Minor Gourmandry

Upon Returning: Marigold Part II

To celebrate the end of a semester apart, my parents and younger brother accompanied me to Marigold Kitchen, a restaurant I’d clamored about since my first visit a year back. We arrived on a Thursday, with a reservation for 6:30; the dining room emanated a demure hum. Barely audible music wafted above homey tables lit by a simple blue (Ikea?) candle.

Minutes after settling in with a glass of Pellegrino, our server arrived with an amuse bouche: a spoonful of crusted and baked goat cheese with two pomegranate arils (the individual seed-containers of the fruit). The spoonful was a perfect pair, first mildly sweet then goaty (nothing like baked brie). I sat back with smug anticipation – Marigold was going to win over the credit card holders parents. 

After what seemed like 20 minutes of menu deliberations – I was charged with menu interpretation, though even Uni custard was new to my ears – we ordered and readied for what proved to be an incessant wait. Service was a tad off all night. Later, despite our shooting hands and nodding heads, a trio of waiters attempted to whisk away with my mother’s last sliver of cake. The final waiter was successful, but moments later he returned the plate bashfully. If nothing else, the excusable slips provided conversation during the down-time.

First to arrive was my appetizer, consisting of two crostini: a Seared Foie Gras and a Duck Rilette. Each was placed over a crispy pumpernickel biscuit (full molasses flavor) and a stewed apple slice. The crispy crunch of the bottom disc provided the pillowy and salty Foie Gras with texture contrast and an equally puissant flavor. The three nibbles of Seared Foie Gras toast were the highlights of the night. The duck rilette, a scoop of stripped and pulverized mallard that looked like a spread, was also a sheer delight, especially when combined with the thin molasses cracker and dipped in the thin honey streak running alongside the plate. My brother enjoyed, or at least was intrigued by, the Taylor Bay Scallops: three tiny shells held thin coins of scallop resting above an Uni custard and topped with black trumpet mushroom strips.

After a belly-readying break, four entrees were laid down at each respective tablemat. In a lapse of dining acumen (due, of course, to the gourmet abeyance known as college food), I chose the Seared Scallop dish with Oxtail Tagine and root vegetables. The scallops were cooked exactly the same as the foie gras, and the texture of the two meats was nearly equivalent on my tongue. (And, call me crazy, but most scallop entrees taste the same everywhere.) The dish held none of the flair expected from a Marigold selection. I expected the oxtail might be the star accoutrement, but the strips of pork-tasting-tail felt misplaced on the plate – strewn between the scallops. The couscous studded with diced root veggies was a tasty if uninteresting preparation to side the seared scallops. All said, I enjoyed the dish ruefully. 

My brother’s $30 Strip Steak (entrees from 24-30 this season) looked like a better selection, with a colorful smear of sweet potato and a wedge of creamy and crisp pommes au gratin – a beautifully conceived version of a wintry selection. Another fall/winter tease was the Squab Breast and Squab Ravioli, sided with a Chestnut puree and Rose-petal jus.

Dessert was a “yes” all around, because, save for my two courses, none of the plates were belly-busters. While the fruit’s season has passed, seeing the word “pear” and “fritter” in the same sentence intrigued me enough to opt for the dessert: Fennel-poached Pear and Pear Fritter, with Sage Ice Cream. The poached pear was a tad soggy, and overpowered by fennel, but it was still pleasurable to eat the peeled pear in its entirety (any core nuisances had been removed). The warm pear fritter was the size of a golf ball, and contained an aromatic grind of sugar and pear and spice. The sage ice cream rivaled any gasp-worthy herb simulation at Capogiro. Another dessert, the Warm Chocolate Cake, was more akin to a fallen-soufflé than a cake. Layer cake or not, the rich truffle center made the cupped-palm-sized dessert just enough to satisfy. For some contrast, a Black Walnut Tuile arrived on the plate, wedged in between the cake and Sesame Ice Cream. All five dessert selections (not including a $9/15 cheeseplate) appeared to have the same theme: concentrated flavors in tiny packages. Not too exorbitant or sweet, the desserts are meant to complement the meal before it. 

Though I left Marigold without the mouth-altering experience I’d hoped for, the meal was wholly satisfying. Every plate combined unique and familiar preparations with seasonal flavors, mostly to laudable effect. The Foie Gras and Duck Rilette was perhaps the best appetizer I had all year, thanks to the unexpected but perfectly suitable sweetness underlying both preparations.

 Diners that caught on to Marigold early will note a recent price hike. Whereas no entrée was above $24 early in 2005, now, no entrée is less. The appetizers, too, average above $9. Sadly, Marigold’s national hype justifies the raise. While the restaurant is no longer a bargain – it’s on par with most high-end BYOBs – the food allows no room for complaints. My advice: expect the best from Marigold, and be disappointed if it doesn’t deliver. My less-than-perfect meal won’t lower my expectations for excellence.

Location: 501 S. 45th St. 
(reservations accepted: 215-222-3699)

A Change

After a period of introspection and deliberation, I've decided it's best to let my readers know that this blogger will be undergoing a substantial change. Instead of writing about food, I've decided to write about my pet cat and my substantial collection of stamps.

OK, that's just not true. I don't even have a pet cat. Actually, the big change has to do with location. Tommorrow I leave, laptop in tow, to my temporary home: a tiny dorm overlooking the hip little town of Ithaca, NY. 

What does this mean for Minor Gourmandry? 1) With less fodder comes less material, and with less material comes less posts. The day I start writing about dorm food...well it'll be one heck of a bad day. 2) Besides having less material to write about, I'll have less time (and money) to dedicate to being the Minor Gourmand. For that you can thank Cornell University.

Despite this change, I'll still retain my humble title. I will continue to fill out my photo albums (upper right), and by golly, if any great event of degustation ever occurs around Ithaca, you, reader, will be the first to know about it!

Here's a picture for old times' sake.

A Lil' Spot with poor results

The move towards glamorizing doughnuts began on the dessert menus of trendy restaurants (see Starr's Buddakan or Keller's Per Se), where chic and homey were meeting in unexpected ways. Just call it post-modern comfort food.

Soon after debuting as a dessert, these newly hip rounds migrated to the bakeries of NYC. The City's Doughnut Plant became the epicenter of the upscale doughnut (Dean & Deluca and Zabar's). The formerly humble "donut" could now be found covered in (Valrhona) ganache or a fresh blueberry glaze.

During a food crawl this past July, I happened upon an alleyway dive that I recognized as the recipient of Philly Magazine's "Best Doughnuts, 2004" award. Painted in bold-type above the entrance was the name of this glorified breakfast cart, Lil' Spot. I walked in hoping to see dougnuts of a different breed, but I found myself staring at the face of Dunkin Donut banality. I was bummed, but a winning taste could have revived my fleeting hope for a really good fried confection.

I chose a thick vanilla-glazed doughnut and a handful of these mini cinnamon donuts that reminded me of Linvilla Orchird's warm cider doughnuts. My hopes were quickly dashed with a bite into the ersatz vanilla-glaze; this is the kind of treat that gives real vanilla a bad name. Next I munched on one of the tiny cinnamon rings (see picture at top). Immediately I got the awkward sensation that I was eating a fried "Chinese pancake." Although the sweetness of the cinnamon and sugar were potent, the sides of my tongue detected sesame oil and a hint of soy. For an instant I took pleasure in this perverse Chinese-American confection, but the eerie aftertaste erased any further enjoyment. I'm glad I passed on the "regular" glazed version.

Until Philly can shake itself from its passé carb-phobia and embrace this fried ring of cholesterol (ouch, doughnuts need better PR), I am left with only one decent doughnut purveyor, the Amish.
How I crave gourmet doughnuts!

One final note: An apple-filled beignet, the holeless French doughnut, is available at Le Petit Mitron in Narberth. It may not be a true substitute, but a fresh, airy, and lightly-sugared beignet should please those unsatisfied with its American counterpart. Around Philly, it's as gourmet as it gets.

Location:
Lil' Spot: 103 S. Juniper St. (intersects with Drury St)

Le Petit Mitron: Directly across from Narberth train station (on vacation until September 7th, 2005)

Cafe Toscano Gelateria

With critical darling Capogiro in town, a new gelateria can't help but be compared, and in this particular case, pale in comparison. It's too bad, because Cafe Toscano's gelato is pretty damn good.

Located at 609 Chestnut St., Cafe Toscano shouldn't struggle for customers, especially during the warmer months. Packs of tourists shuffle by the street during the week, moving to and fro the Liberty Bell Center and Independence Hall. (It would be in the gelateria's best interest to invest in a more visible sign; tourists are attracted to bright lights.) Rather than aiming to attract thrill-seeking foodies and the organic-naturalist crowd, Cafe Toscano offers tamer flavors for whole-family appeal. This, of course, is not a fault as long as the gelati are quality. Besides, there are some imaginative flavors, like Tartufo (truffles), Cannolo Siciliano, Tiramisu, and G-Power (sports drink), to name a few.

Without fussily pairing my flavors, I chose a scoop of Cannolo Siciliano and Panna Cotta, which were crammed into the smallest cup. (Don't quote me, but the small cup was approximately $3.30 including tax.) Both gelati had the signature creamy, not icey, consistency. Without a cup-to-cup comparison, it would be difficult to distinguish differences between Capogiro's and Toscano's gelati, but I felt that the the latter's was more akin to a rich ice cream on the tongue. As for taste, the Cannolo Siciliano was gustatorily arresting. Immediately I got the sense that I was savoring a cool ricotta cannoli. The sweet ricotta gelato was rife with tiny bits of crunchy cannoli shell, giving it a fitting touch of authenticity.

My other flavor choice, Panna Cotta, was much less interesting. It tasted similar to a vanilla gelato, but with a taste more redolent of eggs and cream than of vanilla bean (and Panna Cotta is an eggless custard!).

On the strength of the Cannolo alone, I can recommend trying Cafe Toscano. With such a varied selection of flavors, ranging from the conventional to the kid-friendly (Oreo) and beyond, it's hard to ignore this new gelateria's appeal. It may not equal Capogiro's ice cream transcendence, but who can? Cafe Toscano is Philly's second best spot for the creamy confection, and that's saying alot.

Cape May Getaway

Cape May has been my beach of destination since I can remember, and before that even. Over the years, I've derived enjoyment from this South Jersey spot for a number of obvious reasons - lounging on the beach, bike riding through the gingerbread Victorian streets - but since donning the garb of Minor Gourmand, I've added gastronomy to my list of shore pleasures.

The problem with shore dining, a glaring one at that, is pricing. Since most shore towns are foresaken from Labor Day through May, the restaurants jack-up the prices to squeeze extra dough from summer visitors. With the high price of dining comes the need for informed choices: where does the food merit the price tag? Some restaurants qualify for a little price hike, but other spots tip the quality-price scale unmercifully, churning out weak meals served by a flighty and crabby waitstaff.

Below are some places I've found to be not only worth the price tag, but unique to Cape May as well. The Summer calendar is nearing its end, so if you don't make it to these destinations this summer, mark them down for next year's gettaway.

Island Grill (311 Mansion St., behind the outdoor mall):  Cape May regulars (you know, people who plaster their cars with two-tone CM stickers) might remember the address from its previous Victorian iteration, the Mansion House. Now the spot is home to more summery fare that will excite eaters young and old. Splashes of the Bahama coat the walls and give the restaurant a beachside vibe. The menu is host to some wonderful appetizers and salads, such as the cool Black Bean, Shrimp, Mango-Avocado Salad and the liberally-stuffed Conch Fritters, with their nippy tartar dressing. Entrees include a choose-your-own-adventure Island Grill Fresh Fish special, where you choose the sea critter, the preparation, and the finishing sauce.

Mad Batter (19 Jackson St.): Not only is this CM favorite located on one of the most scenic streets in town, it's also home to some of the best and most consistent dining. Despite the whimsical character the eponym suggests, the Mad Batter is actually quite elegant in a shorts and sandals-kinda way. The new menu includes a few standouts, including the panko-crusted Asian Style Grouper, with a crunchy slaw to match, and a pan-seared Striped Bass sided by tasty crabmeat and cheese grits. You'll be hard pressed to find a regular who doesn't enjoy eating at the Mad Batter - be it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

Blue Pig Tavern: Located in the renovated Congress Hall, the Blue Pig's Brooks Brothers aura makes it another gentile dining spot. But the the kid-friendly menus and amiable waitstaff also make it a great restaurant for the whole family -- if you can stomach the bill. Although there are some pricey entrees, ordering the hefty appetizers can cut back on expense without sacrificing satiety.

The Crab Cake and Tomato-Corn Salad is a steal of a meal at $12. The fist-sized crab cake is full of pinky-size crab lumps and accented by a mild chipolte aioli. A bounty of tiny Fried Calamari reminded me of eating popcorn but only with a more al dente bite. If the wasabi and mildly sweet beet oil were more abundant, this would be the perfect gourmet bar food. For an entree that needs no first course, try the wonderful plump Crab-stuffed Scallops ($25). Oh, and stay for the desserts; but do share, they're pretty large.

Two more seashore standouts are 410 Bank Street and Restaurant 1919. The latter is the the newest addition to Cape May's fine dining scene, and the first one you'll see crossing into the Cape. 1919 brings an eclectic menu and a classy wine list that begs for a little seashore romance.

410 Bank Street (guess where it's located) is a storied Cape May restaurant that's been attracting foodies from far and wide. I would consider the menu traditional, but it does have some Sino flair, not to mention high prices. Send the little ones to the arcade when you try either of these elite restaurants.

Et Cetra

Even lattes come with a bloated price tag down here. For coffee and espresso that's worth it, try Lulu's. This brand new little cafe, which is attached to a wing of Hotel Macomber, serves LeBus treats along with some of the shore's best french toast and pancakes from 7-12PM, and then reopens at 6:30 for warm desserts, Bassetts ice cream, cookies, and caffeine.

For cheap and quick quality, try Hot Dog Tommy's. This walled-in stand serves the best dogs in town, be it the cheaper but still well dressed Leaner Wiener, or the plump all beef Black Angus Dog. I always opt for a leaner wiener Mexi-dog ($1.60); diced onions, salsa, and cheddar cheese lay atop this steamy hot dog.

Phoebe's knows her 'cue

Heading south in Center City, once you pass beyond Spruce, you better know where you're going. Once you hit Bainbridge, you'll either find yourself at the cusp of a bevy of  South Street activity, or you'll be staring at an abundance of devolpments.

Food and shopping outlets are mostly found between streets 2nd through 10th - numbered streets run east to west - and west of that, you're on your own. But if you're willing to look, there are some cultural enclaves, almost like buroughs, below Spruce and west of 10th. One of these is the 22nd block of South St. It's a confluence of multiple ethnicities, ones usually separated into distinct 'hoods. Look at the cuisine and you get a sense of the diversity. There's the Balkan Express (Hungarian), Mai Lai (Thia), Ants Pants Cafe ("International"), and Phoebe's Bar-B-Que (from the good ole south).

Always looking for good Latte, I planned to stop at Ants Pants, and then eat lunch at Phoebe's. Well, Ants Pants happens to be closed on Tuesdays, so I replaced my Iced Latte with a nice cool bottled water (only $.50 round these parts). Adjacent to Ants Pants is Phoebe's, a glorified hole-in-the-wall -- glorified because it isn't dirty, hole-in-the-wall because you'll be searching for elbow room. Tight quarter means Pheobe's is takeout only.

The menu has a lot of options, but not of the food variety, of the portion variety. Table-less, I knew I'd have to order with carry-out sanitation in mind, so I went with the portable Pulled Pork Sandwich (small side of  worthy slaw included).  To start, Spiro, the joint's owner for six years and counting, works his hands into a bucket of pork meat. His veteran mitts separate the nubs from the choice meat, pulling and tenderizing the meat in the process. The next step would usually be to weigh the meat - 1/3lb per sandwich - but he seems like he knows the proper amount, so he bypasses the measure and drops the pulled pork into Phoebe's homemade sauce.

I asked for the "hot" barbecue sauce after Spiro assured me it was more tangy than fiery. I'd have to agree. Unlike many barbecue sauces, the first sensation I encountered was tang. It isn't off-putting, or tart, but it does separate the flavor from a more traditional and more bold molasses, spice, and tomato puree-based barbecue bastings.

The pork on the sandwich was very toothsome. The pieces were more than just shards of meat, they were tenderized and thinly torn, making the meat very easy to chew. I was suprised to find not one tough nub in my whole sandwich. The moisture of the sandwich comes mostly from the sauce, the pork is tender but not seeped in a marinade and therefore less juicy (and less messy, keep in mind).

Whereas the wrap at the Smoked Joint made for an awkward pork encasing, the kaiser roll at Phoebe's is just right -- which means it was sturdy enough to hold the meat, but not too thick as to subtract from the overall taste. Kudos for not simply using two wimpy pieces of "white" bread.

Phoebe's solid sandwich has got me lookin' to consume more 'cue. Maybe next time I'll get down and dirty with their ribs, an integral item on any good Barbecue restraunt.

Location: 2214 South St.
Other places to chow:
Jamaican Jerk Hut (1436 South St.)
Sweet Lucy's Smokehouse (7500 State Rd. - Northeast Philly - Big Hype!)
Ron's Ribs (1627 South St.)

Duck Deli BBQ Restaurant (524 E. Butler Ave., New Britain)
Nina's Bar-B-Que (351 Evesham Ave., Lawnside, N.J.

Melograno: Is it that good?

Overrated is a term usually saved for athletes or cult films, not restaurants. But, never say never, Melograno is overrated. A decline into bloated reviews is conceivable, isn't it? The restaurant opens in 2003 with a full head of gastro-steam and follows with a strech of inspired dining, pleasing magazines and local papers. Fast forward to Summer 2005, the critics stop showing. The staff is satisfied with their popularity, and the locals still fill the place everynight from 6:30 to close. Why not let loose a bit?

I made the decision to go to this Toscan BYOB, despite the notoriously lengthy table-wait due to their no reservation policy, because of the notably positive reviews (not least of them from Bon Appetit and Craig LaBan). Most of these reviews date from over a year ago, even EGullet and Chowhound posts are months old. Maybe others have caught on.

We were seated quickly thanks to our 6:20 arrival time (it's a summer Friday night mind you). The crowd was yuppie to suave middle-agers. Conversations appeared less concerned with the pasta's tooth-ability and more about weekend gettaways. (Although one table chatted about Rrestaurateur Neil Stein's demise.) One of two order-taking waitrons, our waitress wasn't peppy, but she was adequate at reading the specials and fielding questions. Some of the waitstaff seems unconcerned.

The dinner started out without mishap. In fact, my breaded and deep-fried chicken livers (fegatini di pollo $8) were excellent. Crispy and lightly mustardy, the oblong cutlets were piquant and satisfying. The bed of sweet onions and stewed tomatoes was also sharply flavorful. However, the multigrain bread, served with a weak olive oil, was disappointing. The carraway seeds insinuated their flavor much too imprudently.

My male dining comrade had a wonderfully visual and toothsome antipasta of one grilled artichoke surrounded by deftly charbroiled scallops. The deflowered artichoke came with it's long stem attached, giving it the look of a short ulna. The scallops' flavor weren't subverted by any heavy butter sauce, just a little olive oil, and were perfectly cooked through. Let's just say we were all pretty excited for the next course.

At this time of the night, the tiny corner location was crowded, with the final seats being occupied outdoors. With packed quarters comes noisey conversation. Romantic and quiet Melograno is not. At times I couldn't gauge my dining comrades' responses without a double-take. I even found myself cupping my ear and leaning forward to hear the dessert selection. "WHAT KIND OF CAKE WAS THAT AGAIN?"

On to the main course. If I hadn't ordered the fried chicken livers during the first course, I likely would have turned to the meats section of the menu,  which occupies one of the five pages in the little black booklet (the other four: antipastas, salads, pastas, and fish). The prune, walnut and fig-stuffed quail sounded delicious, and judging from the satisfied smile of another diner, it was. But, wanting to try something different, I went with the beet and marscapone-filled ravioli surrounded by a white wine and olive sauce. I rarely, if ever, get pasta out, mostly because it's a dinner staple in my household.

After an agreeable wait-period, the raviolis ($14) arrived as four or five 3 x 3 inch squares with a pink center. Now, because this isn't a four or five course meal, and because the raviolis weren't an appetizer, I felt justified in expecting more substance. The plate was awkwardly spare - no sides anchored the few raviolis - when compared to the other entrees I spied around the restaurant. I may not have noticed the meager portion if the raviolis were good. The pasta was too tough around the edges, and the beet-filling, altough visually appealing, completely masked the flavors of the cheese and oils with its tart-sweet flavor.

I should also mention that the supremely popular papperadelle, with truffle oil splashed wild mushrooms, toasted walnuts, and pecorino slices, was al dente. While it was a much more agreeable portion and a better dish overall than the ravioli, the pasta had too many splashes of truffle oil, which filled my nostrils and allowed only mushroom and truffle to be tasted. Yes, less truffle oil.

The apple torte I had for dessert was cute, and the flavor and texture were pleasing - I would be satisfied with the torte if I had made it. Still, some vanilla ice cream or gelato would have been nice, and the torte's inside should have been less lemon flavored and more apple.

I wasn't looking for bountiful garnishing or gastro-flourishes at Melograno, I understand this is Toscana bistro fare, but I was expecting bountiful flavor. I suppose that other menu choices would have left me with a much more positive opinion, but the point is I didn't choose those other items. At a great restaurant, all choices should be smile-enducing.

Location:  2201 Spruce St. [No reservations, some outdoor seating available]

Other options:
Italian - Ava (at 518 S. 3rd Street Philadelphia)
Sovalo (702-704 N. Second St.)
BYOBs (not too distant)  -
Matyson (19th, below Market St.)
Audrey Claire (276 S. 20th, intersects with Spruce)

Cookie Concocting

I've been craving a good Peanut Butter cookie lately. Local bakeries tend to leave them grossly underbaked, so I am left with only one option: to make them at home. Of course, this is no problem.

But I also have these (despicable) Tollhouse semi-sweet chocolate chips that I am dying to get rid of...and...I've also been wanting to make a chocolate chip cookie with oatmeal, finely processed oatmeal.

And so I shall have them all -- a peanut butter-hued, chocolate chipped, processed-oatmeal cookie. Yum. Now I just have to figure out how to make it work.

Because it's the first cookbook I see, I opened up The Dessert Bible by Chris Kimball. Flipping to the "drop and shaped cookies" section, I found a recipe for Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies that was prefaced with the famous Neiman Marcus Cookie story. (For chrissakes enough with that cookie recipe already, everyone's article cites a different recipe!)  I decided to proportion my ingredients to match Kimball's recipe, with a few minor changes and additions.

The minor Alterations

First, of course, was the addition of Peanut Butter. A typical peanut butter cookie recipe uses a cup of peanut butter, smooth, chunky, or otherwise. I decide that a generous 1/2 cup of peanut butter will provide the needed flavor without screwing with the cookie's texture. I felt that knocking the butter down 1/2 stick (or 2 oz. or 4 tbsp.) would be appropriate to maintaining the intended dough consistency. Plus, it's nearly an even substitution calorically, if anyone's counting.

Classier cookbooks ask for natural peanut butter because it contains less salt (and other additives like MSG and sugar). I opt for Smucker's Natural because the peanut oils do not separate as much as health store jar butters do. Despite this helpful feature, Smucker's does lack natural peanut flavor (see this PB ratings guide), but I guess you can't get everything right.

With the addition of natural peanut butter, you should cut back on salt -- no more than 1/4 tsp.

The New Recipe: Peanut Butter Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies

I.
1.5 cups (12 tbsp.) butter, softened
1/2 cup brown sugar [up to 3/4th cup is fine, I just ran out at a 1/2]
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup peanut butter [I used Smucker's Natural, which was nearly smooth]
II. Wet
2 eggs at room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract
III. Dry goods
2 cups all-purpose flour
1.5 cups oatmeal, ground in processor until finely cut [mealy, not like a fine flour]
1 tsp. baking powder
IV.
8 oz. (about 1.5 cups) of good chocolate chips
*V. Advised and Revised (see below)
2 tbsp. sourcream (or whole milk yogurt if you're out)

The Process:
In a stand mixer - beat the butter just to mush it up, then add the sugars and beat until it starts to appear whipped (until curled edges, say 3 minutes). Scrape the whipped butter-sugar off the sides and add the Peanut Butter; beat until the same effect happens again (less than a minute on medium).

Add the eggs one at a time and beat until just combined. Then do the same with the vanilla.

The flour, baking powder, and finely chopped oats should be combined well in a separate - no pockets of powder should be visible. With a rubber ____, combine the flour in two parts. Basically, you don't want to beat the crap out of the dough ball. I would recommend a 15 minute rest in the refrigerator, but this step is not scientifically crucial.

I used my new Scooper (56mm) to cup the dough into balls - I ended up with 18 cookies. Place about 9 cookies on a baking sheet, flatten them slightly (they will not spread much, and then place them in the middle of a 360-degrees oven. I don't trust 350-degrees with thick cookies like these.

The Results

Visuals: The cookie is paler than cookies made with more brown sugar, and also flatter. More appealing than Kimball's "Best," but not gourmet bakery sexy.
Texture/Mouthfeel: Firm outer skin, but all PB-moist inside. The chocolate chips add a much needed snap; nuts, as a replacement or addition, would provide a similar crunch. The interior, due to the oats and sticky PB, draws moisture away from your mouth. You'll start to want some milk, bad.
Taste: Good-great. The peanut butter shines through, and the oat-enhanced cookie dough around it tastes swell as well. The Tollhouse Chocolate Chips, though, are weak in flavor. Use them if you must, but look for a better alternative (remember, don't put in a whole damn bag of chip).

*With the mouth moisture reduction and ensuing craving for milk, I thought that a couple tablespoons of sour cream or whole milk yogurt would add more moisture to the cookies, and also contrast the peanut butter with a little sour. That would be awesome.

Check back soon for 2.0

Au Revoir: two pastry partings bring such sweet sorrow

It's a sad day for the eclair eaters and genoise gnawers of Philadelphia, a very sad day. Instead of a selection of the day's pastries, Yann Patisserie's windows are now vacant. The constantly rotating hours-of-operation and shrinking pastry menu portended last week's closing. It seems the opening of food superstore, DiBruno Bro's on Chestnut, may have been the coup de grace for the struggling cafe.

I appreciated Yann for its reasonable prices -- despite a slight hike, the prices were consistently under $4.00 -- and for the large and rotating selection of sweets. Although I frowned on some of their bloated pastries and mousse mountains, they always had a few items that were delectable. Take a look at my very last Yann pastry, a Betsy Ross, for a dessert that accentuates the positives. Betsy was an inch-and-a-half of great white chocolate mousse dressed with a belt of raspberry puree under a skirt of raspberry studded cake.  A patriotic French pastry if there ever was one.

It's been speculated that Yann's closing had to do with the area's ridiculous rent cost and strong nearby competitors. Yann had some considerable competition from Miel Patisserie, the ritzier and far more expensive pastry shop owned by Robert Bennett (make that former owner, see more below). La Columbe coffee shop also served excellent sweets provided by Lacroix restaurant's viennoisserie, rendering it a one stop shop for excellent coffee and pastries.

A second blow to the Philly French pastry scene this week, one with unforeseen conclusions, was the retirement of Miel's brainchild and CPO (chief pastry officer) Robert Bennett. Operating two successful pastry shops, the newer located on 17th St. in Center City, was "too much to handle" for Mr. Bennett. He has decided to spend some time with his family and then start anew, but on a smaller scale, something probably comparable to a Le Petit Mitron. Bennett's partner, Marshall Weinerman, has been named the successor.

Losing the immense talent of Robert Bennett is surely going to be a blow to Miel's quality. It wouldn't bother me if Miel's array of sweets lost some of their considerable visual appeal, but a drop in quality would be unacceptable. Some of Miel's larger and more expensive pastries are already lacking exquisite flavor, especially when considering the high price tag.

Affected pastry eaters, I advise you to grieve in Old City, where you can take solice in the upscale American sweets availalble at Tartes and Petit 4 Pastry.

Notes:
I was made aware of the above developments thanks to Chowhound's Pennsylvania forum.

From "Oh Mercy!" to Mercer (Cafe)

On the tip of PW writer Lauren McCutcheon, I traveled to 2619 Westmoreland St -- the wrong 2619 Westmoreland St. Thanks to my cursory mapping, I landed myself and my dining partner in great peril, or so we thought. Suffice it to say the nearest thing to a cafe from this Westmoreland St. was a McDonald's with outdoor seating (no offense).

After this stress-inducing mishap, we made our way to the correct street in Port Richmond, a section of North Philly that's a stonesthrow from I-95. This part of the city is a far cry from Rittenhouse Square, but as a close appendage to Center City, Port Richmond's cheap real estate must be attracting some new commuters and entrepreneurs.

Mercer Cafe's presence is certainly a sign that things are looking up. The cafe would be a nice fit for any small town -- I'm actually quite jealous. It's friendly sign and bright striped awning give it a precious appeal. When we arrived at 11:40, still planning on breakfast, the place was filled accept for two long family-style tables. And when I say family-style, I really mean six strangers sitting  in close proximity.

Despite our late arrival, all breakfast items were still available. The menu opens with a selection of sandwiches, numbered from 32 to 56 (don't ask me why), plus chalkboard specials. The last two pages were filled with morning diner fare -- eggs, meats, potatoes, waffles, and pancakes. Along with those typical selections, one of two chalkboards was filled with more upscale breakfast choices. Out of those, the marscapone French toast jumped out as a sure bet, and the chocolate chip pancakes and crab, asparagus, and mozzarella omelet sounded nearly as alluring. Since I'm not a fan of chocolate in the morning, and because I've been duped by fanciful omelets before, I ordered the French toast. McCutcheon's positive review of said omelet nudged my dining comrade into ordering the dish.

I should note that the wait service is lacking. Mercer is understaffed, a fact that is especially evident around midday. It took too long for us to get our drinks -- a delicious Raspberry Chai Tea and a La Columbe-press cappuccino -- and when delivering them the edgy waitresses nearly spilled them. In our famished state, the wait for our food was simply ennervating. Make sure to bring your newspaper and get comfortable.

When the orders did arrive, we (ok - I) could bitch no more. Mercer's cooks are obviously fed up with the boring same-old, same-old that is so easy to come by and so hard to avoid. (Good breakfast foods aren't all that difficult to make, but you wouldn't know it judging by the pale eggs and gloppy pancakes that most restaurants serve.) The crab, asparagus, and mozzarella omelet had to be the most visually appetizing fried egg dish I've ever dined on, and the taste was no let down. The crab was juicy and accented the entirety of the egg. Quiches everywhere should envy the solidarity of flavor had by the asparagus and crab combo. And the mozz! Fresh, stingy, and fully flavored. The eggs in this omelet were only the glue that held together the ingredients; they were cooked just enough to keep a light yellow color without becoming rubbery.

My one minor annoyance with the omelet dish was a side of French fries. Not only is the addition pointless, but the fries were of terrible quality -- limp and underseasoned.

The marscapone French toast was illuminating. Mercer's version is the best classic French toast I've had, sincerely. The French toast was 3 slices of compact, not airy, challah that soaked up the mix of marscapone and maple syrup that was spread over top. The marscapone, which was used in place of extra butter, outweighed the syrup and defined the dish's flavor. I will never use butter again.

Aside from these two delights, we split a side of potato pancakes. While I was thinking flat fried hash browns, the potato pancakes actually looked like balls of crab cake. They were panko-encrusted, a reshreshing change, and were very creamy and spiked with scallion and parsley. They were good, but the herbed cream overwhelmed the potatoes.

So, although service should have been more snappy, Mercer Cafe is an exemplarary little cafe. The breakfast and lunch selections range from simple to adventurous, leaving fussy eaters without excuses. Even if you don't want to eat a meal, or don't feel like a healthy portion, Mercer's supplies it counters with Isgro's pastries (made-to-order cannolis included), cookies, and croissants. So what's left for Mercer Cafe to do? Open one in my town.

Location: 2619 Westmoreland Street, Philadelphia (Port Richmond area)