Comestiblog

Dutch Haven Shoofly Pies

It was not a lawless giant who meant to do battle with me.  Rather, it was an old-fashioned roadside attraction with gesticulatory arms that beckoned me to stop.  For more than half a century, the iconic Dutch Haven windmill has waved at cars and horse-drawn buggies traveling along the Lincoln Highway in Pennsylvania's Dutch Country.

This Lancaster County landmark began as a gas station with an adjoining ice cream stand in the '20s.  When Roy and Alice Weaver bought the business in 1946, they opened a restaurant that featured Pennsylvania Dutch fare, and added a gift shop.  After Dutch Haven's fortunes had declined, however, Paul Stahl purchased the property in 1991 and began selling Amish furniture, crafts, and kitschy souvenirs.  Though he closed the restaurant, he reinstated its most famous item: shoofly pie.

Lois Schrock hands me a slice of shoofly pie

Using Alice Weaver's original recipe of white flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and refiners' syrup, Stahl purports to produce "America's best shoofly pie."  Never having tried the molasses-based confection, I was eager for my first taste.  As I made my way to the counter, Lois Schrock, a Dutch Haven fixture, handed me a sample of the gooey goody.

Served slightly warm with a dollop of whipped cream, the pie delivered surprisingly complex flavors that stimulated my tongue.  Instead of being cloying, it was agreeably sweet, with a richness that even afforded slight hints of umami.  Its viscid filling, offset by a thick crust and a crumb topping, yielded a palate-pleasing plate of textural contrasts.  While I normally eschew sugary desserts, I'm happy to have not es-shooed this one.

Pies are available whole or by the slice

It's hard to determine whether Dutch Haven's shoofly pies are truly America's best.  Suffice it to say, however, that all others I've tasted thereafter have left me tilting toward the ones beneath the windmill.

Dutch Haven

2857A Lincoln Highway East (U.S. 30)
Ronks, PA   17572-9607   (map)

(717) 687-0111

http://www.dutchhaven.com/

Dinah Shore sings "Shoo-Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy" (1946)

Comestiblab: There are a couple of explanations regarding the origin of the pie's name.  One theory maintains that shoofly (also shoo-fly) pie originated in France, where its crumb topping was said to resemble a cauliflower, or chou-fleur (pronounced shoo·FLUR) in French.  Supposedly, the word eventually morphed into "shoofly."  A more plausible explanation, however, is that the sweet ingredients attracted flies that had to be shooed away.

Comestiblab:  Pennsylvania Dutch isn't Dutch at all—it's an alteration of Deutsch, the German word for German.  The term refers to descendants of the people who emigrated from southwestern Germany to Pennsylvania during the seventeenth and and eighteenth centuries.  It also refers to a German dialect spoken in Amish communities.  Thus, it would seem a Dutch windmill is somehow out of place in Pennsylvania Deutsch country.

Istanbul in Brooklyn: güllüoğlu Baklava & Cafe

There's no better cure for a winter chill than dessert and a hot beverage from Güllüoğlu in Midwood, Brooklyn.  This elegant and cozy Turkish café entreats with over a dozen varieties of baklava and kadayif (shredded phyllo pastry).  Various other sweet and savory delights, such as böreği (layered pastry), poğaça (puff pastry), simit (annular sesame bread), acma (Turkish "bagel"), ay çöreği ("moon pastry," or Turkish "croissant"), and acibadem (bitter almond cookie), beckon as well.  And, of course, the obligatory Turkish Delight and Turkish coffee are available, too.

Güllüoğlu's (pronounced gü·lü·OH·loh, where ü represents the German ü or the French u sound) history dates back more than a century.  In 1871, using a recipe he'd acquired from a chef in Damascus, Güllü Çelebi met with sweet success when he introduced the people of Gaziantep, Turkey to baklava.  Five generations later, with an intervening move to Istanbul, the Güllü family continues to operate the business.  In 2005, the first American outpost was established as a franchise in Brooklyn.  To ensure quality and consistency, the stateside branch imports its products directly from the company's plant in Istanbul.  Pastries are frozen, vacuum-sealed, and shipped to Brooklyn, where a baker "trained in the Güllüoğlu tradition" prepares them fresh daily.

Special Baklava with Double Pistachio

It should be noted that, in addition to being one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, Gaziantep is the pistachio capital of Turkey.  The green nut's influence is evident in Güllüoğlu's signature confections, which are crafted using the famed Boz pistachios from Barak.  In addition, all pastries are made with pure butter, churned from the milk of goats and sheep from Turkey's Urfa Sihan Plateau and Tektek Mountains.  As a result of the foregoing ingredients, the Special Baklava with Double Pistachio ($13.75 a pound) imparts a slight edge—a minutely subtle bitterness not found in the Greek varieties—that mitigates the confection's overall sweetness.  Thus, individual elements—phyllo, nuts, and honey—are more distinguishable on the palate and, as a whole, yield a tastier pastry.  While I may be tempted to have a typical piece of baklava once or twice a year, I find that a single pistachio-based serving just isn't enough.  The stuff is addictive.  Baklava is simply more enjoyable when its sweetness does not overwhelm.

Sahlep

Either with dessert or by itself, a steaming cup of sahlep (sometimes spelled salep) can be particularly fortifying on a cold winter's day.  In Turkey, it is often used as a remedy for coughs and sore throats.  This seasonal beverage is produced from ground, dried tubers of the Anatolian mountain orchid (Orchis latifolia, also called sahlep).  The powdered roots are heated with milk and sugar, and dusted with cinnamon, to yield a pleasantly sweet, creamy concoction.  Its nearly mucilaginous consistency derives from a nutritious, starch-like substance in the orchid's tubers, called Bassorin.  Though it may feel a bit unusual on the tongue, sahlep is a most delicious and satisfying beverage.

güllüoğlu Baklava & Cafe

1985 Coney Island Avenue (between Av P & Quentin Rd), Midwood, Brooklyn

Open daily, 7:00 A.M. till 10:00 P.M.

(718) 645-1822

http://www.gulluoglubaklava.com/

By train: B,Q to Kings Highway
By bus: B7 (daytime), B68, B82

Red Hooked on Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies

Were the name Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies not already sufficiently long, the term Old-Fashioned could be wedged in.  Steve Tarpin grew up around Key limes and knows what it takes to make a good, traditional pie therefrom.  Because of his unending disappointment with commercial varieties, the Florida woodworker-carpenter decided to bake his own Key lime pies at home for family and friends.  That was over 30 years ago.  Roughly a decade later, Tarpin came to New York from his native Miami to work with a friend.  After an injury in 1995 left him unemployed, a fortuitous meeting led Tarpin to hammer out a new career.  It was at a barbecue of the Red Meat Club that Steve's pies drew the favorable attention of a Manhattan restaurateur.  From an initial order of three pies, Steve's Authentic was born.

As business increased, so did the need for a capacious delivery vehicle.  Tarpin's purchase of a '53 Ford F-100 Flathead V8 embodied utility and marketing savvy.  The unmistakable pale yellow truck turned heads everywhere it went.  Needless to say, the Key Lime Express accelerated press coverage and helped to drive up sales.  Though mainly out of the limelight now, the truck still greets visitors to Steve's at Pier 41 in Red Hook.

One might say the quirky 50-something adheres to his own version of the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Steve.  (Even his surname is a simplification of the Armenian Tarpinian.)  Five ingredients—pasteurized egg yolks, sweetened condensed milk, butter, graham crackers, and Key limes—comprise his sole product.  Though the recipe may sound simple, the key to its authenticity is in the limes and in the preparation.

Steve's pies are made with freshly squeezed juice from true Key limes that his supplier ships to him every few weeks.  (Key limes are smaller and more acidic than the Persian variety typically found in grocery stores.)  No bottled juice or concentrate is ever used.  Furthermore, the pies are not baked.  Rather, they are "filled and chilled" to preserve the integrity of the lime juice as well as the consistency of the filling.  And because no coloring is added, the filling's pale yellowish hue remains faithful to the fruit.  Though a little sweeter than I'd prefer, the resulting confection is creamy and quite tasty.

Steve's wares are available in three sizes: 10-inch and 8-inch pies ($25 and $15, respectively), and a 4-inch tart ($4).  Several years ago, the Swingle ($5), a variation of an ice cream bar, was added to the offerings.  This unique warm-weather treat was named in honor of Dr. Walter Tennyson Swingle (1871–1952), the American agricultural botanist who categorized the Key lime (Citrus aurantifolia).  It's a 4-inch tart on a stick, dipped into melted chocolate, and frozen.  Tarpin uses Belcolade, a dark chocolate from Belgium.  As with other Belgian varieties, this one is overly sweet and thus overpowers the crisp, key lime flavors it envelops.  While the cacao adds an interesting twist, a thinner coating or a less sweet variant (from fellow Brooklynite Jacques Torres, perhaps?) would yield a better balance of flavors.  I wish a naked Swingle, sans chocolate, were available.

Although recent changes, including the openings of Fairway and IKEA, have drawn an influx of new residents and visitors to Red Hook, Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies remains off the beaten path.  The entire operation is run from a Civil War-era warehouse on the waterfront.  The bakery, small retail shop, and outdoor patio provide a laid-back setting far more reminiscent of South Florida than of South Brooklyn.  Nestled among tropical plants and a mechanical waterfall, the outdoor seating area affords a relaxing spot in which to enjoy a Swingle or a tart while sipping a Key Limonade ($2).  Spectacular vistas of the harbor and the Statue of Liberty are to be had just around the corner.  Though a considerable distance from the nearest subway line, it's worth a trip to Steve's for an authentic, old-fashioned, taste of the Sunshine State.

Steve's Authentic Key Lime Pies

204 Van Dyke Street (at Barnell St), Pier 41, Red Hook, Brooklyn

(718) 858-5333
(888) 450-LIME (5463)

http://www.stevesauthentic.com/
http://www.keylime.com/

By bus: B61, B77

Please click on the image above for a larger view of the menu.

Cocoa-Loco at City Bakery

Ever try an Arabian Nights or Earl Grey Tea hot chocolate?  Baker-and-owner Maury Rubin tempts us with these and other daily flavors throughout February at his 17^th Annual City Bakery Hot Chocolate Festival.  Other creative con-cocoa-tions include the ever-popular Banana Peel, the Sunken Treasure, the Passion Fruit Cream, the Hot Chocolate A-Go Go, and, on Valentine's Day, the Love Potion.  Since City Bakery hasn't a license to serve alcohol, it'll be interesting to taste the Beer and Bourbon cocoas.  The festival culminates with a surprise finale on the 28^th.

The City Bakery

3 West 18^th Street (near Fifth Av), Flatiron District, Manhattan

(212) 366-1414

http://www.hotchocolatefestival.com/

By train: 4,5,6 (IRT),N,Q,R,W (BMT),F,V (IND),PATH to 14^th Street

By bus: M1, M2, M3, M5, M6, M7

Not Ravin' About Cake Man's Red Velvet

In 2000, Harlem-native Raven Patrick De'Sean Dennis III put a large, red dot—with frosting—on the map in Fort Greene, Brooklyn.  Not long after he opened Cake Man Raven Confectionery on Fulton Street, his Southern Red Velvet Cake became such a sensation that he began limiting each customer to four slices.  Furthermore, whole cakes had to be ordered "at least" a week in advance.  In spite of these restrictions (or, perhaps, because of them), hour-long waits on lines stretching down the block were common.  Fanfare for Raven erupted anew within the past year, when Applebee's announced it would serve the Cake Man's signature confection at its Brooklyn restaurants.

Thus, imagine our surprise when, on a recent visit (in late-afternoon, on a Friday) to the "home of the official Red Velvet cake," we encountered no lines and, more tellingly, no other customers!  (Two people did come in after we made our purchases: one bought two slices of cake, though not the Red Velvet; the other picked up a pre-ordered sheet cake.)  Equally surprising were the ready availability of whole cakes and the absence of a purchasing limit on slices.  Was this a fluke?  Cakewoman Maven and I were determined to find out.

Hype is a funny thing.  It can lead one to enjoy things more than otherwise warranted, or it can sensitize a person to noting all the subtle (and not so subtle) flaws of the object in question.  The question here is: How did Cake Man Raven's Red Velvet cake become one of the hottest dessert properties in town?

Red Velvet cake is one of Cakewoman's passions—to the extent that she considers it to be not only a favorite dessert, but an all-around favorite food.  We've found that most bakeries follow—if not perfectly—the basic precepts: a spongy, rich chocolate cake with its moistness enhanced by copious amounts of red food-coloring, preferably not too sweet, with a creamy frosting (usually made with cream cheese, ricotta, or both).  The sides of the cake are typically sprinkled with finely crumbled chocolate cake or dark chocolate shavings.

Excessive sweetness is a widespread problem.  It's characteristic of Stop & Shop's otherwise near-perfect version (on the rare occasions they offer it), as well as Stew Leonard's less-than-velvety attempt.  Without question, the best Red Velvet cake was that of our recently deceased caterer-friend, Barbara.  Her cake's texture was spongy and had just the right amount of give.  She used enough red food coloring to enhance the deep chocolaty flavor (and, importantly, moist texture) in that uniquely savory, "red-velvet" way, without overwhelming the chocolate.  Her lightly sweetened whipped-cream frosting further contributed to a finished product that wasn't cloyingly sweet.  Yum!

Alas, "cloying" is a word that came up repeatedly as we discussed our recent cake slices ($6 apiece) and identically tasting cupcakes ($5 for two) from Cake Man Raven.  But saying the cake is too sweet is merely the tip of this confectionery iceberg.  It is more significant to note that, had we tasted it blind, neither of us would have identified it as Red Velvet cake.

First, the texture is out of balance.  Though moist, the cake is neither springy nor spongy—it's just a heavy, starchy lump.  And, instead of any inkling of chocolate, the artificial taste of the food coloring, together with that of something vaguely almondlike, predominates.  Finally, the whole thing is slathered in an inch-thick coating of outrageously sweet frosting.  There's a hint of cream cheese, but the overpowering sugar element in both cake and frosting eliminates any possibility of detecting subtleties of flavor.  In sum, our blindfolded palates might have deemed this to be a moist, but leaden, yellow cake, laden with sugar and artificial flavoring.

Two options are available when ordering this confection: plain or with a pecan-coating on the frosting.  We found the latter preferable, because the nuts help to mitigate, albeit ever so slightly, the cake's, yes, cloying sweetness.

As mentioned earlier, Cake Man Raven doesn't limit himself to Red Velvet cake.  Also on display at his shop (and the only other slices sold during our 15-minute visit) were an alarmingly green coconut cake, alongside a yellow cake of a hue one might actually find in nature.

In sum, the two of us agreed that, had we been served this in a restaurant (assuming it weren't advertised as "Red Velvet cake"), we'd not have been terribly impressed—though we'd not have been terribly disappointed, either.  The cake's moistness is quite acceptable, and we might have enjoyed a few bites of it, without the frosting.  But to seek out this confection when the occasion calls for a Red Velvet cake—especially given its steep price?  In a word: No.  I'm afraid we'll have to look elsewhere.

Cake Man Raven Confectionery

708 Fulton Street (between S Portland Av & S Oxford St), Fort Greene, Brooklyn

(718) 694-CAKE (2253)

http://www.cakemanraven.com/
http://www.myspace.com/cakemanraven

By train: C to Lafayette Av; G to Fulton St
By bus: B25, B26, B52

Oooh, Nice Buns, er, Pretzels

Although Almondine refers to them as pretzels, they look more like rolls or buns.  Perhaps they ought to be named callipygian pretzels.  Regardless of their sobriquet, however, one has to call them delicious.

The Pretzels with Cheese ($3.25 apiece) are topped with Gruyère along with sesame and poppy seeds, and even contain a bit of cheese in the center.  Warm, soft, and tasty, they constitute the perfect nosh.  Be warned, however, that one pretzel usually leads to another.

These delectable snacks were introduced here by Almondine's first head baker, Roger Gural, whose impressive credentials also include principal positions at Bouley Bakery, Amy's Bread, as well as Thomas Keller's Bouchon Bakery.  He currently teaches at his alma mater, The French Culinary Institute, from which he earned Le Diplome de Boulanger in 1998.

 

Almondine

85 Water Street (near Main St), DUMBO, Brooklyn

(718) 797-5026

http://www.almondinebakery.com/

By train: A,C to High Street; F to York Street
By bus: B25 to Main Street

Please click on the image above for a larger view of the menu.

Comestiblab:  The word pretzel comes from the (rhyming) German word Brezel; originally from the Latin brachiatus, branched (like arms), from brachium, arm.  According to legend, a monk created the knotted biscuit in the shape of arms folded in prayer.