Chuao Sweetheart Box and a Giveaway!

Yes, Valentine's Day is coming. And yes, I'm plenty aware that some of you hate it and that some of you love it. Whether you're single or attached, bubbly or bitter, nothing beats the fact that chocolate is everywhere. Before you flip the bird at the Russell Stover samplers or kick the display of bloated teddy bears onto the ground, the Chuao Sweetheart selection should cheer you up. And there's also the possibility of a trip to San Diego and a $50 gift card to Chuao's store. So buck up and play along, and you could be stuffing your face with popping chocolate and potato chip chocolate bars in no time. How do you win? The San Diego deets are on Chuao's Facebook page. If you click through on my link to the right from now 'till February 14th and check out the information, you'll automatically be entered in the running to win the contest. If we get enough clicks through the banner, Chuao will give me a $50 gift card to giveaway to one lucky reader. How's that for awesome? It's blogger-driven, so only bloggers whose readers participate will be entered to win!
To give you a little taste of the goodies to come, Chuao sent over two truffles exclusive to their newly debuted Sweetheart Box, filled to the brim with aphrodisiac-inspired truffles to delight your sweetheart on Valentine's Day. The first truffle, the Love Child bonbon, was squat and petite, filled with a port-drenched dried strawberry hunk in a chocolate ganache. It had an incredibly creamy, milky texture, with a sour tang almost like balsamic vinegar infusing the strawberry. The port influences seemed to come more from the ganache, a delicate, fluffy core with a silkiness similar to cheesecake, and the entire thing was perfectly poppable and not too sweet.
The next truffle, the Firecracker bonbon, was easily one of the tastiest chocolates I've sampled from Chuao. Incorporating all of their funkier elements, like chipotle caramel and popping candy in a ganache with a touch of sea salt, the only thing that could have made this more orgasmic would have been the inclusion of potato chips. Oh, and maybe about fifty more of these. With a crispy texture like a brittle piece of feuillitine and an intense smokiness, its delicate exterior completely belied its inner contents. The caramel was luxurious, the sea salt tangy. I'm honestly inclined to order a box of these and these alone for myself.
If you're too impatient to wait for the contest to end, you can order your own Sweetheart Box here. In the meantime, I'll keep you updated with Twitter- keep those votes coming!

Sahale Snacks Ksar Pistachio Nut Blend

Today's review was brought to you by an intriguing comment by a cowardly reader. Recently, it was brought to my attention that my reviews were pretentious and favored expensive, low quality foods over cheap, high-quality condiments that I'm clearly missing out on loving to death. Yup, I'm just out to squash the little guy under my leather Charles Jourdain pumps. I had no idea I was Satan and Big Oil and Pacific Gas & Electric, but that's why the website is called Commenter Reviews, right? All these things make me think a lot of feelings about myself.
Of course, the last time I checked, it wasn't, and that's why I'd like to highlight one of my favorite products to prove you wrong. Have you met my friend Honey Badger? Sahale Snacks is easily one of my favorite snack companies because it takes boring base ingredients (nuts) and gives them thirty pieces of flair (spices, herbs, fruit, and other nuts) to keep them exciting and awesome. Sahale's blends are some of the most original I've come across. I mean, how often does your government-issued campfire trail mix come with lavender, orange zest, or lemongrass? Tonight's offering was indeed found at our local discount grocery store, and I did love it.
The Ksar nut blend features a base of pistachios accented with sesame seeds, pepitas, fig, and harissa. Definitely sounds more like something you'd find orbiting a sphere of pork butt or pumpkin rind at Alinea, no? But this stuff is available to the masses without a crazy reservation for the mere price of $2 and change. Not bad at all. In yet another delightfully self-promotional twist, I'm going to go as far as to liken this to my own website. Perhaps in individual elements, it's not perfect. Your eyes may hurt from my cheap orange and turquoise color scheme or you might not like how chewy the fig balls are in the Ksar blend. You might find my prose trite and the pepitas too spicy, or my photos crappy and the sesame seeds invisible. But quite honestly, if you open wide and take the whole thing in, you'll find that it's awesome. It's a little whacky, and it's definitely not for everyone, but it's delightful to behold and will satisfy you long into the night. Just like that, baby, just like that.
This mix has a charming versatility to it that makes me want to cancel any dinner plans I have on any given day and experiment with this- with grinding the nuts and coating chicken breasts with them, or mixing them into a stew or shredded taco meat. Maybe even blending them with a little oil to create a savory, spicy nut butter? There's just so much to this flavor profile that aches for customization to an individual dish. Not that it's not excellent to eat on its own. The harissa really comes out when paired with the earthy pepita seeds. For whatever reason, this heat is strongest on them, possible from their higher concentration of oil and toasted flavor. The figs added a much needed jamminess to the whole mix to counterbalance the buttery, savory indulgence from the nuts. All in all, pretty darn perfect. And only a few dollars for a quality product. See? Just get to know me. Perhaps you'll find that my elitism isn't as bad as you may think. Or maybe you won't. I guess the truth is that I don't really give a Ksar.

Meltykiss Green Tea Chocolate

Waiting for Christmas Eve festivities to start is a bit like waiting around at the intermission of a middle school play. For the sake of keeping it seasonal, let's call it your nephew's musical version of a Nativity pageant. There's not a whole lot to do, but you're in a familiar place with the knowledge that when things do start, they're either going to be pretty awesome or god-awful. We always do a pretty low-key, but festive Christmas eve with tons of food and champers for all. This year, I'm contributing a few strange snacks of my own, not the least of which is a zesty Japanese offering, Meltykiss's 2011 limited winter release of green tea chocolate.
Meltykiss is green but is by no means environmentally friendly. If it was a Captain Planet eco-villain, it would be surely be the EnviroStrangler or something. There's more padding on this than there is on Martin Lawrence in any of the Big Momma films. However, it's all worth it, as each little chocolatey cube is perfectly formed with no scuffs or breakage. If you've had the classic Moritz Ice Cube candy, you can imagine what a Meltykiss tastes like. Roughly the size of a die, it has that chunky yet beguiling texture of vegetable oil and chocolate, with a low melting point that causes it to disintegrate as it hits the mouth. The center, for whatever reason, melts a little slower, with a smooth, chewy bite similar to eating a piece of gianduja or a slightly melted chocolate bar.
These have a cool texture on the tongue with a slightly bittersweet initial note from the light dusting of cocoa powder on top. The chocolate base coating is milky and sweet, more of a milk chocolate flavor despite looking fairly dark, but the center is perfection. With the fluffy texture of chilled buttercream frosting, the chartreuse center is a beautifully contrasting treat to behold.
The center contrasts the sweet chocolate with a bitter, strongly steeped green tea flavor, floral and perfumed, with a delicate sweet matcha flavor that permeates the outer and inner layers. It's very strong, which makes it the perfect gift for tea aficionados as it's not too sweet or diluted to impress. Perfect stocking stuffers and present toppers. Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!

Hotel Chocolat Chili and Orange/Hazelnut and Ginger Yule Logs

Will the litany of classy international holiday offerings never end? Hell no! You can take your holiday-colored Oreos an' shove 'em- I have connections in foreign places. Today's selection comes from the wonderful Cinabar of Foodstuff Finds once more, my official hookup for the tantalizing UK artisanal brand Hotel Chocolat and more. This is a pair of treats from their holiday selection- adorable Yule logs in chili and orange and ginger and hazelnut.
If you haven't heard of a Yule log, it's a hard, dense log to burn during Christmas time. The desserts, if you've ever had a Buche de Noel, are fashioned after the logs themselves and eaten. These Yule logs look fairly branchy and tree-like, which the chocolate helps with, but more in a minimalist, Charles Eames-inspired kindling for a couture fireplace fashion. The edges are smooth and domed and studded with chunks of each key ingredient according to the bar. Both bars are made out of gianduja praline and have very short, concise ingredient lists- no more than seven or eight components make up the bars.
The gianduja base is fantastic. The bars are protected in their own molds, and you can clearly see where the chocolate was poured in, sometimes to the point of nearly overflowing! While it was difficult to get the bars out of their molds without marring the delicate surface, the end result was beautiful. As you can see, the chocolate is very smooth and soft. Mine didn't escape without a few fingerprints! The toppings were set like jewels on top of the bars rather than being mixed into the chocolate.
On its own, the gianduja is cool and subtle, with a slow melt and pliable, fudgey chew and a bittersweet woodiness that was amplified in the ginger and hazelnut bar with the inclusion of lightly toasted, crispy hazelnuts. The crystallized pieces of ginger, which had a wonderful crunchy, jelly-like texture unto their own, added a spicy element to the bar. My only complaint was that the beautiful visual presentation, which alternated the ingredients to create a striped pattern down the length of the bar, allowed few bites to include both hazelnuts and ginger. With the complexity of the two toppings, it was quite a shame to not have that option when eating a bite.
The chili and orange bar was no less phenomenal. This bar also had nuts, sugared whole almonds. While there were no candied chili pieces with the candied orange peel on top, there was a persistent spiciness to the bar along with the pomander flavors in the candied peel- cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg that made for a delicious eating experience. This bar didn't quite suffer from the same inconsistency in between bites as the other, but was a little messier to cut as the almonds were placed horizontally and cut somewhat irregularly. The spices in this were perfect, though. An easy and indulgent holiday treat.

Phillips Candy House Chocolate Turtle Basket

I'm picky about my holiday food. I get paralyzed with fear when the selection is too vast and usually end up mindlessly gnawing at brie rinds. So I've narrowed my priorities down to a helpful acronym for all you viewers at home. It's easy to prioritize awesome foods this holiday season with ABCDEFGHI- Appetizers, Balls (Or Food in Ball Form, nyuck nyuck), Cookies, Deny All Canned Food, Eggnog, Fried Stuff (Namely, Latkes), Gooey Dip, Holiday punch, and iPods Playing Alvin and the Chipmunks. All things you should cram into your mouth. Not included on this list are festering hunks of meat, stale supermarket rolls, anything with powdered sugar, and bowls of salted nuts.
Have you ever eaten and enjoyed a Brazil nut? No? Because they taste like pee? Yeah, that's what I thought. Brazil nuts are the leftover skulls and amputated body parts in a pirate's treasure chest of gold 'n' spoils. They're miserable and terrible and have been fondled and rejected more times than a sweater on craigslist throughout the course of an evening, and as a result of one too many tainted handfuls around holiday time, salted nuts are off the list.
I have hope, though. After eating my way through a few of these delicious turtles from Phillips Candy House, nut-based products may make it back on the holiday A-list this year. This chocolate turtle basket was whisked across the state and made its way into my hot little hands courtesy of elves at Phillips. This is an entire chocolate basket filled with dark and milk chocolate turtles. The standard order contains milk, dark, and white chocolate turtles, but I got hooked up with salted, yeeeeaahhhhh sooooon. Yes, the basket is chocolate. Solid, drippy detailed chocolate that begs to be gnawed on like a cartoon chicken wing- a one-handed, slobbery affair.
Turtles are one of those Christmas desserts that inevitably fall to the wayside, collecting powdered sugar dust along with Mexican wedding cakes and fudge of questionable origin in the shadows of homemade pies, cupcakes, and glorious Bûches de Noël. Not these, though. The milk chocolate turtles taste like the Snickers' acerbic older sister (the one majoring in philosophy) with the kick of salt backing up the sweet, smooth milk chocolate. The dark chocolate ones were tasty with the salt but would have been delicious without them as well, with a deep, rich flavor, more powerful than the milk. The milk chocolate was definitely the more balanced of the two. What really hooked me were the nuts in these. Traditional turtles are made with pecans only, but these incorporate a bridge mix ambiance into each piece, using a mixture of pecans, cashews, and salted almonds. Hot toddy, these are good. With the salt on top and the salty nuts, they provide an excellent counterbalance to the sweeter elements.
I preferred the milk chocolates to the dark only because I found that they were a little more harmonious with the other components in the candy. They amplified the burnt sugar flavors in the caramel and accentuated the individual flavors of the nuts, especially the maple-kissed pecans, where the dark chocolate stole the show and left the others behind. Not to say they weren't delicious, of course. My definition of second place is eating three instead of four. I liked these quite a lot. For $42, you get a huge amount of high-end, smooth chocolate and a pound of turtles- approximately twenty oozing, delicious creatures. The basket weighs about three pounds on its own, so you're getting the whole shebang for about ten bucks a pound. Not bad for the presentation and goods. I imagine this would be a real hit at a holiday party, especially with the edible basket to nibble on with coffee once the turtle supply has been decimated. For the sophisticated terrapin enthusiast.

Trader Joe's Lemon and Triple Ginger Snap Ice Cream

Trader Joe's and I are in the honeymoon phase of consumer relations. Every time I go I'm enamored by 90% of their new products, be they things I'd actually use, like chicken sausages, or things I don't need or will never need, like gingerbread dog treats. Comparatively, every time I enter a Marshall's, my previous score for weird, fancy products, God kills a kitten and I start frowning loudly. While it's undoubtedly not in my best interest to buy my weight in salted caramel cookies or chocolate truffle brownies, this ice cream seemed too good to leave on the shelf. I'm generally not a huge fan of ice cream, so for a frozen confection to leave this big of an impression on me was a fairly big deal. And I totally dig the retro Trader Vic's style font. The funny thing was, this was hardly a random sighting at the store. I'd seen a very positive review of this ice cream over the summer on What's Good at TJ's? and was hell-bent on finding some for my own consumption.

I like stepping outside of my comfort zone, even if it seems like a small step sometimes. Lemon and ginger, while tasty, just don't stroke my tastebuds in the same way that chocolate and peanut butter do, or salt, or caramel, but this practically blew most of those thoughts out of the water. It's difficult to find lemon-flavored confections with a dairy base- that is, non-sorbet or Italian ice versions of frozen treats. I have no idea why more companies aren't honing in on this, because lemon ice cream is damned good. Think of a pudding-like, velvety texture cut by the slight tartness of lemon with a candied fruitiness and you're scratching the surface of eating this ice cream.
But of course, I'd have never bought it if it was just plain old lemon. Its ambrosial scents were amplified with the addition of what Trader Joe's called triple ginger, an element that's more than just a totally badass name. The cookie mix-ins in this are lifted directly from Trader Joe's Triple Ginger Cookies, which contain powdered, crystallized, and fresh ginger, and the quart says that each container has no less than fifteen cookies inside. A bold claim, harkening back to the BS of Chips Ahoy! claiming that there were 1,000 chips in each package of cookies. 1,000 chips, my ass. Someone missed out on a killer class action lawsuit there.
Honestly, though, the Trader Joe's claim? I believe it. In almost every bite there are quarter-sized chunks of soft cookies, and at the very least, each bite has an underlying crumbly sediment from the cookie crumbs. In a few rare, beautiful bites, we unearthed preserved cookies that were nearly whole. Ben and Jerry's, take heed. This is how you do mix-ins.
One out of two Asian cat breeds approves of this ice cream.
The flavor of the cookies mingles nicely with the ice cream, as it brings a slightly spicy, comforting thickness to the soft and airy base with strong molasses and clove influences. I don't really get the heat from the crystallized ginger, but it's definitely there in the crunch and somewhat dry denseness of the cookies. Of course, no Asian-inspired ice cream is complete without a little experimentation. Sriracha? Yes, please. The certified condiment choice of hipsters and the homeless doesn't quite work with this, but the heat was all I needed to convince me that this ice cream was freaking incredible. For two non-fruit lovers indifferent to ice cream, we've had this for a day and have eaten half the quart already. Now we're going to go have a pillow fight and play Bloody Mary with our pants off. YOU JELLY.

wd~50, New York, NY

My absence for the last few days hasn't so much been a byproduct of business as it's been a complete suspension of my personal gustatory reality. This week, I ate vegetarian sandwiches that tasted like meat, drank wines with the aromas of flowers, barnyards, and musk, and willingly downed not one, but nearly two large portions of tender, chewy woodear mushrooms, my own personal Kryptonite, in ecstasy and without any pretense of betting. This last fact alone proves that Chef Wylie Dufresne of wd~50 isn't so much mad scientist, as diners have noted, so much as he is a benevolent wizard of cuisine. But I'll get back to that.

This has been on my bucket list for a while. When Miss Love offered to treat me to dinner, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. As we drove to the restaurant, situated on Clinton street across a check cashing kiosk and Mexican grocery store, I was kind of wondering if I'd be hitting the end of that bucket list sooner than I thought. wd~50 looks completely different on the inside, and from the throngs of well-dressed people and scarily attractive clientele milling around the restaurant, it's clear that the restaurant has many admirers despite its location. On a balmy evening, we started off our night with a few cocktails.

We ordered two specialty cocktails from their list- a wd~50 classic, the Green Hornet, with celery gin and tonic, and a seasonal selection, the aptly named ¿Qué Pasa, Calabaza? with tequila, squash, yuzu, and black salt. The Green Hornet was an excellent interpretation on an old standard. Drinking it becomes apparent that this is not the place where sticking a stalk of celery in a G 'n' T passes for a quality libation. It infuses all the sweet brininess of a celery stick into a drink with none of the pesky starchy xylem, working impeccably with the spices in the gin.

The ¿Qué Pasa, Calabaza? was a perfect play off the weather outside, with a very Halloweeny black and orange color scheme and a light, fruity flavor and fragrant nose. The yuzu crept in at the end of each sip, its subtle influence rendering a citrusy zest without the tartness that a lemon would typically impart. The richness of the squash was beautiful with the naturally yogurty flavor of the tequila. If there was any one element I was somewhat on the fence about, it would have been the salt. While a little was welcomed, there was quite a bit on the rim of the drink. Consuming too much salt in one sip overpowered the more delicate flavors.

While drinking, we enjoyed a box of crisp sesame flatbread in lieu of a bread basket. These had a buttery flavor and delicate texture of the crunch of popcorn husks without the annoying tooth-sticking quality. They provided a good neutrality in between dishes.

Here at Foodette, we go big and go home sloshed, so we went for the full tasting menu with the wine pairings. We started off with an amuse bouche of fluke, black garlic paste, grapefruit, toasted squash seeds, and pomegranate zest. This was an excellent way to start the meal, with a light texture yet bold flavors with the tobacco-like sweetness of fall. The crunch from the squash seeds and silky garlic sauce offset the acidity of the grapefruit and gave depth to the mild fish.

This was paired with a sparkling sake from Yamagata, Japan, which our server explained was basically regular sake made with unpolished rice, made using the méthode champenoise with a light petillance and familiar sake neutrality. It allowed the flavors of the amuse bouche and second course to shine without clashing and was a great way to ease into the meal.

Our second course was the driving force behind my desire to come here, Dufresne's famous everything bagel ice cream with crispy cream cheese, fuzzy smoked salmon threads, and pickled onions. The presentation was stunning, from the matte sheen on the brittle shard of cream cheese to the airbrushed baking marks on the bagel and precisely placed sesame and poppy seeds. It was beautiful, if ephemeral, and had a sweet, bready quality and silky texture.

Next, we waited for our third course while enjoying our second wine, a 2008 Austrian "Trie" Triebaumer from Burgenland. It is worth noting that if you're friendly to your server, you'll leave with a slew of new facts about the fascinating library of wines wd~50 pairs, as well as a fairly generous pour with each new glass. This particular wine was a combination of unoaked Chardonnay, Yellow Muscat, and Muskat Ottonel, three wines that made me cringe inwardly in anticipation of the sugar shock that never came. For a trio of typically unctuous wines, this was a fairly restrained example, with a cloudy color and floral heavy, bone dry flavor that played nicely with the next course.

This was another curiosity, Wylie Dufresne's play on a falafel, taking the "fa" and replacing it with "foie" in a melty, buttery ball of joy nestled inside a thick, chewy pita bread. The foie-lafel consisted of foie gras balls rolled in chickpeas and sesame seeds, fried inside a pita with kimchi tahini and a tabouleh salad underneath. While absolutely delightful to hold and eat, the two unusual elements, kimchi and foie gras, were buried under the pungency of the Middle Eastern spices and showed only their most basic forms in a slight piquancy for the former and fatty, rich quality for the latter. A clever interpretation, and a delicious one, but one that unfortunately missed the mark as far as idiosyncrasy went.

Our next wine followed a similar suit with the 2009 Palmina "Subida" from the Saint Ynez Valley of California. This wine was created in a similar style to red wines from the same producer, and had a beautiful basil and nut flavor with a dusty nose and a yellow hue rivaled only by the luxurious center of our next course, Dufresne's interpretation of a Caesar Salad with a perfectly soft-boiled egg orbited by dried pumpernickel crisps, lily bulb, caesar dressing, and its own shell, recreated out of edible kaolin clay and brown butter. Flavor-wise, not the most outgoing, but the texture was seamlessly similar to an actual solid egg shell.

The udon dish completely turned my world upside down. Completely. Granted, I had my chance to pussy out at the start when the server asked about food allergies, but I decided that if I took my chances and ate mushrooms, it would be at the hands of one of America's most talented magicians of morsels, and I would go down like a champ. Turns out I didn't have to go anywhere. In a rare feat of bravery, this was so delicious that I ate all of mine and most of Keepitcoming's. At its simplest, this dish mimics the textures and flavors of crispy General Tso's chicken on a bed of chow mein. At its most daring, this was a melange of beautiful moist textures and sweet flavors. Surprisingly, mushrooms make pretty damned good noodles, sopping up the gingery sauce yet remaining firm. This was topped with soft morsels of crispy fried sweetbread. The only element that I felt could have been richer and more pervasive was the banana molasses, reduced to a mere glaze atop the sweetbread and lacking the smokiness I typically associate with the sauce.

We were absolutely smitten with the 2010 Gamay "Mon Cher" Noella Moratin. It had the gamey, rustic qualities of its varietal, with a persistent and strong lily nose, with floral top notes and a deep, bretty, almost human-like base scent, of barnyards and wet leather. It reminded us of vintage French perfumes with an old-fashioned set of scents and flavors. It added a svelte layer of grassy sweetness to the udon that the molasses lacked.

A tender, perfect piece of salmon was paired with a root beer oatmeal, sour cherry mash, and carrot. The oatmeal absorbed the snappier, minty essences of sassafras with a firm bite from the kernels and tasted fine against the mild flavor of the salmon, but both had very separate flavors and never really met in the middle. The cherry mash electrified the salmon and really boosted its natural sweetness better than the oatmeal. The carrot's flavor was nowhere to be found.

We drank a 2010 Pinot Noir from Wilson Daniels with this as well as our next course, though I must confess that at this stage, the generous pours were getting to me and if the wine wasn't off the charts exceptional and memorable, it didn't really stick in my head. This was one of the more generic selections of the pairing, with a mild licorice and cherry flavor and scent.

Our next savory course consisted of a tender filleted duck breast dotted with blobs of nasturtium yogurt, roasted turnips, and nutmeg. The nasturtium yogurt was the most unique part of the dish, with a thick, pasty texture and tang similar to hot Chinese mustard but no heat. On top of the duck and countered by the rooty turnips, it was delicious, if a little rich for us at that point.

The final savory course of the evening, (which, at that point, had passed the two and a half hour mark) was a riff off rice and beans with lamb and chayote squash. A very Southwestern vibe emitted from the spices on the "rice and beans," which were really soft, soaked pine nuts and a rice crisp. The lamb was cooked to perfection, but had a little too much fat left on. I liked the sweet, apple-like flavor the chayote lent to each bite. Cut in translucent strips, it curled around the fork, wrapping the fillings up like a nouveau American sushi roll.

We transitioned to the dessert portion of the menu with a strange little palate cleanser of candied egg yolk, brown buttermilk ice cream, jackfruit, and crushed hazelnut pieces. The dish toed the line delicately between savory and neutral, with a hint of sweetness and rush of acidity from the jackfruit. The egg yolk and jackfruit were both bright yellow in hue and the yolk had a milky, creamy flavor but was difficult to discern in each bite. The crunch of the toasted hazelnuts gave a good structural depth to the otherwise dairy-heavy dessert.

And then, we were in full-throttle sugar mode. It was awesome. The apricot, buckwheat, quince, and green tea dessert lent a range of flavors to the plate, at first resembling a set of components not unlike certain Rieslings, but with more colorful flair and less balance on the whole. The apricot pudding had an excellent texture, but its tartness mirrored that of the quince and pushed the subtle salinity of buckwheat to the back burner. The green tea powder was piled and squiggled in a way that made each bite somewhat inconsistent. Some had a mere whiff of bitterness, some, overly chalky as a result of too much powder.

Our wine with that was a beautiful Vermont ice cider, a "Honeycrisp" from Champlain Orchards. It was beautiful and smooth, with a honeyed, brown sugar flavor and ripeness of a baked apple.

We followed that wine with our final dessert and dessert wine, a Californian NV Port, the "Lot Number Three" Marietta. This was a beautiful and lush selection with a chocolatey, sundried flavor that reminded me of liquified Raisinettes. I drank both our ports with our final dessert.

This last dessert was another Dufresne favorite, the beet, ricotta, chocolate, and long pepper Pollack-inspired edible painting. I could have eaten the ricotta ice cream by the gallon, it was so tangy and delicious, with a flavor similar to, but wholly different than yogurt and cheese. It definitely had the silky, salty bite of ricotta. The beets imparted less of a flavoral difference than I expected, but accentuated the saltiness of the ice cream and provided a gorgeous color palate. For me, the chocolate was the highlight of the dish, with a fluid, semisolid texture and elastic smoothness in the mouth. A perfect way to finish the meal.

With our check came balls of ice cream coated in Rice Krispies and fried balls of a lemony rice pudding. Poppable and sweet, they helped soak up a good deal of booze for the ride back.

I got the sense that wd~50 didn't rest all its deconstructed eggs in one basket. Their food was delicious, and their service was impeccable. Each element of the meal felt like it was executed and timed well. Considering that the meal lasted for a little around three and a half hours, it never felt like it was dragging or like we were forgotten. While I can't say that the meal was perfect- a few of the dishes did feel like they were presented for shock value with less regard for flavor than expected, it was certainly memorable and beautiful. I'll definitely be coming back to check out the dessert tasting and to try a few more of those cocktails.