I’m just a sweet chimney cake…from traditional Transylvania

October 3, 2016 Comments Off read Canada, Masticating With Mellzah, Travel

I’ve done precisely zero research on the matter, but it is my understanding that Transylvania has two main exports: vampires and chimney cakes. I never drink…wine. But I do eat cake. Maybe too much cake, but that’s really neither here nor there. So when I happened across a Vancouver bakery specializing in Romanian pastries, including the aforementioned chimney cake (or kürtőskalács), I knew I definitely wanted to incorporate it into my next visit to British Columbia, as a trip to Romania proper is a bit more involved than taking an afternoon jaunt across the border. A chimney cake is made of yeast dough which is wrapped in a spiral around a wooden dowel and baked, similarly to meat on a spit. As it rotates, it’s basted with butter until the sugary outside caramelizes into thin, golden, crackle-y perfection, which can be further augmented by rolling it in other toppings like chopped nuts. When it’s served hot, steam vents out the top like a little chimney and it’s charming as all get out.

There are two (one, two, ah ha ha ha) bakeries in Vancouver that make chimney cakes: Transylvanian Traditions, and The Kürtősh Cafe. Of course, I had to go to both. First up was Transylvanian Traditions. Transylvanian Traditions makes a variety of pastries including the chimney cake, and the chimney cake is offered in only one flavor. When I arrived, I got one hot and fresh from the oven, steam merrily venting from the top. The cake is a revelation–soft and chewy toward the center, crisp on the outside, tangy with lemon, and light like a raised doughnut.

The Kürtősh Cafe is the newer of the two bakeries, and they specialize solely in chimney cakes, offering it in a wide variety of sizes, flavors, and combinations, including savory cakes and cakes smeared with nutella and stuffed with ice cream. Jason got a chimney cake with nutella and almonds, Tristan got a cinnamon sugar chimney cake, and I got a half size coconut matcha chimney cake. The cakes are beautiful and well presented…but just not that good. All three of the cakes were cold, a sign on the cafe’s table proclaims that they use no butter in the cake, and between those two things, you end up with a cake where the outside is chewy rather than crispy, more like the outside of a bagel. None of us were really taken by any of them, which was really a disappointment, because I never want to say anything negative about a cake. I’d be open to trying them again closer to when they open in the morning in the hopes of getting a hot cake for a fair comparison.

So basically what I’m saying is, like blood, you want it hot and fresh.

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Ironside Oyster in San Diego, CA

July 8, 2016 Comments Off read California, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

When I go somewhere I’ve been before, I try to make certain I try new restaurants in addition to my old favorites, so I don’t spend the whole trip chasing nostalgic tastes. One I was really anxious to try was Ironside Fish & Oyster: with Michelin-starred chef Jason McLeod in the kitchen, an innovative cocktail menu, and all of their bread baked in-house, plus, you know, a wall of freaking piranha skulls, I had an inkling that it would be right up my alley. Oh, and it was.

I had my very first oyster here–I figured if I was in a place with “oyster” in the name, it would be remiss to continue to eschew them. It’s a little ridiculous that I flew to San Diego from Seattle to eat an oyster that was from Washington state, but I guess sometimes you have to step outside your bubble to see the wonder that’s in your own backyard. Or something. I’d been put off by the idea of oysters in the past as so many people have described them as “snotty” which doesn’t sound particularly appetizing. For the record, I would not give them that description. Briny, chewy, with a bright tang from the lemon, they were refreshing and surprisingly delicious (surprising due to the aforementioned expectation of snot).

For the main course, Jason and I decided to split the lobster roll as I’d seen raves about that baby online, in addition to an order of fish & chips and a side of chowder fries. It was kind of a miracle that I didn’t leave Ironside Fish & Oyster feeling incredibly ill due to the richness of everything we ordered. The lobster roll was SO GOOD, stuffed with a pound of lobster and tossed in a browned butter mayo, but a couple of bites were absolutely sufficient. Same deal with the chowder fries–life changing but insanely decadent, with a heaping portion of bacon-y clam chowder gravy ladled on top of their crisp housemade fries. I think I took one bite of the fish from the fish&chips and it was excellent, and a bite of my dad’s seafood paella which was also incredible and then I was DONE. I’d absolutely go again, and as long as I try something new, it’ll be within my self-imposed rules. Plus, I really need to figure out how to smuggle that tentacle lamp off the wall and home to my pirate bathroom.

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The Crack Shack San Diego

July 4, 2016 Comments Off read California, Masticating With Mellzah, Pacific, Travel, USA, West

I have never seen a bit of wordplay I enjoyed more than this barnyard joke.

A while back on Facebook, I saw my dad check into someplace called “The Crack Shack”. At first I was glad that it wasn’t, you know, an actual shack for crack because no one wants to sit down and have the talk with their dad about substance abuse, but upon second glance, I knew I’d have to visit for myself, because their chicken sandwiches looked like something I’d potentially stab a guy to try. Thankfully, their sandwiches were plentiful on the date that I visited and I didn’t need to find out exactly how deep my anger and gluttony issues run.

I bought two sandwiches to try: the Señor Croque (crispy chicken, fried egg, cheddar, miso-maple butter on brioche) and the Coop Deville (crispy chicken, pickled fresno chilies, lime mayo, napa cabbage on brioche) and an array of their house made dipping sauces for little bits of chicken picked off of the sandwiches so as to better get the whole flavor picture. The Señor Croque was delicious (ALL THE UMAMI) but far too rich, the kind of sandwich you have to stop eating after a bite or two lest you feel ill for the rest of the day, the kind of sandwich that would be far better served as a slider. The Coop Deville, on the other hand, was sandwich perfection. A good sandwich has an interplay of flavors and textures, and this one had hot crunchy chicken (with a crackly fried crust that wasn’t grease-saturated), spicy-sweet slaw, the tang of the lime in the mayo, all rounded out with buttery soft brioche.

All that, and a “cluck off, I’m hangry” t-shirt. Eggsellent. Now if only they’d start dealing in my neighborhood.

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