Peanut Butter and Company

I warn you in advance that this, sadly, (for when it comes to dessert I could write a novel) will be a very short blog due to my European History midterm tomorrow. While I’m still a little confused about the relationship between communism and socialism I am not at all confused about the relationship between chocolate and peanut butter. While I have never doubted their relationship, I also never realized just what their potential was. After a trip to Peanut Butter and Company you too will realize why the expression “Peaches and Cream” should be changed to “Chocolate and peanut butter.” I ordered the “Chocolate Peanut Butter Pie,” which they make from scratch. It had a cookie crust covered in chocolate and a peanut butter cream filling. They topped it with chopped peanuts, chocolate chips, and peanut butter chips. Gilding the lily? I think not. The toppings not only made the pie a work of art, but also added a delightful texture. The smooth creaminess of the filling mixed with the crunchy toppings created an ideal equilibrium. It was also not sickeningly sweet – the saltiness of the peanut butter nicely balanced out the sweetness of the chocolate. Peanut Butter & Co. is located at 240 Sullivan St. (between Bleeker and West 3^rd) They sell sandwiches, dessert, and drinks, all featuring - you guessed it – peanut butter. Hmmm now if only there was a Nutella & Co…

Scones, Ravioli and Nutella

What a wonderful food-oriented weekend! The magic (…or calories…. but I prefer magic.) started Friday at noon, when I met my mom and aunt at the Met. In college lingo, family coming to visit = nice meal!!! We went to Alice’s Tea Cup, a few blocks from the museum, on 81^st between 1^st and 2^nd Avenues. (Alice’s Tea Cup has two other locations as well; another on the Upper East Side and one on the Upper West Side.)

The last time I had had tea – as in, not just tea, but TEA - the complete, afternoon tea- (scones, jam, clotted cream) was in Oxford, England, at a place called The Rose, and ever since then I had been dreaming of that quintessential British repast, wondering if any American institution could possibly meet my, by now terribly romanticized, expectations.

Well, the no British accents thing aside, (the waiter was some sort of hipster dude, rather than a charming English fellow) it was an excellent meal, or should I say feast. I ordered “The Nibble” which consisted of a pot of tea, a choice of scone with preserves and cream, a choice of a sandwich, and assorted cookies.

When the food arrived I could not help but eat the scone first – it’s pretty hard to resist the scent of a fresh-from-the-oven blueberry-orange scone! Typing this right now, I am mourning, just a little, for the too-abrupt disappearance of that beautiful British treat. It was oozing with blueberries and further flavored with just the right amount of orange zest. And while the blueberries and orange stole the show, you could still taste the sweet, buttery, fluffy scone. A little jam and homemade clotted cream (think, whipped cream, the remix) and that scone could have been a meal in itself.

I chose the smoked salmon sandwich, which came open-faced with lemon-dill butter, and ordered it on seven-grain bread instead of black bread. It was love at first sight with this sandwich, which was piled a good inch high with salmon.

To finish there were six cookies; oatmeal raisin, peanut buttery and jelly, sugar, and one that was filled with raspberry preserves. It was a festive and tasty ending.

With over ­­­­­­­­­­­­140 tea’s to choose from it was hard to make a decision, but when I saw “Alice’s tea” on the menu my heart-wrenching dilemma ended. I was not disappointed in this “house blend of Indian black Vanilla tea with Japanese green tea and rose petals.” It was mildly sweet, calming, and the little bit of rose petals brought me back to my afternoons at The Rose. Well, perhaps that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but the rose truly did add a nice touch.

The next day I visited my brother, in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, and ate some fantastic spinach ravioli at a restaurant called Fiore, on 284 Grand Street. Served in a brown butter-sage sauce, with freshly grated parmesan cheese on top, it was the perfect reward for a morning of lugging my suitcase through the N.Y.C. subway system. (The distance between the Upper West Side and Brooklyn grows a lot when you’re carrying all your textbooks.)

But my gourmet weekend didn’t end there, no siree. That night I discovered an amazing way to eat Nutella! (Believe me, before this I thought I’d come up with every way possible, but I was very mistaken.)

Ok, here goes: Spread atop fresh, lightly toasted challah, nutella is lifted to new heights.

My weekend ended too soon, but I think it’s safe to say that the scones, ravioli, and nutella will be lingering in my thoughts - and I’m afraid on my thighs as well - for a long time to come. Good thing Barnard has a P.E. requirement!