Passionfruit Ice Parfait in a Coconut Crepe; Mandarin Oriental

The dessert otherwise known as: Block of Solid Ice That I Was Not Able to Eat Gracefully For Every Time My Spoon Tried To Chip Away at the Ice it Would Hit the Plate With a Resounding Crack. Which is a little too long and Iman-centric to fit onto a menu, so I can understand why the Mandarin Oriental named it what they did.

Usually I inhale desserts like they're pure oxygen and I just ran a 100-metre sprint, but this parfait was just too pretentious and required too much effort to eat. Passionfruit... AND coconuts... AND the self-consciously pompous tiny portion... AND an icepicking adventure upon which one must first embark in order to even ingest it?

Oh, M.O., M.O.... no, no, no. Desserts should be soft, squishy and leisurely. If I wanted a workout and an overload of tropical exoticism I'd go jogging in the jungle.

Lollipop; the Office

I am, of course, just as aware as the next Americanized twenty-something-year-old that the lollipop to which Lil' Wayne refers in his perplexingly popular hit song "Lollipop" is not, in fact, the hard candy on a stick. Mr. Wayne seems to follow in a line of rap artists who enjoy deceiving their unsuspecting, hungry public about the topics of their lyrical offerings (other guilty parties include Fiddy, for "Candy Shop", and Luda, who named his album "Chicken & Beer". Though Luda is sort of forgiven because I actually get the reference to African American stereotypes... assuming, of course, that this was what he was referring to, and that he didn't just name his album after the only two legal things he enjoys imbibing).

But "Lollipop" is yet another generic, hyper-masculinized phallic reference laced with misogynistic overtones and implications of Mr. Wayne's supposed sexual prowess. It shamelessly corrupts the beloved hard candy enjoyed by children of all ages as well as old people, who probably have no idea that Mr. Wayne (aside: every time I refer to him as this somehow I think of the real Mr. Wayne, Batman Bruce) sings about the confectionery in such a debasing, demoralized manner.

Unfortunately for my brain, misogynistic, female-bashing rap music is one of my many guilty pleasures and I cannot stop listening to this song. Also unfortunately, it makes me really want to suck on a lollipop so I had to run down in the middle of the morning and buy this:


This is all Mr. Wayne's fault. Also, and I digress, this song makes me think of the Lollipop Guild of Munchkin Land in the Wizard of Oz, because Danny has a habit of requesting at the oddest moments that I sing the Lollipop Guild theme song (hopefully because I like lollipops and have a beautiful voice, and not because I am a munchkin). Also a digression, and your candy fact of the day: Salvador Dali designed the swirly Chupa Chup logo. True story. Unless you knew that already, this post just added to your stock of knowledge. So Mr. Wayne... I guess you're not so bad after all.

Cesc Fabregas is Devil's Food Cake

In honour of the close of Euro 2008 and tonight's hopefully epic Spain-Germany final...

The last food resemblance I will be revealing (for the foreseeable future/until the '08/'09 English Premier League season starts; try not to miss these comparisons too much), and the antithesis to Germany's angel cake:

My man Francesc Fabregas, and his culinary doppelganger, Devil's Food Cake.

Angel food cake vs. devil's food cake? I know, I know; it's like I do this on purpose. But that's the way the cookie crumbles (pat on the back for you if you saw what I did there), and I don't make this stuff up, I just highlight what is glaringly obvious to someone who has constantly has cake on the brain.

In my opinion (and blog), Devil's food cake trumps angel cake. In life (and football)... check the results of the Euro final.

VIVA ESPANA!

Bastian Schweinsteiger is Angel Food Cake

It took me longer to google how to spell Herr Schweinsteiger's name than find a photograph of the dessert that Bastian, in all his pasty, pallid glory, so clearly resembles.

Chocolate Swirl Cheesecake; Junior's Most Fabulous Cheesecake & Desserts, Times Square, New York

After Serendipity 3 I suffered cheesecake dreams, which were also interspersed with dreams featuring other foods, the most notable and heartrending of which were my McDonalds dreams in which I'd order a double cheeseburger McValue meal only to WAKE UP the moment I sat down and put the burger to my lips (I tend to speak in hyperbole, but I had this dream three times in a ROW, no joke; and woke up highly pissed off and hungry each time).

As a result I could not stop talking about cheesecake, and in an effort to shut me up and save his sanity, Danny took me to the place that boasts the best cheesecake in New York. While this proclamation is not quite on the same level as the Italian restaurant that boasts having "the best cannolis on planet Earth" (so Rest of Universe, if you want to compete cannoli-wise, game on: please contact the cannoli place in Little Italy), it was still pretty cocky.

Each bite was like being slapped in the face, albeit gently, with cream, cheese and calories. I am undecided on whether this is an insult or a compliment because I am undecided on whether a cake should make you feel so guilty when you eat it that you can't enjoy it properly. Because that also means it's tempting and forbidden, which increases its desirability. But this cheesecake was not just fat-inducing, it even physically looks Rubenesque.

Case and point:

Dessert; Serendipity 3, Upper East Side, New York

I have wanted to eat at this restaurant ever since I saw it in the movie Serendipity, which was a truly shiteous product of filmmaking, but the dessert scene during which John Cusack and Kate Beckinsale share a chocolate ice cream volcano and fall in love was inspiring and simultaneously spoke to my heart and stomach (not an easy feat).

INGREDIENTS:

A pretty menu (extra points for the swirly illustrations and creative food names: they have a chicken dish called A La Garden of Allah. Piqued my interest, but I decided it was mildly blasphemous and also I was too full)


... Doled out in massive proportions (the aforementioned menu was approximately 75% of my formidable 5 foot height span... which means it was... umm... okay you can do the math)


One Ice Cream Crepe (Danny's), which was not only swimming in whipped cream and fruit sauce but somehow evoked the impression of doing so while enjoying a cold lemonade on a blistering and cloudless summer day


One Strawberry Fields Sundae (mine), a gargantuan concoction of strawberries, strawberry ice cream, cheesecake, and whipped cream, which, with the exception of the strawberry ice cream, is a combination of some of my most favourite things in the world; topped with a dash of lyrical Beatle-esque inspiration in the sundae name


Eat for an hour (cappucino optional), promptly pass out upon finding nearest available bed, and you too will dream of strawberries tap dancing on cheesecake the whole night.

Pastries; Venieros, East Village, New York

It was as though I died and went to pastry heaven. I'm not even exaggerating. I almost cried tears of happiness and sheer wonder at the beauty of all the little pastries and how cute the shop was. It took me half an hour to decide what I wanted to eat, and the waiter must have wondered if I suffered from some kind of disease that causes me to drool incessantly to the point of being unable to articulate which pastry I wanted.

Chocolate covered Cannoli and Strawberry Tart, starring in a vaguely explicit photograph

The glorious menu that I spent half an hour reading because: i) I like reading, ii) I like reading about food, and iii) the entire menu listed and described each pastry and cake.

I didn't want to leave, ever, but I was getting sleepy from all the food. Goodbye Veniero's... you will always have a special place in my heart.

Brunch; Primorivo Osterio, West Village, New York

After making the bold and completely unprovoked claim that New York houses the best food in the world, Danny fell under some pressure to prove he wasn't just talking out of his ass. And then we had brunch in the West Village and all of a sudden it DID turn out to be true because I finished (honest-to-God licked-the-plate-squeaky-clean finished) my first meal in New York.

(Danny's) Steak & Eggs

(My) Eggs Norwegian

(NO MORE/Note the lack of) Eggs Norwegian

And someone is addicted to cappucinos and won't admit it...

And someone else is addicted to desserts (Strawberry & Banana Sponge Cake) and will readily admit it because this was the most moist, succulent sponge cake I have ever had in my life.

Brunch; Diva, Soho, New York

Who has tiramisu with brunch? I DO, and don't judge, I'm on vacation and it was very stressful watching the Spain-Sweden game.



(My) Mozzarella Omelette

(Danny's) Blueberry Waffles

Pretty tiramisu

Angelo's, Little Italy, New York

The Italians know how to make their desserts (they also know how to make their steaks, which is the reason we are conspicuously missing pictures of the dinner that preceded the dessert. I was too hungry to even try to take a picture)...


(My) Chocolate mousse

(Danny's) Cannoli