Bretagne Is for (Caramel) Lovers

Duck Fat Caramels


I was in Brittany once, but I can’t tell you too much about it. My French host family took me to Vannes, a commune in the Morbihan department, after a very early sweat-and-alcohol-soaked morning with my “sister” Aurélie and her friends at the discothèque. I was 16 years old.

The family must have told me where we were going, but even though the Visine made me look awake, I most certainly was not. And so, I didn’t know where we were until I saw the region’s reed-roofed houses out the car window. I failed to take in the scenery; my main focus was trying not to vom all over the back seat. That would have been just too horrifically American. The drive wasn’t long—I’d say about an hour and a half from the family’s home in the Haye-Fouassière commune of the Loire-Atlantique. (In fact, the Loire-Atlantique was a Breton territory pre-Vichy France.) But it was very uncomfortable, as I undoubtably smelled like a combination of some Jacques-ass’s armpits and the inside of the thong that I found stuck to my shoe as I walked out of the club hours earlier.

Brittany was so wonderfully Brittany that it was almost a parody of itself. We walked down Vannes center’s cobblestone streets, which were lined with medieval, wood-paneled buildings and dotted with vendors skillfully flipping lacy buckwheat crêpes. When we’d arrived, like clockwork, the bagadoù, a traditional Breton band of bagpipers, marched through the square, and children, playing tag or swinging wooden yo-yos, squealed and ran to the side to allow for their procession. It felt a lot like that scene from my favorite of the 1970s Rankin-Bass stop-motion TV Christmas movies, Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town, in which the children playing in the streets scurry away to allow for the Burgermeister’s passing, except the scene in Brittany was much happier and less German.

Continue reading

Truffles, Two Ways

chocolate truffles & tartufi


Ah, Valentine’s Day, the most polarizing holiday on the calendar. I was tempted to evade the topic. While I no longer mark the holiday in my planner with squiggly red hearts and pink balloons like I did as a child, I can’t say I’m a vehement opponent. I see myself as more of a flip flopper; my feelings vis-à-vis V-Day change from one year to another and are typically dictated by my mood.

Love’s got nothing to do with it. I distinctly remember my first year of college, when all was fresh and new and I found it necessary to celebrate every holiday with naïve gusto with new friends in a new environment. I made up bags of candy and wore black and orange on Halloween. I decked my dorm out in lights, ribbons and intricate, handmade construction paper decorations as soon as I returned from Thanksgiving. And Valentine’s Day followed suit. I handed out thoughtful little, 2×3 inch cards to single friends and dug out a red floral shirt from my otherwise monochrome closet. How spirited I was!

My cynicism has climbed exponentially since then. Another year during college, I had so many exams for which to study that I matched my Valentine’s Day outlook to my mood, donning all black to silently castigate any silly holiday that could possibly break my concentration. I was an intellectual, after all! All I needed was a beret on my head and a poetry slam to attend.

Continue reading

A Liddabit for the Sweet Tooth


Now that I’ve been writing for this blog for over a month, it’s probably time that I get this out in the open. I guess I’m kind of an ingredient snob. Ok, I don’t like the word “snob.” I’m just very conscious of the ingredients present in the foods I buy and make. I grew up eating very fresh food. We skimped on other “less important” things in order to make meals that were, well, real.

When home cooked meals were swapped for dining hall duds (thank God that’s over), I really started paying attention to the quality of all things edible. I’m really not radical or preachy (although, my friends might beg to differ). Sure, I pass on preservative-packed supermarket slices of bread and cheese, but I also haven’t started substituting agave for corn syrup in the few dessert recipes that call for it. By subscribing to this philosophy, I feel like every bite I take is worthwhile and, frankly, more tasty.

For years, my candy consumption was limited to a few delicious goodies: Fran’s sea salt caramels, Green and Black bars, and anything homemade, of course. And when Halloween came around, I rarely indulged in those fun-sized artificial nuggets that I passed out. Then, I heard about Liddabit Sweets, a company, or should I say, a two-woman operation, working out of Brooklyn and selling creative confections and offering new takes on classic candies. Everything is scratch-made by pastry chefs Jen and Liz (along with a VERY small staff), and ingredients are organic when possible. I checked out their website and fell into a sugar comma before even having purchased and tasted anything.

Continue reading