The last time I was here, I wrote about coffee inebriation and an arguably glorious chunk of sundried tomato on a fairly tasty bagel. That was, by all accounts, NOT a great way to unwittingly enter what would turn out to be a 2+ month hiatus from blogging. Those of you who have clicked on over here to check for any updates have, for 73 days, been greeted by a close-up of gooey pink cream cheese. I could’ve at least deigned to post a photo of a charming lavender and honey-glazed cupcake or still-steaming curry puffs, and spared you the feeling of vague queasiness that, come to find out, can be a side effect of looking too closely at wads of dried tomato bathing in cream cheese.

All I can say to that is: thank you to those of you who’ve kept checking the site, who haven’t unsubscribed from my RSS feed, who still follow me on Twitter, who haven’t found a way to otherwise disown me from your Internet. I’ve been flaky this past year, abandoning my various outlets for social media and networking, opting instead to focus on what was right there in front of me… and there was a lot. I’ve finished my first year at Brown, during which I took unbelievable classes and got to know insanely intelligent, interesting, exciting people. I even ate some yucky cafeteria food. Then I came home, and that was crazy, too. But I’m back in New Orleans, back in the scheme of things, finally with my bearings straight. Before I tell you all my stories about dining out and eating in, I’ll outline some of the other ventures that have been occupying my time and keeping me away from writing, from the Internet, and from you.

-I made it through my first Spring Weekend at Brown… and my first finals period.

-I missed home so much that I jetted back down for Jazz Fest, ate more food than a 19-year-old girl’s body should be able to contain, and saw music that reaffirmed my love for this city.

-I only needed to spend $30 to ship things home. As soon as I dropped my bags off, I had my first dinner back at Taqueria Corona. One fish taco, one carne asada taco… oh yeah.

-I had my second dinner back on fresh gazpacho following a trip to the dog park. This is summer!

It's probably safe to say that every beautiful photo on this blog, like this one, was taken by Caroline Panini Malouse.

-I didn’t get to see my New Orleanian best friend nearly enough before she went across the country again to be her sunshiney, saving-the-world-one-prospective-student-at-a-time self. Come back, Jennalina Cakester. We shall feast on fluffy luv patties, Camellia Grill, and that chicken from Lilette.

-I scared my (seafood-phobic) Long Islandian best friend by sending her pictures of me sucking the heads of crawfish. There is a number of things about this photo that might be jarring to someone else.

-I started working full-time at Sucré. Fellas, THIS is really where I’ve been all summer. I used to consume desserts. Now they consume me. I have dreams in which I’m frantically organizing chocolates on their gleaming silver trays, as such…

Not that I wasn’t before, but if there was any doubt, I am now intimately familiar with each of the chocolates and macaroons, entremets and fancy-schmancy beverages, that Sucré proffers. A couple of my coworkers think that I talk to the chocolates when nobody’s around, so tender is our relationship.

-In desperate search of barbecue following the discovery that The Joint is closed on Sundays, Panini, Andy and I stumbled upon Bywater BBQ. They make passable food, including a passable pulled pork sandwich, and will even serve it to you in their breathtaking courtyard if you’re willing to brave the mosquitoes. Someone had a little trouble typing up the menu, which is rife with comical typos, including this one:

“Portable mushrooms.” As in portobello, which I would be overjoyed to port with me everywhere.

-Channeling Alton Brown, I hunkered down in the kitchen with ladles, myriad measuring cups, and a notebook, and finally settled on what I consider to be the perfect lemonade recipe, with optional add-ins. Stay tuned.

This summer, Sucré unveiled a line of sundaes that are on par with the other stunning, decadent, inspiring desserts at the shop. I happen to love piling those glass sundae bowls with caramel sauce and bread pudding, mixed berries and brownie croutons, but the Neapolitan Profiterole (pictured above) is my favorite to make. Scoops of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry gelati are piped with fresh whipped cream and cocoa nibs, then finished with drizzled strawberry sauce and chocolate sauce, all between sliced choux pastry. For most, this is perfectly satisfying (to say the very least). However, there are a certain few others who want a little something extra…

One gentleman, insisting he needed to gain weight (God, I wish I had that problem), purchased two eclairs and plied us to use them in lieu of the normal pastry shell. That’s what you see here. It is…singular.

- I WENT BLUEBERRY PICKING. That needed to be in caps. It’s something I always, always wanted to do but never found the time. As it turns out, all it took to fix this was a morning spent poring over PickYourOwn.org and an hour and a half-long drive to Lumberton, Mississippi, where the folks at Pearl River Blues blueberry farm blew us away with their warmth, hospitality, passion, and know-how. Amy Phelps, who owns the farm with her husband, Alan, showed me around, answered all my questions about farming and living in the country and what the sky looks like at nighttime, and she even cut us a bunch of beautiful flowers to take home with us.

A gallon of blueberries costs only $9, and it honestly makes for the most incredible afternoon. Wear closed shoes, bug spray, and as little clothing as you can get away with. Nibble blueberries as you pick ‘em (just not the unripe ones – I got curious and learned that there’s a reason they don’t get picked!) and head over to Flint Creek afterward to cool off in the watering hole. It’s still blueberry season for another two solid weeks! Go forth and bring home your goodies so you can make pork chops in blueberry reduction, lemon-blueberry pie, blueberry muffins with walnuts, extra-special raspberry yogurt studded with berries and cocoa-roasted almonds, spinach salad with blueberries and goat cheese…

-That photo speaks for itself.

-I initiated an out-of-towner to the intense love and fervor in this city, complete with plenty of Hansen’s snowballs, a half-and-half Domilise’s po-boy while we’ve still got those plump oysters, anecdote-filled tours, and meandering walks through the French Quarter.

-A highlight of a trip to our lovely aquarium was the Gulf of Mexico exhibit, in which toothy sharks swim amongst giant Manta rays and metallic, kayak-sized fish. Thank you to our sponsors!

Not you, Shell. Certainly not ExxonMobil. Don’t think we haven’t forgotten about that Valdez scandal. The people of Alaska still aren’t the same.

-I served wine to partygoers at an art gallery. Also, I was not wearing pants. Just one of the shirts made by the artist. This was the first time I have been paid to walk around half-clothed.

-THE ROCHER GELATO AT SUCRÉ IS SO GOOD. In what I’m convinced was a stroke of genius, I put a half-scoop in a tiny espresso cup, to minimize waste and to maximize adorability. This is not on the menu.

-Sometimes, because I’m the baby on staff, I’m persuaded to wear pigtails.

Read on to learn about Sucré’s partnership with the LA/SPCA this holiday season, and snag a sweet discount so you can get in on this, too. Everybody wins!

Sugar & Spice showcases three distinct holiday flavors: candy cane, gingerbread, and eggnog. A pure white chocolate orb is speckled with red and filled with a peppermint-white chocolate ganache. A gold-glittery milk chocolate shell contains thick chocolate ganache that’s infused with gingerbread spices. And finally, there’s the eggnog truffle: a dark chocolate couverture holds an oozy white chocolate ganache spiked with the familiar wintry combination of nutmeg and bourbon.

The eggnog truffle is a complex blend of white and dark chocolates, nutmeg and bourbon, that instantly transports you into festive holiday cheer.

Also special to the holiday collection are these vanilla bean marshmallows. Sucré has developed a bit of a reputation for its cloudlike mallows, and the warmth lent by real vanilla bean distinguishes these from any shockingly-sweet alternatives.

One of my favorite cold-day activities is glugging Sucré’s Chocolait, an intensely thick hot chocolate with such rich cocoa flavor that it almost feels like a crime to indulge in it in New Orleans’ mild winters. This year’s peppermint stick hot chocolate mix will make for a cozy cup on its own, or you can top a mug off with a few vanilla bean marshmallows. Either way, know that this is best enjoyed when the drinker is wearing warm wool socks – I don’t know about you, but for me, peppermint hot chocolate just begs for snuggling. The only other thing you’ll need are chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

Finally, there are these pretty chocolate bars, which come in a bundle of six flavors: coconut & toasted almond; pistachio & rose petal; salted pretzel; pure 65% Maracaibo dark chocolate; candied violet; and swirled caramel & salted peanut. This is the perfect gift for any gourmet sweet tooth in your life – I can think of nothing I’d rather find in my stocking on Christmas morning than these charmingly deluxe versions of my favorite childhood snack.

To top all this off, Sucré is giving a portion of every dollar earned from the Sugar & Spice collection to the LA/SPCA, an animal shelter whose mission is to prevent animal cruelty and to find loving homes for the strays it takes in.

Finally, because you read about it here, you can get a discount on any online order you make this holiday season. Get all your  shopping done at Sucré and at checkout, just type in offer code SPCA to get $5 off shipping for all orders. Happy holidays everyone!

For those of you who don’t know, I’ve been fortunate enough to intern in the confection studio at Sucré, New Orleans’ best dessert boutique. I make frequent stops at the storefront to stock up on their art-like chocolates and staggeringly beautiful entremets, and working in the kitchen lets me see the assembly, which is almost as fun (if tantalizing!). This is something we made in the kitchen this week: lemon-raspberry cake. Luscious raspberry mousse sandwiched between light, sweet, and moist cake, topped with buttercream, garnished with lemon zest, edible fairy dust, a white chocolate swoop, and one perfect raspberry. I am especially fond of the battalion you can see in the background.

scones: blueberry, poppy seed, apple

These scones defy every predisposition I had about scones. Tender, soft, and endearingly palm-sized, heat radiated from their deepest viscera, making for one very hospitable bite. Coupled with the assorted accompanying spreads (dreamy strawberry jelly, creamy lemon curd, and butter), they were elevated from indulgent to wicked. This is a snack of snacks.
Keep scrolling. It’ll only get better.

I forgot to take notes on these since I was far too stuffed to try them. (This is, after all, appearing in conjunction with everything else I tasted at the Sucré tasting.) This gives you a free pass to do nothing but ogle.

butter croissants

Something about the shape of these particular croissants reminds me of grumpy beach-scampering crabs. Or toddlers defiantly holding their arms to their chest. Not that that has ANYTHING remotely to do with the taste (spectacular) or flaky layered texture (otherworldly). I’m just saying.

pain au chocolat + another

I was too busy adoring the chocolate croissants you see here for me to uphold my journalistic integrity (blah, blah) and ceremoniously sample the other pastry on this plate (they’re the two without chocolate seeping out the end). A subtle lacing of hazelnut in the chocolate croissant is what distracted me. Think pain au chocolat marries Nutella. A star-crossed pairing, like a new and improved Romeo and Juliet. What!?

And then there are these little bruisers. A soft frangipane filled the flaky crust, its almondy grit suspended in an utterly smooth paste. I’m not sure what the shape is supposed to be, but to me, they look like crowns. It was really fun to bite off each little point.

Snacking, of course, is one of the things that we might be first inclined to adapt. This would explain my insatiable hankering for gazpacho and Concoction, my near repulsion at the idea of anything hot/molten/rich (actually, that’s a lie; when am I ever repulsed by anything with any of those descriptors?), and my yearning for the fresh produce that’s so pretty and crisp and simple right now. Cold, sweet things are also a must: popsicles, snowballs, Icees, and the like. That said, I’m not quite sure there’s anything like a good cup of gelato to soothe my muggy woes. Below, a photo diary:

My all-time favorite: La Divina's chocolate azteca. The rich cacao flavor cools and delights your palate while flecks of cinnamon and pepper heat your throat. Note the perilous drippiness of the gelato as it melts.

Sucré's toasted almond gelato + chocolate peanut-buttery swirled gelato. Sucré's flavors are decidedly sweeter and definitely less risky or exotic than some of La Divina's selections, and for a while, I preferred La Divina's head and shoulders above it. But Sucré had an Easter special that featured giant hollow chocolate eggs filled with a treat -- most likely a coupon for free gelato, but, if you were lucky, a day in the kitchen with Tariq Hanna -- and in my frenzy to test my luck, I ended up with seven (7) gelato coupons. This resulted in my spending MUCH more time at Sucré and coming to love some of their offerings. The two gelaterias, which share a Magazine Street block, are completely different -- I have never craved both simultaneously -- but completely good, and with staying power.

Further complicating things is the fact that Sucré now makes its own gelato base in house (it used to get a top-notch base made and shipped from, I think, Atlanta). This is a scoop of the most tender, creamy vanilla gelato that I was given at Sucré's media tasting. The new base is worlds different from its predecsessor: richer, fuller, a better vehicle for any given flavor. This makes Sucré a definite yes in my book not just for entremets and chocolates, but also for a good cup of ice cream in these hot summer months before I go packing to New England and its vastly different frigidity.

It’s no mistake that I’ve been putting off my entry on the chocolates for the end of this series. People always say, save the best for last – and while I personally believe that we’d all be better off (emotionally if not nutrionally) if we ate dessert before dinner, this was one instance where I thought it was fitting to save the most intricate, colorful installment for the end. As some of you know, I visit Sucré obsessively; I even wrote my college essay on the utmost significance of the box of chocolates I buy there every month. These chocolates are so exquisitely crafted that I doubt it’ll be that hard for you to understand the importance of these little bonbons, even if you’ve never been lucky enough to taste them.

These guys don’t make it into regular rotation for my routine box, but it’s not for a lack of quality. Within that glossy dome of a shell is a thick center of dark chocolate ganache infused with absinthe, lending a licorice flavor to the chocolate that seems off to me. As I said, it’s not the fault of the chocolate; it’s simply that I am now and always will be a bit wary of licorice. That’s just the way it is. Of course, as an intrepid taster, I felt it was my duty to take a nibble of everything, and I was glad I at least got the opportunity to taste this one; it’s a rich, smooth flavor, and the absinthe provides a nice, unexpected twist. Plus the green color that glows radiantly from the inside of the shell is appealing in a science-fiction kind of way.

I have to admit, the first time I tried this chocolate, I wasn’t expecting the thyme flavor, so after I swallowed my first bite, I blurted: “Oh my god, it tastes like a meatball!” The thyme flavor is secondary to the dark chocolate flavor, but it’s definitely a key flavor, and it’s unmistakable. That said, this is one of Sucré’s bestsellers – and, after eating it with the full awareness of all its ingredients, I understand why. Chocolate/thyme is an innovative combination that’s refreshingly savory and herbaceous in contrast with the rich, desserty dark chocolates and milk chocolate confections that are also on offer.

I am being completely serious when I tell you that this chocolate could be the most vile thing I’d ever ingested, and it would still have a chance at appearing in every single one of my monthly boxes. It just makes me so happy to look at. Luckily, it tastes as good as it looks. Coming from someone who meticulously avoids all other white chocolates, that is particularly good. This tiny piece of chocolate is the perfect encapsulation of classic wedding cake flavors; that multi-tiered couverture contains a thick white chocolate ganache with the distinct flavor of toasted almond. The balance of white chocolate and almond is perfectly harmonious, and the almond lends a pleasing depth of flavor, coaxing a buttery warmth from the white chocolate that’s usually lost in its fattiness and cloying sweetness. Then there’s the height of the chocolate, which means your teeth sink through the ganache for an eternity before hitting the hard bottom of the shell, which is nearly gritty in the best of ways.

For some reason, it took me a little while to get used to this one, though now I truly adore it and can’t get a box without at least one of these. I appreciate the sheer appearance of this one in a way similar to my appreciation of the Wedding Cake; the fleur de lis is a symbol of New Orleans, and the gold dusting makes it that much more luxe. Inside the dark chocolate outside is a white chocolate ganache that’s made special with a brown butter infusion (hence the name Meunière, a classic New Orleans sauce of brown butter that’s served at fixtures like Galatoire’s or Antonie’s, perhaps most notably in trout meunière amandine). What is there to say besides yum? This is so distinctly New Orleans.

And finally, there’s the Avery…

This is my favorite and also the favorite of many of Sucré’s regular patrons; one shopgirl told me that some come into the store and ask for a box of only Avery. When I was in the kitchen, I happened to see a deconstructed Avery, and I bore witness to the chocolate in the making. Here’s the metamorphosis of the Avery, captured in pictures:

A milk chocolate and caramel ganache, still hot from the stovetop, is folded and smoothed in a giant metal bowl.

Here’s a vat of the ganache. I love the way the spatula interrupts the smooth surface — just look at the indentation it makes to see how thick this stuff is.

Perfectly and glamorously swirled dollops of the milk chocolate caramel ganache are dropped onto coins of dark chocolate as they await enrobement.

The photography isn’t awesome because the photo was taken through a layer of Plexiglas, and my subjects were moving on a conveyor belt, rendering the macro feature virtually useless, but at least you can see the glossiness of the fresh, still wet dark chocolate that has been cascaded onto the little ganachey swirls. Because the focus is off, you can’t see it, but the swirl that you could see so clearly in the raw ganache is still pronounced. Now they’re off for the final step of the process.

Here it is, fresh from the conveyor belt, after a smattering of salt from the Avery salt mines here in Louisiana. This final step, in my opinion, is what sets the Avery head and shoulders above even the best of the other Sucré chocolates; it’s at once a shout-out to the classic combination of fleur de sel + caramel and a sweet bite that’s delightfully different from the other gelées and ganaches. Once this baby cools, it’ll be whisked to the cool marble counters of the Sucré storefront for your hedonistic pleasure.

This post marks part two of my dissertation on the tasting Sucré hosted at its mid-city kitchen last Friday. Click here for Part I: The Entremets.

Sucré’s macaroons have received their due share of fame, what with attention from Paula Deen, Oprah, and Su-Jit Lin alike. It’s difficult to pay adequate tribute to what it means to actually eat one, though. Words can only go so far to describe their brilliance and manifold flavor. But I’ll try.

Otherworldly ooze... or just pistachio macaroon cookies before being popped in the oven.

These little cookies are the quintessence of what the Parisians must have been going for with the macaron. It’s something of a textural odyssey, all packed into a space smaller than a ring box. Allow me to walk you through it.

The first challenge is choosing exactly which macaroon to eat. With a selection of chocolate, hazelnut, almond, pistachio, orange, lemon, strawberry, and pecan, it can be kind of difficult to choose. They’re the Fabergé eggs of the cookie world, colored as though they’d been crafted by a painter rather than a pastry chef, dotted with Sucré’s trademark glitter or garnished with itty-bitty nibs of cacao or toasted nuts. The hues are potent in a way that invites you to touch and taste.

The concept itself is nothing new to us: if we’re just talking about soft cream sandwiched between crispy cookies, we might as well grab a box of Oreos. What makes these special is the knowledge as you eat them that they were masterfully made. The cookies themselves are not simply crispy but rather a multitude of different consistencies in rapid succession; in fact, the crispiness is but a fleeting presence as you bite into the cookie, whose outer layer (it’s puffed-out and hollow) then shatters into ethereal shards, falling in on itself to reveal the substance behind the flawless and charming exterior.

Once your teeth have made that preliminary break through the diaphanous veil of crunch, you encounter the dense, dark, luscious inside, an artfully executed mess of the cookie’s remains, which lose their integrity to the mousseline. You are left with a chewy-gooey-sticky (in that order) implosion, a lot like cake or brownie batter. So you see, it’s a complex microcosm of taste and texture. You COULD try this at home, but I’m not sure how easily anyone could emulate it. Tariq Hanna shrugged off my likening of him to Willy Wonka, but the parallel of the chef to the famed whimsical chocolatier is unmistakable… at least when you’re eating his macaroons.

Hazelnut macaroon: delicate cookie melds with rich hazelnut mousseline

]]> http://passionfruitbutter.com/2009/05/21/starting-the-day-with-sucre-part-ii-the-macaroons/feed/ 1 Rémy IMG_1334 IMG_1366 IMG_1335 IMG_1390 http://passionfruitbutter.com/2009/05/15/starting-the-day-with-sucre-part-i-the-entremets/ http://passionfruitbutter.com/2009/05/15/starting-the-day-with-sucre-part-i-the-entremets/#comments Sat, 16 May 2009 00:51:24 +0000 Rémy Robert http://passionfruitbutter.com/?p=348 ]]>

Joel Dondis, owner of La Petite Grocery and [charming/beautiful/museum-like/delectable/innovative/colorful/pop-fizzy wonderful/all of the above] “sweet boutique” Sucré was kind enough to invite me to this morning’s media event at Sucré’s kitchen in Mid-City. The scene? People older than me (also known as professionals), most of whom I happily met-in-person for the very first time (hi, René, Peter, and Robert!). Sweets were abundant, leaving even me feeling at a loss, which is why I’ve split this into multiple parts.

For those of you who don’t know, an entremet is literally a “between meal”: a small dish that you eat between courses. In this case, that is exactly what it was; I ate it between my bowl of cereal this morning and my later courses of chocolates, gourmet breakfast pastries, velveteen gelato, and cupcakes. In most other cases, it is simply an impossibly beautiful and meticulously crafted dessert item.

First up: the Fraise.

Think of this as Strawberry Shortcake 2.0. The cake is jaconde, fluffy but rich with a warmth of flavor thanks to the almond flour (also known as, do not mistake the presence of egg whites as an indicator of angel food cake; this is so much more than that). There’s a generous pat of strawberry gelée hidden at the core. The layer above the jaconde is actually vanilla mousse, though you wouldn’t be able to tell since this is so beautifully self-contained and smooth (compare to the mousses I’m prone to make, which are fluffy and spill everywhere like a drunk courtesan). Despite the silken appearance, it’s still got a very delicate (very mousse-y) texture, with the unmistakably full flavor of pure vanilla that compensates for the mediocrity of fake vanilla everywhere. Topping it all off is just a sheen of strawberry gelée. Now, I think many cooked-down forms of pure original fruit lose a lot of that natural essence, but this gelée was not in the least bit compromised by the cooking process; it retained every ounce of its intense strawberry flavor.

Hello, Caffé Caramel. You are tall, dark, and handsome, with maybe a proclivity for Russian literature. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

This fellow is one I have seen countless times, basking behind the thin glass of Sucré’s dessert counter, but I have always had a bit of trouble straying from my favorite, the Tiffany (I’m saving her for last on this post). At restaurants, I actively fight the temptation to order beloved dishes and try to push myself out of my comfort zone to order new things whenever possible, but dessert is such a more intimate and indulgent habit that I have absolutely no qualms ordering my favorite entremet. I was, however, excessively excited to get a nibble (or thirteen) of this today.

The crumbly thin layer on the bottom is technically a cake, though it’s incredibly dense, enough to make cutting with the side of a plastic fork just a bit awkward (but possible nonetheless). It lends just the right amount of structure and variety of texture to the dish as a whole. The dollop you see in the middle is a caramel cremeaux, and it’s surrounded by milk chocolate coffee mousse. The two are similar enough in flavor and consistency that you feel them in your mouth as one multifaceted entity, as opposed to that caramel stuff or this chocolate stuff. I have a kind of love affair with caramel, since the presence of salt in any good version amounts to the perfect salty/sweet ratio for me. Therefore, the caramel (in the cream on the inside and in the glaze on top) was a really nice treat for me, and the big picture of chocolate/caramel/coffee is classic for a reason. Rich, warm, buttery, sweet-brown-sugary. I believe those are cacao nibs sprinkled on the top. Good call.

Hello, Tiffany. You are a short round woman who collects formal hats and enjoys going to the opera. You are decadence incarnate. Reader: are you one of Those who snub their nose at the trite combination of chocolate and raspberry? Take a single bite of this, and that you will be no longer. Tiffany is a disciple.

This, like the Caffé Caramel, has a tremendously thin layer of cake at its foundation, though this cake is much more cakey in the traditional sense, lending itself to the soft richness of the dish itself. The light pink layer at the bottom middle is raspberry mousse; directly above it is raspberry gelée. I LOVE these two elements, especially that they’re right on top of each other. Whatever technique was used to harness the strawberry flavor in the gelée on the Fraise is used here in both the mousse and the gelée, so you have a very prominent RASPBERRY flavor that weaves the two parts together in your mouth, unifying them to the extent that there’s not an overload and most definitely no dissonance. However, the textures are wildly different, the mousse velvety-whipped and the gelée dense and fruity, so there’s just the right level of intrigue. I love the color palette here, too, and the fact that they look encased in the mousse as though they’re on display at an art gallery or the Smithsonian. It’s like all the chocolate that blankets it wants you to see this superior raspberry goodness at its heart. There’s a similar dynamic with the flavors, so that the rich chocolate mousse acts quite well on its own but acts better when it’s working with the raspberry. It’s a study of dark/light, dark heavy cocoa/delightful rejoicing fruit; the chocolate and raspberry, like the mousse and gelée, are perfect complements. Overall, this is really just a treat to eat, though the best part is making that first stab through the satiny dark-chocolate glaze (which, I might add, has been fancified with a dusting of super-fine edible glitter. Oooh, GLITTER!).

More coming: chocolate bonbons, legendary macaroons, fresh-out-of-the-oven viennoiserie… Ah, yes, I’ve just touched the surface.