an equal opportunity eater.
Taking the neurosis out of food, one meal at a time.
Friday, May 1, 2009
A canele is a wonderful thing: crisp caramelized sugar exterior, light interior. A delightful contrast of textures and sweet flavors. And that was exactly what my first experience was like here.
The next time, giddy with anticipation of the experience and the gratitude of my intended recipient, I splurged and bought a couple. Instead of that crisp contrast, we both bit into mush. A disappointment.
On occasion I would drop by but the symbols of perfection were not quite ready; or were not being baked that day; or were sold out. I think artistic temperament best explains their baking schedule.
To the meat of the discussion, starving reader. Last week I returned, once again, in hope of snagging that perfect morning treat. There they were, an assortment of deep brown caneles, hinting at baking perfection. At last. But first a quick question:
I said to the server, "You know, last time I bought those they were actually soggy, and I was wondering---"
The server interrupted me by saying, "That's because those were yesterday's." She swept up the plate, emptied its contents into the dust bin, and I watched, agog. "You shouldn't be selling those," she said to the server next to her.
What other day-old items were on display? What would I now risk? I turned around and headed to Polkatots.