Flavor Boulevard

By the time we found Crixa Cakes, the bluish afternoon sunlight was tinkling its almost empty glass cabinets. The bakery closes at 6:30 everyday and does not open on Sunday. The menu changes daily and the cakes go fast. But we were slow at making up our minds. Bakeries are worse than quaint bookstores, where you can at least try out something before buying it.

Easiest choice: Boston creme pie. Tender chiffon cake with creamy vanilla custard, covered with dark chocolate ganache. The refrigerated sponge is like Choco Pie, only much better and, of course, pricier at $5.85 a piece. (Fun facts: its monetary value is, however, nothing compared to the Choco Pie in North Korean black markets, where a single pie costs one sixth a worker’s monthly wage.)

Curious choice: Pave vergiate. Flourless chocolate cake.  Slightly bitter, some on and off hint of lizard eggs or herbal tea. I know that sounds weird, and it’s not like I’ve tried lizard eggs, but you’ve gotta trust your instinct, and as weird as it may sound, it’s a nice subtle taste that leads you on forking. Now texture-wise, eating pave vergiate is like bouncing on a plush sofa (not to mention that the piece looks like one). Featherly light with intermittent chocolate hits. It gets dense and similar to normal chocolate cake once refrigerated though.

Eastern European choice: Poppyseed rugelach. Flaky tender pastry roll with ground, honeyed poppyseeds. This is Hungarian, to be exact. The poppyseeds are like finely ground sesame, eating them between layers of baked dough is like walking on a sandy beach with a semisweet tropical wind. I’d ditch cinnamon rolls (and I always do) for these cuties anytime of the day.

There’s hardly any better way to sum it up than Elizabeth Kloian’s own lines:

[…]Think of the smallest pastry as the greatest extravagance not because of how many calories it has, but because of the satisfaction it gives you[…]

And yes, “extravagance” is the right word, these darlings cost aplenty. Especially when you keep wanting to buy the whole store…

Address: Crixa Cakes
2748 Adeline Street (across the street from Berkeley Bowl)
Berkeley, CA 94703
(510) 548-0421

Can you be overflowed with art? My afternoon started with a lecture on the dawn of Cubism (when abstracts paintings were still somewhat legible if you really try hard to make sense out of it). At 3 I rode in the car with my physics professor and advisor across the countryside to downtown Houston, filled our eyes with sight of uniform corn fields, carpets of bluebonnet (yes, they’re still out and blooming!), and relaxing cattle. At 5 we reached the Wortham center garage, parking for the Rigoletto performance later in the evening. At 5:10 we were at Artista, 2 blocks down the street. It’s owned by a Nicaraguan family, featuring South American dishes, ranging from high class to what you might find around the corner for a good tummy-filler. So I’ve heard. You’ve gotta have a nice dinner before an opera, spend your TA check of the week on a single meal, and feel good, right?

Act I: chupe. “maine lobster bisque, charred tomato and smoked panela cheese” is what on the menu.

I found lobster, corn, rice, and mysterious white cubes underneath the calm surface. Not unexpectedly, it was thick, a little peppery, just luke warm, and cries South American. The most interesting thing was the white cubes, which taste very much like tofu, except for the extra firmness, or perhaps the almost gummy-bear texture, plain and pure. Was that the panela cheese?

Act II: churrasco. I saw it on almost every dinner banquet menu, and I like my meat, so why not?

Beautiful combination of colors. At the left we have béarnaise, made from egg yolk and spices, but by itself it really doesn’t have much of taste other than fatty. In the middle, just a simple steak. On the right, (roasted ?) ripe plantain. This is the best thing. I had to sacrifice the meat to have room for the plantain. It was sweet and compact. It enhances the steak. Oh, did I forget to mention that we had plantain chips while waiting? So much better than potato chips and corn chips. Thin and crisp, but they break nicely, you don’t get a mount of crumbs in front of you. The Dominican in our group told us that they make the chips from green plantain, and keep the ripe ones for side dishes (like with the churrasco) and for dessert.

Now I couldn’t take a picture of my dessert because there wasn’t enough light. Half of the group was persuaded into getting the Tres Leches, and was very happy they did. A sponge cake soaked in milk it was, but it is much lighter than it sounds. The Dominican said that it’s their best dessert, the final touch that makes you come back, the ultimate satisfaction that you must have before you die. Well, it was good. But I like my rich cocoa tart with “fudge and chocolate ganache and coconut ice cream”, which was absolutely not coconut, but more like sweetsop sorbet. (Don’t let the name fool you, sweetsop, i.e. sugar-apple, is neither sweet nor apple, but rather pulpy and a little sour, and beware of the seeds if you’re eating the fresh one.) Well, does this swapping of tropical flavors occur on regular basis? I don’t know. I did enjoy my “coconut ice cream” very much, and the chocolate quiche too, but each on their own. The combination wasn’t a good match.

We were an assorted group of 15, several Americans, a Swiss, a Dominican, a Peruvian, a Mexican, a Vietnamese, a lot of wine, and different levels of cuisine adventurousness. Guess how much was on the bill? 1186 dollars and some. Well, of course it got that high because Dr. Agnolet and Sandi were kind enough to pay for most of it. But, there you go, physics students don’t always eat cheap. 😉

See the menu.

Around noon time, in front of the smaller-than-a house’s door gate of the old Pho Thong Nang Khieu high school (notice they don’t show you the gate in that picture…), came an ice cream man. The typical street vendor, with a big styrofoam box on a bike, maybe a couple of buckets on the sides, I’m not sure if I remember correctly the details here. He sold kem ong, i.e. ice cream tubes. It’s something I’d never had before and possibly will never see again.

His ice cream had a skinny tubular shape, about a foot long, stick to a long skinny bamboo stick. The ice cream is actually contained in aluminum tubes, from which he quickly pulled out when we asked to buy. I usually went for the jackfruit kind (kem mit), where you have little strips of jackfruit hidden inside the ice cream, quite a treasure to chew as the vanilla milky bits melt on your tongue. For VND1000 a stick, the kem mit was sold out within 15 minutes or so. He also had kem dau xanh (mung bean ice cream), kem dau do (red bean ice cream), and a few other types, but I don’t remember getting those. It was a very nice treat for lunch break between 5 hours of morning classes and a few more hours of afternoon ones. It’s fun to share with friends too, since the tubes were so long and took you longer to eat than it to melt.

Does he still sell ice cream there, anyone knows? If you can take a picture of the ice cream, please do, and send me a link! I’m dying to just look at them again…

Side note: This post was originally written to explain the idea behind Eistube, my old little blogging corner. After moving, I feel oblige to keep the ice cream content with little editing. It was just too sweet a memory to erase from a food blog.