Cailler chocolate: the almond sample

This was the best shot from my trip to the Cailler factory: I figured I'd give it a separate post.

T-Rex of Museum Awesomeness: the Alimentarium

Planetarium: pictures of stars on a screen.
Imaginarium: overpriced '90s educational kiddie store.

Natch, neither of these compare with the four-room beaut of a particular museum in Vevey, Switzerland.

When the woman at Vevey's tourist center told us to walk down the river until we hit a giant fork and then to turn left, Erin scoffed at the pun that went over my head. But she was right, just like any city official; lo and behold:

(The whole Vevey setup reminded me of home, actually - the fork being a low-key version of Spoonbridge and the lakeside town being the mountainous, gorgeous older sister of Wayzata.)

We turned left, and walked into the Alimentarium's garden; rows of vegetables - including corn native to three different continents - lined the walkway.

The entry foyer featured wallpaper covered in French verbs for different cooking - and eating - techniques, but the museum only had four major rooms: cooking, eating, consuming and digesting.
Cooking
Erin and I led ourselves to a kitchen where the cooks at the in-house restaurant were prepping for the days' meal (souffles for two kiddie birthday parties). Surrounding the actual working equipment were displays of pots, pans and ovens, separated by global region. We joked around about photographing the notes, because they had tips on how to properly braise meat.


On the other side of the room were smaller "artifacts" - including these jell-o molds. Yes, you can get your asparagus jell-o to look like asparagus -- this would have been an easy cheat for the Brooklyn jell-o mold contest.

Eating
Erin, always the curator, was impressed by the unique setup of the Alimentarium collection: things in the eating room were displayed non-linearly, but in a tower, with a photo of the corresponding era that the items were from.


On the other hand, I was impressed with the fake food. The whole museum reminded me of Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry, which has a floor that is farming themed and, more importantly, filled with fake food.

As a child, I was always fascinated with fake and miniature food: things that resembled what you ate, but whose shape (and in the '90s, scent) remained long after you had its doppelganger. I couldn't stand dollhouses, the ghostly empty eyes of dolls who were in there, but I loved their kitchens; I received a Kitchen Littles grocery set for Christmas one year - which my cousin promptly destroyed. It's a little shameful to say that I have never quite fully forgiven and forgotten this particular incident on my beloved two-inch high fake slushie machine.

In any case, I marveled at the giant food pyramid (outdated!):


and the milk 'n' honey wafers from a pharoah's tomb:


years and years later, a remnant (of bread!) from the Irish famine:


and most definitely the display that showed what a "real person" should eat, five times a day, which finally legitimized elevenses (although this picture effectively says apples, not bagels, for Brain Break).

Erin and I also regressed and played the kiddie games, which were nutritional anthropology variations of Guess Who and Go Fish.

Consuming
By far, the most photographed part of the museum; we love our processed food and took lots of photos with our preferred cravings (not all of them are here).
As an economics major, I really enjoyed checking out how payment methods for groceries changed over time.

There were nine stations, each with some interactive video or ridiculous faux phone conversation, but the real star was the walls of the consumption room, which contained plexiglas'd food items from a typical Swiss grocery store.

There was a giant chocolate cup. The photo had to be taken.

The Nestle Room
The center of the museum is actually the Nestle room, where the Nestle board met in the late 19th century; as I've previously mentioned, Henry Nestle, the founder, was born in Vevey. The conference room is filled with information about old mergers and acquisitions as well as some Nestle memorabilia. A TV is set to loop old Nestle television commercials.

I should note that Nestle is mentioned frequently in the Consuming room as well - no other company is really represented in the sample. It's clear when you look at the three displays of chocolate history in the Alimentarium; only Nesquik and its previous incarnations are seen. In this sense, the Alimentarium especially reminded me of the Mill City Museum in Minneapolis, which is covered in Pillsbury material despite attempts to represent a unified Midwest mill scene.

Digesting
The scientific part of the museum (the temporary exhibit on the top floor was about the five senses and was rather dry...it consisted of vials of phenol red and inflatable balloons that represented ear and nose cells). Lots of self-quizzes about our eating and cooking habits, and a giant hamster wheel that was, admittedly, rather hard to jog in. Digesting concluded with a 3D film, highly reminiscent of the infamous Life Sciences 1a intro - we watched ten minutes of sugar molecules disappear down animated character's esophaguses and sweep around the body.


All in all, the museum was bliss for a food lover - probably not a sophisticated foodie (but you know they'd have wanted to run the hamster wheel too). Especially good for those of us who like to know where our food's from and who like our history laced - nay, saturated - with food. For those of you thinking about visiting: without all the photo ops, the museum would probably have taken an hour and a half.

Don't upload photos during lunch...

...especially if you haven't eaten yet. And you're hungry.

But anyways, if you're wondering what I've been doing since I last posted: food photos. That is, playing with the flower setting on my camera and realizing my capabilities of taking (for the most part) non-blurry pictures. Here's a few to share; all of them quirky brand appropriations. Photos linked to specific restaurants' menus to come later, with reviews. So, a brief tour of my spring:

Finally, the Pocky photoshoot (6, 7, 8). There is a high correlation between the quantity and quality of food photography and the quantity of problem sets to be done; the photos here were nicer as a result. Pocky basically consist of long cookies dipped in chocolate or other flavored, processed cream; this particular type (dessert) is dipped and then drizzled again with milk chocolate. And now, the photos:

The grocery store I hit up over break. It's an Asian grocery striving to become a supermarket...so it bought out a local Rainbow and promptly replaced the signage with appropriate ingredients. If I were you, I'd avoid the durian aisle.

A trip to Target (how exciting, given the limited transportation of a college student) yielded the next two items: Wildly Cherry M&Ms - not to be confused with Cherry Chocolate Rain - and Strawberry Milkshake Oreos. Though I've tried neither, the latter sounds more promising: I imagine that Wild Cherry M&Ms are a candy-coated version of cherry Hershey's Kisses. Which, for the record, was a bad idea, guys. Also, adding -ly to the word "wild" makes it that much schmaltzier.



Oreo Strawberry Milkshake Creme. Where are the Green Oreos now?

Back in Cambridge, I indulged in a Guts bar (on top of my math problem set) that someone brought me from Taiwan. Taiwanese junk food is among the most addicting...it's not too sweet, rather delicate, and if it's salty, it's laced with MSG. In this case, a Guts bar consists of a "egg roll" cookie covered in a layer of chocolate wrapped with nuts; its hollow interior is then filled with strawberry flavored creme. And funnily enough, it was only 178 calories (admittedly, still a lot, but not as much as I had expected). It had a nice combination of crunch and creme, although there was no chewy compromise and the chocolate layer was a little thick.

That said, Guts is a great name for a candy bar. It sounds so much more satisfying than Snickers.

The cross-section of a Guts bar proved photogenic (despite not being human). The strange reflection, of course, comes from the interior of the wrapper and not the bar.

Finally, the Pocky photoshoot. As you might have noticed from the top photo, there is a high correlation between the quantity and quality of food photography and the quantity of problem sets to be done. Pocky basically consist of long cookies dipped in chocolate or other flavored, processed cream; this particular type (it really is called dessert Pocky) is dipped and then drizzled again with milk chocolate.

Food: The Lit Review

What Hilary Eats, Hilary Gets

We all know Mike Huckabee can pull off the barbeque bib, but can Hilary?

Hopefully, all the candidates will each get a gastronomic profile...not that it would sway my vote.

Keep Your Laptop in the Kitchen

This Strib article refers to online cooking communities and bloggers, but emphasizes how most people share recipes: over the Internet. I can't say I'm surprised - and I definitely can't say that I'm unhappy about it. Comparing uploaded recipes to handwritten family recipes is like comparing the Kindle to a well-read copy of The Great Gatsby: no one can replace the latter, but technology opens up these ideas to a whole new demographic. I'm incredulous at what you can do with it - for example, we improvised homemade salsa for my sister's Super Bowl party, but were able to cross-check the ingredients online.

Chocolate doesn't have that much caffeine...

so I don't feel as guilty posting an NYT article about it here that discusses milk chocolate's recent comeback against the yuppie dark chocolate trend. No longer declasse, it's gourmet. Admittedly, I was one of those percentage snobs (as you can see in a previous post), but since then, I've been working my way back to milk chocolate. That said, it's difficult; although I know that milk chocolate has a "better" texture than the brittle bitter, sometimes I find it too rich (and occasionally too saccharine). Not saying that dark chocolate can't be rich (case in point: Burdick's), but the bitter almost buffers that overwhelmingly one-dimensioned taste.

And seeing as I can't participate in the sponsored wine-tastings here, I guess I'll have to settle for describing chocolate with "hefty bouquet" terms.

(Last two articles were graciously provided by Mr. Sohovich.)

Food 2.0, here we go

Instead of Web 2.0, we've got chocolate startups ahead.

Tcho's design looks particularly good. I like the check-off boxes for flavors...it's like blunt wine tasting for pre-yuppies.

Before you visit Boston

You should read this NYT article for a quick hit...

and notice that Burdick's, among other Cambridge establishments, was namedropped. (Not Finale, though - though I'll have a comparison of Finale vs. Burdick's after finals.) Oh Burdick's...how I'm so glad that you are so close to me on a icy winter's day.

Though I can't really handle 5 ounces of your thick hot chocolate (literally chocolate) and might have to settle for the mini two ounce instead. And as we learned in our mandatory drug seminar in our dorm, two ounces is a larger size than 1.7 ounce. Actually, that's fairly obvious - rather, two ounces is slightly more than a shot glass.

So that would be a shot of chocolate.

Yep.

Cadbury Weekend

The juxtaposition here is interesting:

The World's Best Candy Bars? English, Of Course

Cadbury fined $2 million over unsafe chocolate

The Cadbury in my supermarket you find here does taste like a Hershey's; good to figure out that the bars made here are both made by the Man.

Admittedly, I'm not a fan of either brand. I've read frequently in other books that Hershey's tastes like sour milk, vomit, etc., and consequently, that idea was stuck in my head. I tend to think that Hershey's tastes more chocolate-y and less like chocolate. Given that reputation, prominently displaying the Hershey's brand on their new upgraded, single-origin bars might backfire. For me, Hershey fits better in a general "candy" category, rather than chocolate.

On the other hand, selling Cadbury in its own customized Underground vending machines is a nice touch, compared to finding a Hershey bar randomly stuck next to a bag of Fritos. Cadbury is also fun to say in a British accent. But even when I can get my hands on the real deal, it's a little too rich for me (albeit creative!).

Even though they hold Cadbury's U.S. licensing, I suppose Hershey's might be getting revenge: sweet revenge. (The pun was necessary.) When people are so nationalistically dedicated to their candy, what better way to retaliate than by buying an opponent out?

...though I might be wrong on all of this. I am, after all, one of three people in the world the only person I know who likes Mr. Goodbars.

I'm back, and I'm still a Chocolate Snob.

Apologies - graduation (and the barrage of activities that go along with it) have held me captive for about the past two weeks. That isn't to say that I've stopped eating, though. Incidentally, three of the more memorable experiences this week involved food:

• The post-commencement reception - besides the jumbo cocktail shrimp, my personal favorite was the Craisin/bleu cheese endive "boats."
• Playing Apples to Apples - which really doesn't have to do with food, but for the fact that it's named after a food...or an idiom. Whew, I finally figured that out.
• Accidentally eating rum-soaked pineapple at one open house. Because I've never had alcohol, I thought the pineapple was canned in sugar water. Until after my third piece, I wondered why the chocolate fountain was so...bitter.
  

That said, I absolutely love dark chocolate. For the past few years, I have had trouble eating Hershey's chocolate (with the exception of recently-released Coconut Hershey's Kisses) as a result of its sour milk taste.

Last week, I made a trip to Whole Foods. Not including local chocolatiers (e.g. Bellaria Bakery, Just Truffles, BT McElrath, etc.) this is the place to go for good chocolate - to clarify, chocolate bars that don't empty my wallet.

Or at least, where I took a pilgrimage a la Steve Almond. His hilarious book, Candyfreak - specifically, the chapter on Lake Champlain chocolates - took me on a search for Five Star Bars to celebrate the end of finals.

My first find, the Fruit and Nut Bar ($2.49) was beyond brilliant. A quick disclaimer: the bar is about the size of a tiny 1" by 2" brick. But it's also as dense as one, which makes it about $1.25 an ounce - a fairly reasonable price. The Gianduja chocolate cut easily with a butter knife and melted in my mouth; there was just the right amount of fruit and nut (dried cherries) so that it didn't taste like trail mix. It also held well in my Tupperware for a few days - the chocolate was (enjoyably) rich enough to consume in three sittings.

The alleged crown jewel of the Five Star Bars, the Hazelnut Bar ($2.99), was more difficult to find. Before I searched Whole Foods, I tried to custom-order a box from Byerly's (which didn't work out). Unfortunately, as my search continued, my expectations had grown so high that when I finally found the Hazelnut Bar, it was a letdown. Steve Almond's account of the chocolate absolutely made me swoon, but in actuality, the chocolate seemed more cream than actual chocolate, and the sugar content made it hard to swallow without the chocolate coating my throat. The feuilletine (or "vanilla-infused geometric planes" as Almond calls them) were a nifty, crunchy little touch, especially when I cut the thick bar into cross-sections, but overall, the bar was too rich for my taste.

Moving on to different brands, I tried the Chocolove 55% cocoa with raspberries bar. Initially, I was attracted to the fact that 1) it was on sale ($2 for 3.2 ounces) and 2) it had a love poem as an insert.

I was also disappointed with this bar. The chocolate wasn't a problem, but the raspberries were a distraction. What had been advertised as "crispy bits of raspberry infused to flavor" was basically the same freeze-dried stuff found in Special K berry cereal, only in less generous quantities. The love poem was just English and obscure enough to seem trendy, and to apparently "accommodate" the poem, the large paper wrapper had made the chocolate bar seem thicker than it actually was.

Finally, I bought the Dolfin Chocolate Noir au the Earl Grey ($3.99 for 2.47 ounces). This 52% cocoa minimum came in a checkbook-sized, plastic-covered envelope. Major points for presentation (although it was covered by the price). There was no signs of caloric content, and so I cheerfully indulged over the past week. It was good, but try as I might, I could not taste the Earl Grey tea in the chocolate. There was no sense of bergamot (which gives Earl Grey its distinctive taste), although the chocolate did have some "grit" to it. Some of the bar tasted like coffee grounds - which wasn't a bad thing, texturally. The problem was that they were just tea bits without flavor.

Although most chocolate bars come in squares, I have a problem with this. First, squares are hard to remove from a bar. You have to break the bar in one direction, and then in the other. The Dolfin solved this problem by simply dividing the chocolate in little vertical chunks. I would also argue that triangle shaped pieces (not like Tolberone, though - those things are tough!) on a flat plane would do the trick. They tend to break the bar "naturally" and are easier to nibble on.

Lastly - now that we're on the subject of Earl Grey tea - did you know that Twinings makes a female equivalent called Lady Grey? Kind of sounds like the reverse situation as Men's Pocky.