Ginger People Ginger Peanut Chews

After a fairly awful week of fairly awful items, I figured you all deserved a break. Here's some good old fashioned food, with calories and flavor and edible components that you might actually want to eat. My good friend Rodzilla once clarified his reasons behind an A+, illustrating his point with an impressive stack of ice cream cartons. Tonight's product follows a similar principle. What makes a good, solid product for Foodette? Well, for starters, it's an embarrassing lack of photos due to consumption. Believe me, we were very close to photographing an empty package for you!
This product has some of the most unique packaging I've ever encountered, not so much in the physical execution so much as the visual. Their logo is an anthropomorphic ginger root, with hedonistically plump features and a come hither gaze. He is typically entwined with whatever additional flavored component is in the actual candy, in this case, a shapely peanut. Perhaps the most disturbing part is that on each package, he is featured either preparing or eating his own flesh- ginger pieces! That being said, if the Ginger People ever marketed a plush version of their mascot or slapped this guy on a t-shirt, I'd be all over it.Once we ate one of these peanut ginger chews, courtesy of the Ginger People, we simply could not stop. With a short ingredient list and a mere 20 calories per chew, these are a winner in not only flavor, but health. Obviously, the Ginger People are known for ginger, and these chews incorporate said ingredient in a very refined and well-executed fashion. For the most part, I found that these chews had an addictive enough flavor and spiciness that grew in intensity with each bite, but weren't so mindlessly chewable that I felt as though I was at risk of eating too many. Each chew is roughly the size of a Starburst, though rectangular, and is coated in corn starch and powdered sugar. It has an initial coolness on the tongue as a result of that coating, but then the sharp ginger flavor comes through brilliantly, with a clean and smooth heat that permeates the entire chew.
The peanut influence is also strong, and manifests itself in a flavor and format similar to the texture of natural peanut butter, with a pleasant graininess and not-too-sweet taste. The sweetness of the ginger really accentuates the nutty flavors of the peanuts, and supplements their lack of sweetness with the natural fruity flavor of ground ginger. Really well balanced and delicious to eat. Because they're individually wrapped, they're incredibly easy to slip in a pocket or purse if you don't feel like taking the whole package along on a trip or to class. These will definitely come in handy for soothing a winter cold as well as satiating my sweet tooth in the months to come.

Askinosie Dark Milk Chocolate + Licorice CollaBARation Bar

As much as I go ga-ga for the latest limited edition bag of chips or Kwanzaa-themed taco from Taco Bell, it is an absolute treat to receive wintry desserts and chocolates in the mail. No doubt. When I got this bar from Askinosie, it sat on my reviewing desk for a while, and then moved to the kitchen. While I knew it would be amazing, I was a little afraid to review it.
Black licorice and chocolate? And anise seeds to boot? I feared my intrepid nature had gone too far. But winter is slowly encroaching upon us like an aged ogling spectator at the gym, and there's nothing we can do to stop it but sit inside and eat. Pity, really. In the spirit of all things chilly, because really, Western Mass, it's the first day I haven't been able to go outside with a t-shirt on, so I poured myself a finger (okay, two) of 10 year Laphroaig and got my virtual fireplace on, preparing to try this bar. #boss
Askinosie's dark chocolate is superb and despite the $10 price tag and limited release on this bar, I encourage you to check this out as a gift or a treat. The packaging is especially clever, with the label and bar inside a glassine sleeve, whose opaque tint blurs some words and emphasizes others. It's bold, yet minimal. I've mentioned my love for their Socunusco here, and while their Davao is 62% as opposed to the robust 75% of the Socunusco, it's no less potent and sweet. On its own, the chocolate is glossy and thick, with a firm, shiny exterior and snap. The Davao has grassy, olive-like notes with a tangy, coffee finish. This particular bar studs the Davao with pieces of salted black licorice from renowned Scandinavian factory Lakritsfabriken, anise seeds, and fleur de sel.
Texture-wise, this offers a melange of thoughtful bites to maneuver on the tongue, starting a curiously sensual process before taste even enters the picture. The pieces of licorice are soft and chewy and the anise seeds and salt start to dissolve and soften in your mouth before the chocolate. Tempting as it was to wolf down each piece, I found that letting it melt and linger on the tongue released far more earthy, savory notes than chewing it did- though it was an extremely difficult effort to not mindlessly eat the entire bar. The salted elements infuse the bar in a few different ways. While there is a persistent mild salinity from the fleur de sel, a pleasant contrast to the briny flavors in the chocolate, every so often the licorice yields small pockets of salt that shock the tongue delicately and open up those sweetly subtle anise flavors and brown sugar/molasses notes.
This is an absolutely crafted bar, no doubt about that. It is not something to casually eat on the way to work or after a big meal with ice cream. It is too nuanced and delicate to eat alongside other sweet foods. With a small glass of scotch on the rocks, it quelled all cravings for any other foods. It's compelling enough to enjoy in small pieces but not so intense that it overwhelms the palate. It is easily one of the tastiest bars I have eaten this year and carries the same level of precision as any Vosges or Amano with attention to balance in its flavors and the showcasing of its amazing chocolate. Saving the remaining squares for Miss Love will be an arduous task indeed.

Taza Salt and Pepper Chocolate Mexicano

The kind-hearted people who proclaim on their Tweet feeds and Facebook statuses that they are backhandedly spontaneous 'cause they "dance in the rain when noones watchin" are morons. Either that, or they've never had the privilege of sitting through a New England summer storm. My point is, the weather was dismal tonight and we spent the night inside grousing and eating chocolate while watching South Park. When I picked up this Taza bar at the Fancy Food Show, I never anticipated a situation where I'd be using it to make a hot chocolate in the middle of August. And yet, it warmed us up and did so much more.

Taza makes some of the more aesthetically pleasing, minimally designed bars on the market, with a South American inspired typeface and a wax-paper wrapped circle scored into wedges. It also comes in flavors more eclectic than the average Hershey bar, like the salt and pepper flavor we tried today. Salt is staid at this stage in the game, but pepper is the new caramel, and they make a phenomenal pairing, but are difficult to combine correctly. The disc shape makes it entertaining to eat and break, and instead of one large, heavy piece, each package contains two thin circles. You will eat both. It's inevitable. However attractive this bar is, it could resemble the afterproduct of an elephant's lunch and still bowl us over.

The bar is made from 55% dark chocolate, which is fruity and smooth on its own with a slightly bitter, sweet flavor. The snap is classically waxy and clean. Combined with the sea salt and cracked peppercorns, it is pleasantly grainy, like cold cookie dough, with a gritty melt to each bite. It was incorporated into the entire bar rather than being sprinkled lavishly on top, an extra step that really benefited the bar's unique texture. It was a genuinely harmonious set of flavors and textures, laid out in a format that was easy to eat and cook with. We also experimented with it in a drink format, and paired with olive oil.

Pairing hard, dark chocolate with olive oil is a pairing that I've considered but have always been somewhat indifferent to. With this bar, that game is forever changed. The natural sweetness in the olive oil coaxed out some of the chocolate's riper, robust organic notes, and the salt and pepper obviously paired well with the savory drizzle. Because the chocolate was not too creamy, the fats in the oil cradled, rather than curdled, the melting confection. It was messy, gooey, and subtly sweet. We've given it a permanent place on our imaginary ten course dessert tasting menu.

As a drink, this was also incredibly smooth and rich, but the unanimous decision was that it fared better as a solid chocolate. The bar had an unusually high melting point and shaved into gorgeous curls that had a hard time melting as they hit the warm milk. Eventually, they faded away in waxy brown whorls on the surface. The resulting flavor was chocolatey, but inconsistent in texture. It was smooth for the most part but with that damning Hershey's syrup effect on the bottom, proving it to be mainly insoluble in the milk.

Cold and eventually frozen, it was embarrassingly better than most chocolate ice creams I've had. The salt and pepper flavors were subdued, but still tangy enough to provide a distinct depth to the flavor. It was the best testimony of all to know that at 11:30 at night, we were researching 24 hour bodegas and groceries in the tri-state area to find some more of these bars, as we'd completely decimated our sample. This was a phenomenal example of how to do salt and pepper correctly and in a graceful, bold manner.

Osem Bamba Peanut Snack with Hazelnut Cream Filling

Everyone has some sort of pleasure that they're able to construe as guilty. Whether it's guilty because of the potential negative ramifications it may later have, like in the case of the dearly departed DJ Screw, whose péché mignon, the infamous codeine laced "purple drank", led to his untimely death, or simply a harmless lust a la John Hinckley Jr., everyone's bound to have one. For me, it's watching Modern Family. For Keepitcoming Love, it's the genetically engineered flavor of really, really good fast food. For Swagger, it's watching Modern Family. And drinking hot sauce out of the bottle. I'm also a huge fan of all things chip-based. Doritos, Utz, Lay's, you name it, I've tipped the crumbs into my mouth.
Thanks to the innovations of Osem USA, I can now achieve my dream of creating the ultimate stoner snack without even having to go bug the kids at the local high school for a joint or two. They've created peanut-flavored Cheez Doodles with a Nutella-esque filling in the form of their hazelnut cream filled Bamba snacks. They resemble sweet Combos. I feel like the socialization section of my college career is now complete, having unlocked the final achievement of having the perfect party treat for Ganjafest 2012.
The hazelnut Bamba snacks are a pretty obvious metaphor for the guilt part of guilty pleasures, much like the obvious metaphor of working class oppression in Thomas the Tank Engine. Not really. They have less nutritional value in them than all the lyrics of Hall and Oates' "Rich Girl" and yet, like that damned song, are so fucking irresistible. The peanut flavor is predominant in this and comes across as a salty, crumbly presence like the innards of a Reeses. It works beautifully with the corn puff, which provides its own neutral flavor and a crunch. In a blind tasting, I'd have probably guessed this to be of Japanese provenance. You know what weird stuff they're always doing to their Cheetos.
But the hazelnut comes in at the very end, a subtly textured but powerfully flavored component in the puff. It creates the entire puff to melt in the mouth with its luscious, chocolatey flavor. I love these. They have all the overloaded indulgence of an American snack and the mystique of the Middle East in their baby-covered, flavor mishmash goodness. They are sublime. They could (and do) have a thousand calories in them and I wouldn't change a damned thing. It doesn't get guiltier than that. Unless you're having it with a glass of OJ and a side of Casey Anthony was fairly judged by a jury of her peers, so call a waambulance already.
Did I go too far?

Guilty pleasure.

Roast Beef Smitty Sandwich, State Street Deli, Northampton, MA

I wrote extensively about my lust for the curried turkey salad at the State Street Deli in Northampton, MA, last year. While I was courting the curry, a new item caught my eye the last time we were in State Street, and some five-odd sandwiches later, I can now confide to you that I am smitten with Smitty- the Roast Beef Smitty sandwich, that is.
It combines my love for simplicity in a sandwich and spreads it with a sultry housemade Boursin cheese. With that bogglingly slight change, it transforms a provincial brown bag lunch into a savory treat for the senses. You'd consider it an overreaction, unless, of course, you had one of these yourself. By combining the gustatory, albeit caloric, pleasures of adding cheese and mayo, the Boursin acts as both a condiment and a necessary lubricant for maintaining a textural balance in the sandwich's core. The saltiness is a predominant flavor, but comes across as a medley of flavors spawning from the roast beef and the spread without overwhelming. The slight tang from the sourdough turns stodgy into sophisticated.
In my daily sniffing around of the grocery store, I pleaded with the cute employees and begged them to sell me the Boursin separately, so that I could make these in my own kitchen, turn into a gleeful, obese monster, and never have to leave the house again. They declined, possibly for fear of lawsuits or losing the 7% of sales I currently bring in, but did indulge my gluttony with the recipe. I have not made it yet. The risk is too high.We ate sandwiches for dinner in lieu of the pasta and meatballs we'd planned on making. The humidity lightly steamed the bread and it stuck to the roofs of our mouths, plastered with cold sesame noodles and buffalo chicken salad as sides. The homemade oatmeal cookie whoopie pie, a larger, softer denizen of the snack cake genre, topped off the night. And who says humid evenings aren't fun?If you're not in town and can't get your hands on one of these, I have a special review in the next few days if you've got a hankering for roast beef...

Euforia Thousand Layer Spice Cakes

It's no secret that I'm addicted to strange products. Weird flavors of chocolate or the latest frozen pizza flavor of the month has me salivating and panting at the freezer door. But sometimes a product comes along and is so striking in its simplicity and minimal presentation that I am forced to revisit my perspective on foods and whether there is a time and a place for exoticism or whether it is to be generously doled out.
While I'd love to say that the thousand layer cakes by Euforia could be more appetizing with a light dusting of cocoa-chipotle powder, a bacon and salsa verde infusion, or a slather of cream cheese and red wine frosting, the unadulterated truth is that they are phenomenal and perfect just the way they are. These are cakes that are beautiful on the inside. But unlike the fallacies your mother told you as a child, you zaftig beast, this is one hundred percent true and accurate.
The layers of the cakes meld into one smooth, textured bite, each mouthful buttery yet light, tasting of a pound cake with nicer ingredients. There's a subtle nutmeg, cinnamon, and brown sugar flavor, but no one spice came out ahead of the others and blended together wonderfully. The cakes are extremely moist, and the flavor is the most familiar taste you've never had. I say this because each bite is never alien in form, but somehow better than the snack cakes and commercial baked goods I certainly grew up with as a child. There's a delicacy to these that is clearly carefully crafted.
God, flavors like this just drive me bananas. Every time I think something I have is good enough, something better comes along. Knowing that these exist in the world, with their six ingredients and petite, soft forms, will forever drive me from the lands of snack cakes and zanily frosted cookies. With cakes like these, less is more, ingredient wise. The only time that doesn't apply will be when you're eating them by the boxful.

Brunch at Gypsy Apple

Keepitcoming Love and I decided to take a jaunt through Shelburne Falls today and grab some lunch and some sun in the nice weather. While the Bridge of Flowers was ever lovely and the falls were spectacular, we lamented the fact that our favorite restaurant, Gypsy Apple, didn't serve lunch. Luckily, the gods (or restaurateurs) must have felt the need to answer our prayers, because when we walked by to peek at their summer menu, lo and behold, they were open! And to top it off, they were test running their first brunch in three years.

Of course, we had to go. From that point on, the hardest part of our day was choosing what to get. Would we try Chef Michael's homemade hash with poached eggs? Or go for the sweeter side of brunch with waffles? We decided on two of the more eclectic offerings, an omelet with ricotta and tomato with sausage, homefries, and toast for Keepitcoming, and huevos rancheros with homefries for me. To celebrate our pleasant surprise, we ordered pomegranate and orange mimosas.As usual, this is going to be less of a review than an absolute food porn bacchanal, because at this point, everything this restaurant puts out is the epitome of perfection. Like Bread Euphoria, incidentally, one of their suppliers, neither one of us has ever had a bad meal there. With the huevos rancheros, I got a unique view at how painstakingly Michaelangelo prepares even the simplest and rustic of breakfast foods. All the elements of the dish shone vibrantly throughout each spoonful. The dish was masterfully composed, starting with a layer of homefries with a little sauce. On top of that was a freshly fried tortilla shell with cheese, beans, and poached eggs on top with another healthy ladleful of sauce, sour cream, and scallions. It was just sublime. The sauce wasn't spicy and integrated beautifully with each element, giving every bite a smoky, zesty flavor and seeping into the crannies and pores of the potatoes and tortilla. I could have eaten an entire plate (or two) of just the sauce and potatoes alone.Everything had some sort of surprise beauty to it that really brought out its natural flavors. The beans were flavored with lime zest or lime juice which made them creamy and vibrant. The eggs and the cheese melted together, which gave me gooey strands of cheese and yolk with every spoonful, and the potatoes were crispy and held up to a dousing of sauce. I ate all of mine and some of Keepitcoming's, too, and these were some generous portions. When I was done, I knew my stomach was at its full capacity and yet I just wanted more. I felt so utterly satisfied with that meal.
Keepitcoming's dish was also prepared artfully. She had the same homefries as I did, soft on the inside and loaded with spices, but her omelette came with two other surprises- juicy, crispy sausages (one half of which I promptly snagged) and crispy toast which we later learned was from Bread Euphoria! The real star of this dish was the ricotta. Whisked away from Goat Rising, it could have easily stood on its own and was creamy and delicate in contrast to the juiciness of the tomatoes. Another phenomenal, yet simple dish.

I was so pleased to come here on an already perfect day and experience the Michael Wescott and Ami Aubin brunch experience. It really made my thoughts wonder to what else they have created outside the realm of their seasonal menus. Personally, I'm dying to see his take on a burger and fries or steak frites, because I'm sure they would be stellar. For now, though, we'll keep you posted on our anniversary dinner when we return to this gorgeous little place.

Sausage, Egg and Cheese McGriddle

Come on.

How could I not end normal bloggery on an awesome note? The second to last post before Healthy Month starts. I realized something a little disturbing when I decided to feature this sandwich. I've extolled its virtues. I've bonded over it. While I can't say I'm the Don Gorske of my generation, I'd be honored to be known as the unofficial enthusiastic spokesperson for this sandwich. The reason is simple- for as many exotic and fine foods as I have consumed, as many expensive and gourmet dishes gone down my gullet, the McGriddle remains firm on my list of the best foods I have ever eaten.
Go ahead and laugh. But then tell me this. Have you ever seen anything like it? Combining sweet and savory breakfast foods seems ingenious, even a little silly. Of course people have thought of it before. It has been often imitated- Jimmy D's francophone carbohydrate based Griddlers, a monstrosity that sounds like an end bin Batman villain, Dunkin' Donuts Waffle Breakfast Sandwich- but never duplicated. All have fallen in the wake of the Grid. Less a hastily combined melange of breakfast foods than a carefully proportioned chemistry set, Keepitcoming took a bite (three bites) and immediately picked up on how engineered the whole thing seemed.
And engineered it is, with its petri-dish compact form. The concept of fork-free brunchery seems to have an air of mad science lab about it, but damn, is it good. While one can argue that, in your pact with Ronald, you sell your soul and greaseless fingers for a sandwich with built-in syrup, but it is a very fair trade. I love it because it's almost retardedly simple, yet perfectly executed in an unnatural way. Tell me of another fast food item that goes well with a finger of 10 year old Laphroaig. The egg sheet crumbles like no egg should ever crumble, and the sausage is glisteningly greasy and spicy. The cheese binds it all together with a gooey, creamy saltiness, and the pancakes deliver an outer crunch and a doughy midsection (in more ways than one) with a sweet syrupy flavor that is surprisingly understated. The only way to experience this with any more enjoyment is to slip a hash brown into the sandwich, giving you a little more grease, a little more crunch, and fleeting moments of enjoyment that quickly segue into delicious, delicious guilt.Is it absurdly indulgent? Yes. Is it as bad as most breakfasts in a three dollar, fast food range? It's really not. For an adult eating 2,000 calories a day, eating a 400-500 calorie breakfast is not the end of the world. Compare that to the Dunkin' Donuts Maple Breakfast Sandwich, with 720 calories, and the Hardee's Loaded Breakfast Burrito at 780 calories and the McGriddle seems like a petty offense. Even the "sit down" equivalent to this, the Big Deluxe Breakfast, packs as much calories as two and a half of these. Haters can hate all they want, but this baby is here to stay. In my belly.

Kika's Treats Dark Chocolate Brazilian Honey Cakes

Whenever I'm reminded of anything reminiscent of elementary school, my thoughts inevitably turn to school lunches and the intense bartering inside "the system." Man, there were more transactions in one table of Tisko Elementary than on Wall Street. Doritos flew and pretzels and raisins went untouched for the most part, but the real stars of lunchtime were the snack cakes. If you were that one lucky kid whose mom bought Little Debbie or Hostess, you had an entire cadre of food or even money at your disposal. Kids fought with their bare hands for snack cakes.These days I like to think I'm above strangling someone for an Oatmeal Creme Pie. After all, I'm not in prison, and somehow the novelty of eating a snack cake dissipated once I discovered that they were sold in packs of twelve for three bucks and that they were, for the most part, pretty commonplace. I haven't had one in ages due to my nearly unlimited supply of better, cheap as free foods, one of those being Kika's Treats. First Tracks alerted me to these and picked up a few packs, noting that they won the award of best cookies in SF Weekly in 2009 and gave them to me to test out.Brazilian honey cake, or pão de mel, is a confection I don't have much experience with, but after doing a little preliminary research, is similar in texture to a lebkuchen and is generally eaten for breakfast or as a snack due to its dense structure and restrained sweetness. Cover it in chocolate and you've got an instant hit. In this case, it brought me right back to my childhood, but with better snacks! Eating these is like eating a snack cake for an upscale adult audience. It's fluffy with a good structure, so it isn't prone to falling apart. The cake to chocolate ratio is perfect. The cake is flavored with a heady, aromatic mix of spices, the clove and cinnamon persistent without being overwhelming. The honey also brings a comforting richness to the cake. It brings back nostalgia with none of the hydrogenated guilt that comes with the Hostess territory. Keepitcoming and I were so smitten with these that we talked about them for most of yesterday afternoon and well into today. They were perfect representations of a better take on an old classic.

LimeRed Teahouse, Amherst, MA

Drop your Subway sandwich.

Toss the rest of that leftover Antonio's pizza.

Hell, cancel your reservations at Chez Albert. There's a new sheriff in town and they mean business.

LimeRed started out as a website. Then, as a band. And an email address. But now they've settled here in Amherst, occupying the old Newberry Comics location, and we hope they'll never leave. As an eclectic hangout and a cozy place to eat, LimeRed succeeds on all counts.

The restaurant focuses on building a collection of teas with endless combinations and add-ins. Bumping out Crazy Noodles for boba diversity, they keep coming up with tricks to stimulate and intrigue the palate. I ordered a mango milk tea, seemingly pedestrian, with something strange- popping jelly. I'd never heard of it before, but they make it in house daily. It's a cross between caviar and boba, definitely the best of both worlds. A thin tapioca skin covers a flavored liquid innard in little balls, then inserted into the tea like boba. If I'm not mistaken, this is classic fruit caviar, a molecular gastronomy technique. And used like this, it's sublime.I asked for mango-flavored jelly, hoping that the flavor wouldn't get lost within the milkiness of the drink. I was wrong. Instead, a delightful duet played out in my mouth- a duet of tangy and tart from the jelly and creamy-sweet from the tea. The beverage was so tempting that I kept looking at it hungrily before our food arrived, glad I had the discipline to not suck it all down in one gulp. (TWSS) The jelly was a little sour, but in a citrusy, delicious way. Think of something less like a Warhead and more like a tart, fresh fruit. Coupled with the floral notes in the tea, it was exquisite.

My dining partner, Stevie Wonder, went for the taro boba tea. One of my pet peeves when describing foods is using another food, generally an American one, to describe it as I feel like it undermines the integrity of the unique ingredient. However, I can say with confidence and without remorse that this tasted like a liquified PB&J. My experience with taro root is limited to mochi and other candies, and it's been achingly sweet and bland with a red bean like flavor, but this drink was nutty, fruity, and very creamy. The boba filled the bottom and came up through our straws when we took sips. The flavor database is consistently fluctuating- I wish I'd known about the avocado boba when I'd arrived!LimeRed has an ever-expanding menu of dumplings and buns, not yet made in house but shipped in from New York for now. We whacked up an order of chicken and lemongrass dumplings, pork buns, and red bean buns for dessert. In the back of my head, I was worried that it wouldn't be enough food- all of the entrees were under $5 apiece. But when those steamers arrived, all thoughts went out the window. All I could see and smell were those fluffy, white steamed buns.We tore into the pork buns. I came up for air after my second and wondered, briefly, if it was possible to hook up a pork bun intravenously. There was something magical about these. Perhaps it's my isolation from good buns in the Pioneer Valley or simply my lack of experience, but I haven't had buns like these since my dim sum adventures in San Francisco. With fluffystickysteamysoft interiors and a chewy, crispy filling, these hit all of my senses at once. With a brick. It was a dizzyingly perfect composition of flavors and textures, with a perfect base to roll them in.After recovering from instantaneous depression from eating all the buns, we tucked into the dumplings. Owner Joe Deng, a sharply dressed entrepreneur radiating enthusiasm, reminded us
that because these were artisanal dumplings, they were already seasoned on their own. They did offer soy sauce and sriracha on the side, but chose not to serve them on the plate so as not to mar the authenticity of the dish. I trusted him and it paid off- the lemongrass, rarely making more of an appearance in dishes than an exotic word on a menu, was the star. It was bittersweet and tart, exemplified by the saltiness of the chicken and scallions, with definite hints of lime zest. And yet, it was all balanced. No singular ingredient outshone another and it all wrapped up nicely with the citrus at the end.Savory plates aside, we finished up with three red bean buns. While I didn't see the same pinpointed execution on these, they were rustic and flavorful, whole beans studding the interior for an extra handmade touch. The dough is just intoxicating, like the softest, moistest white bread, but made far better with the glutenous bean filling. It's my own lack of exposure talking, but god, I love those buns. They made a savory and sweet neutral dessert to munch on as we were finishing our tea. If they ever made a peanut butter bun, I'd get it for sure.As we were eating, we occasionally encountered Joe Deng. Deng has a unique and practiced way of service- it was timed precisely to give us time to digest, chat, ponder our order, and relax, but was not so slow as to seem negligent. He came to our table throughout the meal, asking questions and answering them in return. It was a relaxed, comforting atmosphere and I left feeling happy and sunny, glad that I had taken a chance on this new establishment. So, patrons- if Starbucks is getting stale, head on over. And LimeRed, please forgo any plans for beginning a career in racecars, used books, or pet stores, because as a teahouse, you don't need to change a thing.