 19th century, Chef Antoine Alciatore was already making a name for himself in his native France when he felt the pull of the New World and its seemingly limitless possibilities. New York was a crude disappointment so he struck out again for New Orleans; the booming cotton town proved a welcoming home for his extravagant tastes and French traditions. In 1840, the 27-year-old established Antoine's, which quickly became one of the city's best-reputed restaurants. In 1874, Antoine left the restaurant in the capable hands of his wife and children (including son Jules, inventor of Oysters Rockefeller) and returned to France in 1874 to die. His namesake restaurant went on to become the United States' oldest family run restaurant.

What with its white tablecloths and attentive service, Antoine's is not the kind of place I normally have the opportunity to visit, but a generous lunch special puts it within the realm of possibility: an appetizer, entree, and dessert for $20.12, along with martinis for $0.25 each. Dessert choices included a classic cheesecake with berry sauce, a nut-studded bread pudding smothered in caramel sauce, and "meringue glace", a crisp meringue nest topped with ice cream, toasted almonds, and fudge sauce.

In between tucking in your chair and setting fire to Baked Alaska, Antoine's servers are more that than happy to answer questions about the business or the maze-like building, the restaurant's home since 1868. At lunch, most diners eat in the "Large Annex", a dim cavern wallpapered in the autographed photos of Antoine's hundreds of illustrious visitors; it's perfectly acceptable to browse and gawk as long as you don't get in anyone's way.

Harrah's Casino Desserts

Creme Caramel (top)
Chocolate Cream Pie (bottom)
Harrah's Casino, $13 buffet

There's one sure bet at Harrah's Casino: if you ante up for the buffet, you won't want to eat again until spring.

From its clashing carpets to its flashing lights, the casino itself is meticulously designed to keep even the calmest eye from settling anywhere for long, giving every visitor decorator-induced ADHD. The buffet plays along, with more than a dozen stations offering everything you might hunger for, until your plate is piled so high you can't remember what's underneath and eating becomes an archaeological excavation of your basest impulses.

After grits, mashed potatoes, mac 'n' cheese, and well over a pound of steamed asparagus I wandered over to see how much trouble I could get into at the wraparound dessert counter: plenty. Not the best creme caramel or chocolate cream pie I've ever had, sure, but the best I've had from a buffet, and they did a great job of padding out the rough edges left by my previous courses.

Scadalini

Scadalini
Angelo Brocato's, $.40/ea

Continuing my tour of Sicily by way of New Orleans, I present the scadalina, or "dead man's bones" cookie.

Angelo Brocato opened his first gelateria in New Orleans' French Quarter in 1905, using techniques and recipes learned during his apprenticeship in Sicily. In the 1970s, the shop moved out to its current location on Carrollton Avenue--appropriately enough, an easy walk from streetcars running on the "Cemeteries" line.

Inside the cheerful parlor, chilled cases display a huge selection of Italian and Sicilian delicacies: pastries and candy, gelato and ices, composed desserts such as cassata and torroncino. I could easily have whiled away hours sampling my way from left to right if not for the glass jar filled with somber scadalini, lurking on the counter like a mouth-watering momento mori. I ordered a cup of pistachio gelato and passionfruit ice, and a "bone cookie".

Texturally, scadalini are more terracotta than pastry: that white cylinder is crisp and nearly hollow, the clove-infused cookie dense and chewy, underpinned by a glassy skin of caramelized sugar. I believe that these cookies are an example of pasta forte, a type of pastry dough developed in Sicily and better suited to the island's climate than are doughs reliant on eggs, butter, or yeast.

Pasta forte is made from just sugar, flour, and just a touch of water; typically, ground cloves are the only other flavoring that might be added. The stiff mass is kneaded well, then formed (with their religious significance, bone shapes are common)and left to air dry for a few days. Just before baking, the cookies are sprayed with water; the heat of the oven dries out the dough and causes the bottoms to glaze over.

Angelo Brocato's Italian Ice Cream Parlor
214 N Carrollton Ave
New Orleans, LA
504/486-1465

The Cake Cafe

Cupcake
The Cake Cafe, $1 with meal purchase

It was an offer I couldn't refuse. After I ordered my meal at the New Orleans Cake Cafe & Bakery, the woman behind the counter asked if I wanted a cupcake with that. For only a dollar more I could take my pick from a broad glass case filled with fat, frosted cakes.

The only catch? I was ordering breakfast. For a few seconds I held a silent debate.

The outcome? I can now say that cake goes just fine with grits.

Cake Cafe founder Steve Himelfarb first came to New Orleans to work as recording engineer, but eventually realized he was happier baking. He started out selling sliced of his homemade chocolate cake door-to-door, then to order, then from a small storefront in Exchange Alley. Just about a year after the bakery opened, Katrina hit. Himelfarb spent some time managing a restaurant in New York, but was back in New Orleans as soon as he had the chance, re-opening the bakery in a larger space in the Faubourg Marigny. The cafe is now the kind of neighborly place where people share tables when the free coffee refills and $1 cupcakes result in full-capacity crowds.

After making up my mind to have a cupcake, I was faced with an even more difficult choice: chocolate, red velvet, or wedding? I went with the "wedding" cupcake, a chubby puck of soft white cake crowned with a rich buttercream frosting saturated with swoon-inducing almond extract.

The New Orleans Cake Cafe & Bakery
2440 Chartres St
New Orleans, LA
504/943-0010

Velvet Artisinal Teacakes

Teacakes

Velvet, $1 each

Velvet dispenses serious coffee and frivolous baked goods from a diminutive corner shop in New Orleans' ritzy Audobon neighborhood. The coffees are carefully curated and include Stumptown, Ritual, and Verve, made using your pick of methods; there's an espresso bar with the usual range of options, and three "slow bar" choices: a Chemex, a syphon, and a pour-over system.

The tiny kitchen also bakes and cranks out light meals. Featured treats included homemade pop-tarts and "artisanal teacakes"--a.k.a. bite-sized cupcakes. The vast selection caused me to panic a little and pick a couple of cakes that seemed reassuringly familiar: a "Sour Puss" (lemon cake stuffed with homemade blackberry jam with blueberry on top) and a "Coconut" (chocolate cake with buttercream coconut top). Only later, when read the full menu on Velvet's website, did I have a little twinge of buyer's remorse--and hunger. I could have had:

Mast Brothers Syphon: syphoned hand sorted Stumptown coffee w/Mast Brothers bar cake stuffed center as well as Madagascar chocolate frosting

NOLA: yellow cake-praline stuffed-praline frosting

WHO DAT: saffron rice filled cake with Creole frosting

Blood Orange: orange cake with a slice of blood orange stuff inside with orange frosting

Blue Flower: Mem Imports Earl Grey tea cake, blue flower frosting

Velvet Espresso Bar and Artisanal Teacakes

5637 Magazine St

New Orleans, LA

504/450-2129