Hamburger cupcakes

(via Flickr)

One of the better food shots coming through my Tumblr feed. These cupcakes definitely beat the garish green lettuce of hamburger cupcakes past, and strike a lethal blow to all stale hamburger gummies.

Dear Cheesecake Factory, please stop pretending we're bffls

Thanks again for the buy-one-get-one and free slice coupons for after Valentine's day, and also for the free pumpkin pecan samples (easily the best, non-overwhelming cheesecake ever on your premises), but no thank you for pretending you've got me all figured out with a five question, four choice quiz.

In any case, I couldn't help taking it: all of you know I have a semi-addiction to online quizzes. I no longer post them on my blog, but I do tell people that I'm strawberry Pocky and vanilla bean Frappuchino from time to time.

My response: "Heidi, you are Adam's Peanut Butter Cup Fudge Ripple. The incredible mix of qualities that makes you so appreciated is nothing short of miraculous, just like this cheesecake. A lot goes into this flavor, all delicious. This mouth-watering mosaic is comprised of our 'Original' cheesecake swirled with caramel...(insert gratuitous descriptions of sugary elements here). Just like you, it's an awe-inspiring combination of ingredients - not soon forgotten!"

Wow, I could totally make a singles ad for myself with this info. But let's deconstruct, piece by piece:

• Who the heck is Adam? Why am I his?
• I am "miraculous." This cheesecake is "miraculous." The virgin birth is "miraculous," which leads me to think that the Cheesecake Factory's description is semi-blasphemous.
• "A lot goes into this flavor" - thanks for acknowledging hard work? I'll give them credit for that...
• "Mouth-watering mosaic" - this sounds like my college application, minus the "mouth-watering." That would be a creepy thing to write in my admissions essay. But not in a singles ad, which I've already hinted (see? hint) this is.
  
• Why is Original in quotation marks? Is it because Original means regular cheesecake? Or is it somehow actually original? JUST LIKE ME?
• Similar to the first sentence, the "awe-inspiring combination," reminds me that I have n redeeming qualities, where n is greater than one and is the number of dates you should take me on. Whew.
  
• Not soon forgotten. Screams "take me on a second date." How does that work if I'm in the possessive pronoun framework of some guy I don't know?

I decided to do two other quizzes reflecting the personalities of my friends M and L (male and female, respectively), since I thought I could fill in their answers fairly accurately.

"M, you are Chocolate Peanut-Butter Cookie Dough. Those who know you appreciate your ability to have fun and when to get serious. That's why you'll appreciate being paired with this flavor - it's multi-faceted, just like you. This memorable dessert pairs three fun favorites...What a seriously fun creation!"

• First of all, choco-pb cookie dough sounds intense. The only cookie dough I ate was chocolate chip, and I was always paranoid about eggs so I got the prepared stuff.
• This is no longer a dating quiz; this is about finding your favorite lab partner for the next year.
  
• At least "multi-faceted" sounds like "mosaic."
• "Memorable" appears again!
• And ohmygosh. Did they just use the phrase "seriously fun" in a failed attempt of oxymoronism? Because I think I just regressed to seventh grade.

"L, you are 30th Anniversary Chocolate Cake Cheesecake. You know what it means to be wonderfully layered, which is why this cheesecake is your perfect match. Commemorating a special occasion is always a joy, and like a night out with you, this cheesecake is reason to celebrate. Four layers...bring huge smiles - especially when shared with you!"

• More dating advice: "I love celebrating with you because you're the reason to celebrate," "I love sharing cheesecake with you because you're both so wonderfully layered."
• I can definitely see this cheesecake as a giant celebration: "Honey, I'm buying you 30th Anniversary Cheesecake on our three month anniversary after I divorced that hag."

One thread brought all of these together: I had indicated a similar personality on all the quizzes, and it gave us "mosaic," "multifaceted" and "layered." While I definitely got the better end of the deal ("miraculous" = trump card), it was time to see if a series of vastly different replies would yield a even better - or funnier - result.

Time to check out a blockmate or two.

"A, you are Chocolate Mousse Cheesecake. You share a match with a truly elegant flavor. The smoothest of all our cheesecakes, its sophisticated French sensibilities shine through in every slice. There's only one word that describes you both - magnifique!"

Whew, so it's not one slice fits all - but now I know that A is a smooth operator.

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.

Two unrelated links

1. A sponsored ad above my inbox: Black bean brownies (and not the chocolate kind). This reminds me of the balsamic vinegar recipe above my bed, courtesy of my cupcake calendar.

2. I couldn't wait another eleven months (that is, Valentine's Day) to post this hilarious 2002 piece from the New Yorker.

Enjoy.

Future field trip: Toscanini's

Man, it's hard to keep up with Toscanini's. A personal, probably-not-so-accurate timeline:

Three weeks ago - passed by on my way to Royal East (review forthcoming).
Two weeks ago - planned outing for the weekend with roomie.
Ten days ago - found out from Hank that it was closed for not paying taxes.
Last week - bummed out because I had missed out on cucumber sorbet.
Now - Toscanini's is back in business; on to the cake batter ice cream!

The view from Berryline

(strawberry and kiwi on coconut froyo)

Three or four trips later, we're nearing the end of official finals week. Whew.

You're got thirteen days...ready, set, go

Aside from dollar-scoop Tuesday, here's another of Baskin-Robbins' perks:

Click here for a buy-one-get-one sundae coupon (until January 31).

Enjoy.

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.

Fortune Cookies and Good Reads

I recently found Jennifer 8. Lee's blog, the Fortune Cookie Chronicles, and am loving it. She happens to be releasing her book (of the same name) in March, and it's about the history and role of Chinese food in America. Obviously, it's about food, but it's also about culture (example from the summary: "unique bond between Chinese food and American Jewry" - yes).

In any case, she recently wrote a piece for the New York Times about the fortune cookie's backstory, which my sister forwarded to me. Check it out - surprisingly, a historian argues the fortune cookie could have stemmed from Japan. And if I've told you about my return to Boston last week (where the annoying know-it-all across from me claimed fortune cookies were from China - more on him later) then this article seems to be in good timing.

For me and for him.

Why we hate Adams House

(our schedule yesterday)
10:30-12:30 pm: pwnage on finals (hopefully)
9:00 - 10:00 pm: waiting outside
Adams House after rejection :(

One thing about Harvard is that we are over-fed
during reading period and finals. For instance, "Sweet and Savory" marked the beginning of reading period, and tonight will mark chocolate fountain night. Meanwhile, dinner was "Southern night," consisting of your typical standards: beef brisket, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, cornbread, pecan pie...everything except the collard greens (which for me, make the meal). When I mentioned this to someone, they asked if they were trying to kill us - whether calorically or by making better food, I don't know. In any case, I thought of it more as one (nay, the) last meal before finals.

Back to Adams: traditionally known as the artsy house (it has a theater converted from a pool, and underground tunnel murals), it also happens to be closer to the Yard, making it a convenient location. And as I've briefly mentioned before, it is notoriously strict about keeping doors shut to outsiders during peak dining times. Upperclassmen from other houses can usually get away with eating there - Pfoho residents have access anytime - but freshmen are a little bit more recognizable (though it's never impossible).

In any case, an email with Adams House's special Brain Breaks (basically, free food at night, aka sandwiches, leftover desserts and cereal) for finals week came over several email lists:

Mon - 50s Diner night with an open grill
Tues - Smoothies
Wed - Chocolate in all its forms
Thurs - Baked Potato bar
Fri - Ice cream bash
Mon - Nacho bar

My dormmates and I decided to crash Tuesday night's break; it had been a while since we had had smoothies. I ended up going a few minutes later, but on the way to Adams, I got a call where Kat promptly informed me that they had been...rejected. Their outsider status had been signaled by the fact that they wore coats.

As such, I decided to pretend I was a resident; after all, everyone had done it before. But upon entering Adams, I was greeted by another dormmate at the door.
"Take off your coat, walk in - get those mittens off! - and go meet everyone else at the door. Bring them in as your guests. Get an extra smoothie for me. Walk fast, act cool."
I thought I was being briefed on a CIA mission, so I followed her instructions exactly. But I was carded (by hand - not swiped) and promptly rejected as a freshman...and we grumbled (though we made a trip to Berryline) on our return, hopes smashed to the ground.

In short, grr.

Recipe: Laura's Brown Sugar Toast

The first time I tried this was last Wednesday, when Laura made a few slices for our dormmate dinner table in the 'Berg. Incidentally, that day was also 65 degrees outside - ridiculously warm for a January day in Boston. But one bite made me warm and fuzzy inside; I almost felt obligated to not enjoy the spring breeze and to eat oatmeal for dinner. But since the January thaw is now ending (major snow tomorrow!), I'm legitimately obligated to enjoy this.

Brown sugar and toast initally seems like a logical combination in retrospect - especially since both have gritty textures - but the more I think about it, I've only really done honey and toast, and for elevenses at that.

• 1 slice of bread
• brown sugar and butter

Take one slice of bread and toast it. During this time, take a small bowl and mix 1 teaspoon of brown sugar with one or two teaspoons (or "knife-fuls") of butter. Immediately after removing the bread from the toaster, slather the mixture onto the hot toast. There shouldn't be any visible white chunks of butter on the toast, and the brown sugar should be clumping.

Note: Our dining hall toaster (and I believe others' colleges) works like an assembly line machine. I suppose you should imagine its movement like the doughnut machinery at a Krispy Kreme shoppe. That is, you put the toast onto a moving platform where it moves toward the heat in the back of the toaster, and it suddenly falls down onto a crumb tray below the toaster. The reasoning behind this is for strangers to toast with you at the same time without waiting...but not that sketchy-sounding.

So given that platform, you could hypothetically put the brown sugar/butter mixture onto the bread, and then into the toaster...but I probably wouldn't do that. Some reasons:

1. Dude, it's against the rules? (Technically, the toaster could get set on fire, and dining services wouldn't be happy.)
2. If that doesn't happen though, don't expect your brown sugar toast to be melty good - I mean, I know that brown sugar and heat pretty much make up caramel. We used to do that in chem. But chances are that your toast is also going to get burned and turned black; word on the street is that eating that crusty black stuff causes cancer (fancy word: carcinogen.) And you really can't control the timing on your toast (unless you stick your hand in the back of the toaster to reach for your bread - um, bad idea), to boot.
3. In the final step, the newly-born toast falls off the platform into the crumb tray, possibly doing a little aerial trick in the process. That means if you put brown sugar and butter on your bread, it could possibly flip face down and collect those bagel crumbs from someone's random breakfast for you to eat. That's kind of weird.

Um...yeah. Happy eating.

Where gluttony might be tolerated: Sweet and Savory

"Dear Members of the Class of 2011:

You are warmly invited to attend...
A Study Break hosted by President Drew Faust
"Sweet and Savory"

This is an opportunity you do not want to miss!
Come enjoy the amazing food, the company of your fellow freshmen, music, dancing, and a chance to mix and mingle with President Faust!

For those who like SWEET - it's a dessert lover's dream!
Including chocolate covered strawberries, fresh fruit, cheesecake with strawberry sauce, fudge layer cake, chocolate raspberry cake, and more!

For those who prefer SAVORY - it's munchies madness!
Including a potato skins bar, a nacho bar, and all the fixings you could imagine!

Music provided by DJ BC."

My friends had been buzzing about the study break a few days ago, and even ate less for dinner in hopes of indulging themselves on nachos. Needless to say, the hype extended to the freshman class, and by 9:15, there were crowds filling their plates with cake. A quick summary:

The amount of available sugar was astounding. While the advertised chocolate raspberry cake was a no-show, petits fours did take its place. Out of boxes, the cake was somewhat dry; in particular, the frosting was slightly hardened. The sweets weren't the high point - but the fruit was. Thankfully, my dorm entryway came early to grab chocolate-covered strawberries before they ran out. Actually, my roommate enjoyed getting fruit besides typical mealy apples and gladly went for blueberries.

The potato skins were my favorite, admittedly because I hadn't had any since I had left for college. I was impressed by the fact that dining services did carve out the potato flesh, resulting a nice hollow for my mushrooms-and-cheese-sauce filling. The consensus among my table was that this was the best pseudo-meal since Drew Faust's inauguration dinner (which involved sparkling cider, Grape-Nuts ice cream, and butternut squash tortellini, all made within 100 miles of Cambridge. Fortunately, the latter has made several appearances since October).

And yes, some people did dance...though the mood in the 'Berg was like orientation all over again.

A fitting attempt to compensate for the finals week looming in the background?

Ice Cream: the Gateway Drug to...Froyo?

Once upon a time, it was a balmy September week in Boston: orientation time. As the freshmen scurried along from one social event to another, one thing stayed constant: Herrell's. Though distinguished with its rows of "Best of Boston" plaques, the Boston institution was omnipresent:

Back tables of Annenberg? Check.
Dorm social? Check.
Club raffle? Check.
The pile of $1 coupons I got off the street? Check.

As a young, eager freshman, I remember the feeling. It was only a few months ago that my September consisted of Herrell's, Herrell's and more Herrell's (and thankfully not the effects of the freshman fifteen). I must have had Herrell's ice cream an average of six times per week. After the first day of orientation, I knew that in Herrell's flavor-speak, malted chocolate really meant "haute Ovaltine" and oh! that chocolate pudding flavor was to swoon for. Not to mention the thick, almost chewy-caramel texture of the ice cream...and the fact that their peppermint flavor looked natural (that is, it sure wasn't green like what I had been used to). I unabashedly pronounced Herrell's the best ice cream in Boston - nay, the world.

Well, that opinion hasn't flip-flopped yet...but my consumption has.

-------

In mid-September, I received an invite (through Facebook) to try out Berryline. A new frozen yogurt store that had recently opened, it looked like a Pinkberry knockoff to me.

I wasn't impressed. After all, my first time trying "legit" froyo was at Yo!Berry. Which was refreshing, but sour and "healthy-tasting" enough for me to imagine that active cultures were gnawing my way through my intestine. And this place had even incorporated the "berry" into their name, again. In any case, I halfheartedly emailed my sister (a Yo!Berry fanatic), and she decided to try it.

She ended up hooked.

And...well, me too. The colorful paintings lining the walls made the place feel like the hip Harvard version of the Digital Bean, in which I once envisioned spending my peppy, Disney-saturated adolescence. (The Digital Bean is to Lizzie McGuire as Central Perk was to Friends.) Thanks to the 125-calorie-for-five-ounces small serving and the "buy ten, get one free deal, " I reasoned that I was probably losing calories and getting a free froyo on the ten-minute walk over.

Let's not forget the yogurt, too: the crust was icy, but the interior was so creamy that it almost felt like ice cream. But not typical ice cream goodness: flavors I sampled over the semester included mango (my personal favorite), green tea, acai (the new, trendy berry), blueberry and pomegranate. Sweet and healthy.

Later towards the holiday season, they handed out their first non-fruit flavor besides original vanilla: peppermint. (In fact, upon discovering this, I jumped up and down and screamed "peppermint!" My roommate hasn't stopped telling this little anecdote.) And yet the draw for many of my friends was the fresh fruit: after fighting each other for the remaining grapes at Annenberg, they suddenly found that they could get mango, raspberries or even blackberries on top of their froyo - in December.

So it's suddenly easy to understand the addiction: all the 10 pm rendezvouses, study breaks and roomie trips you can imagine (that's right, at one point pulling in at five times a week). And with their promise of free Wi-fi access, I suddenly had an excuse to go by myself. (Even if I didn't bring anything except my wallet, which at this point was being used exclusively for Berryline expenses. By the way, thanks to Peer Advising Fellow - PAF - John, who funded one random trip when he saw my roommate and I there on a Thursday night.)

In essence, I started - to put it bluntly - stalking Berryline, finding out what their flavors were and memorizing store hours. I wasn't the only one: the owners (post-docs at Harvard and MIT) and the store got press, press, press. (The story of how Berryline happened to be is feel-good. I daresay the froyo's better.) When I headed to Berryline at night, there'd be a line stretching outside the door. In one case, a 10:30 pm Friday craving with my roommate put me behind a inebriated girl who needed two extra larges to satisfy her and a couple friends' own cravings.

And now I have a purpose for my Secret Santa gift certificates, because of this week's specialty flavors. Despite being at home, I immediately sent out an email to a few dormmates:

"Um, could we schedule a Berryline run sometime this weekend? Current flavors are original, raspberry and choco cookies 'n cream..."

The result: immediate responses within an hour.

"How do you know that?? Is there a website or something? and YES i NEED
raspberry!!!! HURRY AND COME HOME!!!!!!!!!!!"

"YES we SHALL GO!!!! HIP HIP HOORAY!"

"I would really, really, like to experience the RASPBERRY flavor..."

You said it.

-------

I don't mean to say that Berryline has converted me into anti-ice cream...or anti-Herrell's. But in Ec10, we learned that frozen yogurt and ice cream are essentially substitutes for one another. It's hard for me to say goodbye to Herrell's, so I won't. (In a case of dairy polygamy, I might get some pumpkin cheesecake ice cream when I return. It's hard to say though; I didn't check their flavors like I did with Berryline.) But the raspberry froyo beckons me: hello, hello again, Berryline!

On milkshakes

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like, it's better than yours." - Kelis, "Milkshake"

Long before Urban Dictionary attempted to clarify Kelis' lyrics, I had long shied away from the milkshake. It's not that I was actually fearful of it - or even lactose-intolerant - but I questioned its legitimacy.

In fact, the ambiguous identity of the milkshake kept me at bay, until sometime this year; now I have a hesitant, though no longer estranged - relationship with this dairy curiosity. After all, milkshakes straddle the border between beverage and dessert. Why buy a milkshake if you can get a scoop of ice cream or even a slice of pecan pie (my fatal weakness)? Why drink a milkshake when you can get a caramel latte, an actual drink? What's the difference between a smoothie and a milkshake? And what the heck is a milkshake, at least in the Kelis sense? What makes a good milkshake? And what led me towards the milkshake lifestyle?

Well, read ahead.

1. Why drink milkshakes?
The cheater way to answer this question would be that it depends on your taste. That’s probably the right answer, too.

I can't quite elaborate on the superiority of the milkshake over other sweet substitutes, since I've never loved milkshakes for their texture. They felt too much like drinks, and not even one that satisfied my thirst. And how healthy you believe a milkshake is depends on the framing involved behind the marketing. The "milk" in the milkshake might suggest vitamin D or calcium, but a milkshake has as many calories as an ice cream sundae. After all, a milkshake has ice cream in it, too. On the other hand, a caramel latte, as a beverage, gives the impression of having less calories than either of the previous two options.

Yeah, right.

So I suppose it’s about whatever floats your boat. Although if you’re drinking milkshakes, I suppose there’s no banana boat involved.

2. What's the difference between a smoothie and a milkshake?

I'll hand over this job to Wikipedia: after all, if Wikipedia says it, it must be true:

"A milkshake is a sweet, cold beverage which is made from milk, ice cream, or iced milk, and sweet flavorings such as fruit syrup or chocolate sauce..."

A fairly basic definition. (Side note: I'm a huge fan of actual frozen milk - not the sherbet/sorbet concoction Wikipedia links to for "iced milk." Our freezer was set too cold, and I woke up five minutes before class scooping frozen skim out of the carton. Delicious - no sarcasm.)

"A smoothie is a blended, chilled, sweet beverage made from fresh fruit. It is sometimes blended with crushed ice, frozen fruit, or frozen yogurt, although it can be argued that adding these items makes the drink less of a smoothie and not entirely natural. They have a milkshake-like consistency which is thicker than slush drinks, but unlike milkshakes, they do not usually contain cow's milk or ice cream. Smoothies are marketed to health-conscious people..."

There we go: the difference is marked by non-fruit flavors (or fruit syrup) versus actual fruit, as well as a recurring lack of dairy.

So if smoothies don't involve dairy and "regular flavors," then how do we advocate for Jamba Juice's matcha smoothie imposter, aka the Matcha Green Tea Blast? Well, we don't have to - Jamba Juice's online menu doesn't refer to any of its items as smoothies. So when I complain about the icy texture on my Caribbean Passion, it's partially from the inherent definition of the smoothie, if not from a shortened blending time. On the other hand, Orange Julius' smoothies are creamy good impostors, by the Wikipedia definition.

Conclusion: whatever floats your boat. (Again.)

3. What is a Kelis-style milkshake?

Since it's a long-debated question among my fellow friends and dormmates, I can't give a conclusive answer here without an equally valid (or quoteworthy) retort. Unfortunately, the best bet for settling the dispute - Urban Dictionary (in lieu of a sketchier venue) - contains a variety of interpretations. Apologies for the bait-and-switch!

4. What makes a good milkshake?

Most people would probably say the richness or the quality of the ice cream involved: texture is key. (Did you know that in Boston, "milkshakes" are made with syrup and milk? Adding ice cream transforms the creamy concoction into a "frappe" in the Boston vernacular. Now that's good trivia.)

I take a different tack, though - I really don't like thick milkshakes. By those standards, my first time drinking a "legit milkshake" was actually last summer with my cousin Howard. Sitting in the Steak 'n Shake (which is open twenty-four hours, for the win) was quite enjoyable, but I underestimated the regular sized dark chocolate shake (approximately 20 ounces of short-run energy, topped off with real whipped cream and chocolate chips). Whoops. Since then, I've had an aversion to thick shakes - even at Herrell's, where as the Tufts Daily claims, "their milkshakes bring all the boys to Harvard Yard." and of all things, Bartley's Burgers. (Reviews for both forthcoming.) And that leads me to my last question:

5. Why convert?

I might've misled you when I said I didn't like milkshakes, and as previously stated, I'm still wary of them. But having found the definition of milkshake, I do realize that I did like some milkshakes from the very beginning - they just weren't the traditional sort. For instance, good ol' Mickey D's, spurned for its artificial ingredients, captured the sweet taste buds on the tip of my tongue, as did Orange Julius' tropical pseudo-smoothies. Why?

Somewhat thinner than other comparable dairy desserts, these shakes are thin enough to be easily slurped up by a straw and foamy at the top. Perhaps their machinized production process appeals to the soft-serve addict in me.

As George Orwell might (not) have said at his (non-existent) neighborhood soda fountain, "All milkshakes are created equal...but some milkshakes are more equal than others." Certainly, all milkshakes start off with milk, "a flavor," and optional ice cream, but the product quality can defined by the qualities of each individual ingredient. That's probably a good place to start, but ultimately, evaluating a milkshake - as well as whether one likes them in general - is for the most part, subjective. (So yes, reviews are subjective - but finding bits of plastic wrap in your food should be a good indicator of "bad.")

Whether they lead to Harvard Yard - or uh...hopefully not Kelis' - a little more milkshake taste-testing won't hurt too badly. I think.

Things that bother me, #486

When ice cream (that includes fro-yo, shaved ice, popsicles, gelato, etc.) melts. Or worse, drips.

Don't let it happen.

Sincerely,
Heidi

----

On a side note, I tried black sesame ice cream last weekend. It had the right "only-slightly-gritty" texture, but even better, had a mild taste that wasn't vanilla-y. In addition, my $1.75 cone came with two scoops, which I was allowed to divide into two cones. Yumtastic.

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.

Review: I-Mei Black Sesame Ice Cream Omochi

I
After a review of chocolate, I felt like continuing on the ol' dessert route. I-Mei Black Sesame Ice Cream Omochi ($5) did the trick. It was the last box in the Chinese market freezer, so I was a little bit suspicious, but I decided to interpret that as overwhelming consumer demand rather than the possibility of being a guinea pig. My mother also told me that I-Mei, as a well-known Taiwanese brand, would be reliable with taste.

I opened the box - there were five packages of 2 mochi (called "omochi" here) each, filled with black sesame ice cream. Each ball was relatively larger and heavier, compared to other ice cream mochi brands: about 2 inches in diameter. I did like the individual packaging of the ice cream mochi (above), but the tiny two-pronged fork, while cute, was useless. I used my fingers.

Some freezer burn was evident on my mochi, but again, my observation may have been based on my "guinea pig paranoia." Holding the mochi (still dusted with rice flour) seemed to get rid of the burn; I found that if I waited a little longer, the shell as well as the ice cream took on a softer, more "authentic" texture.

As for the ice cream center, it initially tasted like vanilla, with small pieces of sesame grit, but as time passed, I tasted some (but not much) black sesame as it began to melt. I did like the texture of the mochi better than other brands, and I did like the fact that it highlighted an Asian flavor. In fact, this mochi reminded me of a Chinese dessert - much smaller "mochi" with sesame or red bean filling, boiled in hot water. This particular omochi seemed too "sophisticated" to be a novelty (like a chocolate mochi), but would be improved if the black sesame flavor was stronger.

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.