The Last (Caramel) Apple

Caramel Apple Cake


I meant to take a photo on Sunday while I was capturing the above cake. A photo of my yard. It was the first time I really looked at it since autumn had begun. I thought I had missed the foliage this year, complaining of under-tinted trees and lots of yellow but little blush. But then I looked into my yard, on October 28th, and I saw trees afire. I hadn’t sat down, I hadn’t taken a break to notice until October 28th. My attention stolen by the cake, though, I didn’t snap that shot. It was just my backyard. It didn’t really matter.

One day later and those leaves were dead. Gone. Washed away by Sandy, the East Coast storm that came and went. Ordered to stay home from work, I sat, trying to be productive, as I heard those leaves flapping one by one from the branches damp and brown and ripped at the veins. I was hypersensitive. I felt fall’s end, taken not, coincidentally, by a cold winter breeze or a Halloween snow storm (like last year) but by a tropical front: muggy air, bands of flooding rain, branch-stripping winds.

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Power Lunching

sportello


Fort Point is now home to some lunchtime giants. I know first hand that a swooping line of hungry nine to fivers occupies Flour without end from 11-3. Their patience comes from visions of tender lamb sandwiched with spunky-sweet chutney, a palm-sized oreo cookie, and a seltzer to wash it all down. The queue at Channel Café is similarly long and proof that Fort Pointers just don’t pack lunches. Why would they? For those looking for a real power hour, though, Sportello is sit-down chic with its lunch counter style and all. It’s mod and clean, almost stark in its whiteness, but somehow the space also proves warm and charming with its friendly (and very “Boston”) servers, place mat menus and casual, up-close and personal open kitchen. Sure, there’s a “takeout” bakery in the same space, but if you have the time, the counter experience makes the meal.

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On Pigs and Figs

With my dad hailing from the holy land of the fig (the Middle East), it was my ancestral duty to finally make it to the new bakery/café right on Highland Ave in Somerville that has the sweet fruit in its name. As you might guess, 3 Little Figs is all in the family. From the name and locale to the size, decor and staff, this place is cute as a button. If I owned a bakery it would be nearly identical to 3 Little Figs: the space is small but airy and bright, the decor is shabby-chic without an emphasis on one over the other, production is done on a small scale, the menu is modest but complete. There are even hanging lighting fixtures made of what look like old Hobart mixer whisk attachments. How cute is that?

I spent last Saturday Christmas shopping and wanted to quell my afternoon hunger with something that screamed “holiday.” I couldn’t think of anything, but I knew that 3 Little Figs uses local and seasonal ingredients, so I could find something savory and sweet that at least screamed “winter.” 3 Little Figs delivered. I felt fantastically festive and frightfully full after leaving, and that’s all I wanted.

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A Sweet and Salty Surprise (in more ways than one)

A Sweet and Salty Surprise (in more ways than one)

sweet and salty cake

I want to keep this blog current, writing about recipes shortly after they’ve been made and enjoyed. I think writing is more authentic that way. But, you see, this particular cake was so indulgently far from the quotidian dessert that it is most definitely first post worthy, even if it was made in February when I apparently didn’t know how to use a camera.

Sometimes, food can inspire journeys. I fit squarely among the “live to eat-ers,” planning vacations around food destinations since I was twelve. I’d much rather stand in line for two hours to get into a diner in San Francisco than take the ferry to Alcatraz. When I want French toast, informational tours can wait. If any food item can inspire a journey, it’s this cake. This outrageously decadent, time-consuming, sophisticated but playful cake.

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