I'm a TCHO Beta Taster!

I fell in love with TCHO and their chocolates while vacationing in San Francisco a few years ago. Just think about it - a company founded by Silicon Valley entrepreneurs who love food as well as technology, and want to make the best chocolate possible. The belief that chocolate, like wine, can reflect its source material's unique terroir as a result of thoughtful processing. Faith in loyal customers' palates and the proven results of iterative development processes. What's not to love? Since that vacation, I've kept the love alive with the occasional online order, in-person purchases at Starbucks and Cardullo's (back when those retailers carried Tcho, sigh), and now, most recently, helping to develop a forthcoming milk chocolate / coffee fusion bar! This project was called the TchoJoe Beta. (Joe for coffee, get it?) Us eager participants, in delightfully punny fashion, were Beta Tasters!

So, how did this Beta work? (FYI: I'm a project manager at a technology company, so please excuse any process-related nerd-outs.)

TCHO sent three shipments of Beta chocolates (0.4, 0.6, and 0.8), each with two distinct bars (A and B), over the course of two months. The bars were packaged in simplistic brown paper, with Tcho's logo and the specific Beta version printed on the outside. The individual bars were good-sized, only slightly smaller than a production TCHO bar, with six chocolate squares each. After receiving and tasting each shipment, Beta Tasters entered feedback on the bars online, responding to prompts and questions such as:

• General Tasting Notes (free text)
• Flavors Noted (checkboxes)
• How is the overall balance? (dropdown)
• How is the finish? (dropdown)
• Rate this bar. (radio buttons)
• Which bar did you prefer, A or B, and why? (dropdown, free text)
• Describe the preferred bar in 5 words or less. (free text)
• What would you name the preferred bar? (free text)

I appreciate the mix of reportable data points and individualized feedback, though I'm worried that my best and strongest commentary couldn't be conveyed via the predefined inputs. Oh, I should probably mention the tasting instructions. Each online feedback form reminded us of all that had to happen pre-documentation! And I quote:

"Be prepared: (1) Try not eat anything strongly seasoned or especially spicy before tasting. (2) Find a quiet, calm place. Reducing distractions so you can focus just on your palate is surprisingly beneficial to really tasting, instead of just eating. (3) Keep a glass of warm water nearby to cleanse your palate.

Taste like a pro: (1) Break off one square. (2) Place the chocolate in your mouth [duh]. (3) Try closing your eyes to reduce distractions and help focus your senses. (4) Chew just a few times, then let the chocolate melt and linger on your tongue. [Your stomach doesn't have any tastebuds!] (5) Recognize the different flavor notes appearing throughout the tasting process – beginning, middle, end, and aftertaste. (6) Take your time and don't move on to the next chocolate too quickly. (7) Have fun!"

Like I said earlier, LOVE.

The times I set aside to do my tastings really did feel special. I've condensed my feedback on each iteration below, sharing my General Tasting Notes along with each shipment's comparison commentary.

0.4 A

I'm struck by how unusual the "milk" aspect of the milk chocolate is - it's surprisingly tart, like sour cream. This is well balanced by some sweet caramel notes, and the chocolate overall feels nice and smooth. The coffee's abrasive at first, though. It tastes burnt and smoky up front. It evened out through the tasting process, and mostly disappeared by the end.

0.4 B

This is a very subtle bar - delightfully smooth, creamy milk chocolate, with no particularly overwhelming flavors (caramel, sugar, etc). It would be a great canvas/background for a more robust flavor addition, but the coffee's not present enough for me. I notice a hint of roasted coffee taste at the end of the tasting cycle, but if I didn't know that was supposed to be coffee I probably would have guessed the flavor came from roasted hazelnuts or chestnuts.

0.4 Comparison

I preferred Version B. While I loved the milk chocolate formulation used in Version A, its overwhelming burnt coffee flavor really turned me off. So, I would rather snack on some B, as it is more balanced and is closer to the kind of coffee flavor I like. Want a suggestion? Take the chocolate from A, and incorporate B's coffee into it - only use three times as much coffee as you used in B.

- The Five Words: good, but playing it safe

- The Name: Buzz

0.6A

The milk chocolate is really great - it has some of the tanginess that I loved about version 0.4A, as if it were inspired by a nice, tart chocolate creme brulee. The coffee's better this time around, very robust and roasty up front (in a way that reminds me of a warm cup in front of a ski-lodge fire, mmm) but nowhere near burnt. The flavor changes a bit over time, getting a tad more bitter as the bar melts, and ending with a flat note I'm finding hard to describe, almost like the aroma of wet paper towels.

0.6B

This has a good-enough baseline milk chocolate, but it doesn't pique my interest/curiosity like other Tchocolates have. Also, the coffee is nearly nonexistent. Instead, I detect raisin notes as soon as the chocolate starts to melt, maybe with a hint of toasted nuts. The aftertaste is raisin-y, too.

0.6 Comparison

I preferred Version A. A is tasty up front, and remains (mostly) tasty as I eat it. It's complex, and therefore gets me thinking and paying really close attention. I still can't get over how full-bodied and unique the chocolate is. B is blah by comparison. The chocolate just seems average, and I don't like the flavor notes I manage to detect. (Disclaimer: this is the girl who can't stand oatmeal raisin cookies, and considers brownies with nuts a crime against humanity.)

- The Five Words: eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile.

- The Name: Crema

0.8A

The milk chocolate in version A, with its creamy tanginess, continues to be excellent - but the non-chocolate flavors of this version have changed, and not to my liking. The bar smells of raisins and figs - or rather, a compote containing those fruits - at first, and then tastes like something woody, bitter, and even a tad metallic. The aftertaste mellows out a bit, which I like, and makes me think of sweet port. But, where's the coffee? I miss the coffee, and am so confused.

0.8B

I wasn't sure what to expect upon smelling version B's port-y aroma, but this bar came through for me! The milk chocolate has evolved from past Bs so that it more closely approximates A's consistent tanginess, but this seems a hint sweeter. Love! The coffee flavor is assertive at first bite but then calms down, with occasional flavor jolts causing me to perk up. There's a hint of roastedness about the coffee, but it's not overwhelming. The finish is smooth and sweet, almost like caramel.

0.8 Comparison

I preferred Version B. B is extremely close to being your TchoJoe bar. The coffee and chocolate flavors are well-balanced, and its consistency - both in terms of texture and taste - hasn't yet been matched.

- The Five Words: A solid caramel mocha. Yum!

- The Name: Crema (again. almost went with Jolt, but the name needs to convey mood as well as taste)

Whew. That was a lot of chocolate...and a lot of fun!

I really enjoyed following the characteristics throughout the iterations - for example, how Version A's interestingly tangy milk chocolate remained a fixture of each A bar and finally asserted itself in the last B bar, as well as the progressive introduction of dried fruit notes in the later bars. I was continually surprised at the coffee flavor throughout these bars, since it was never as...accurate?...as I would have expected. Maybe since we were dealing with milk chocolate, instead of a higher-percent-cacao formulation, the chocolate makers didn't want to be as assertive or obvious with the coffee? Who knows. Overall, 0.6A and 0.8B were my favorites - the former, because of its standout milk chocolate and strong coffee; the latter, due to its near-perfect balance. I can't wait to see what characteristics made it through to the final product, which Beta Tasters will receive shortly.

I mentioned above that each Beta bar had six squares. I only used two squares for each tasting, and have saved the remainders. My plan, once the ultimate TchoJoe arrives, is to do a vertical tasting of all the iterations alongside the production release. Stay tuned for a review of that endeavor!

Custom "Treats"

This city dweller rarely gets to enjoy suburban bakery delights. So, I was excited to try custom cupcakes from Needham's Treat Cupcake Bar, which a colleague brought into work for my boss' baby shower!

I was instantly blown away by the cupcakes' appearance. They were all quite massive, and were topped in equally massive buttercream frosting bears! Here's a picture of a chocolate cupcake, followed by a close-up of its cheerful frosting friend.

I couldn't wait to see whether their taste would live up to their decoration!

We had four cake flavors to choose from: chocolate, vanilla, carrot, and red velvet. The cupcakes were so large that we cut them in pieces; as a result, I was able to sample the first three flavors. (I've never been a fan of red velvet.) The chocolate and vanilla cakes were definitely better than average! The chocolate cake was a rich dessert made possible with lots of bittersweet cocoa powder. The vanilla cake reminded me of pound cake, with its creamy, dense texture and strong buttery flavor. Both cakes were moist throughout, though their edges were a bit dry. The carrot cake, on the other hand, was not so noteworthy. I would have called it a bland spice cake with the occasional token piece of shredded carrot - nothing like the robust and hearty mash-up I look for in a proper carrot cake.

The frosting, while beyond cute, tasted a bit...off. It was buttery to a fault, and I'm positive I could taste salt - maybe its base was salted butter? I think Treat took the concept of "buttercream" to an extreme that wasn't necessary. Its texture was light and airy, which was a relief considering the sheer amount of the stuff topping each cake! I couldn't imagine eating a denser version of this frosting, which probably would have been like chewing on a stick of butter. One big plus to the frosting's quantity is that no bite of cake had to go without; the optimal cake-frosting ratio, so often achieved by removing a cupcake's bottom half, required no custom engineering. Of course, I would have appreciated that more if I really enjoyed the frosting.

I wouldn't refuse an opportunity to have more Treats. After all, one look at their menu will get anyone salivating, and seriously, they call their venture a cupcake bar! However, I'll know that not all cakes are created equal, and that less is more when it comes to their basic buttercream frosting.

A New Hampshire Easter

Happy belated Easter, friends! I thought I'd share a few treats from my holiday at home.

To start, the Easter Bunny was very generous - again! - this year. I've written before about how I absolutely love the Easter color palette, so resplendent with whites and pastels and soft metallics. This close-up of my Easter basket should convince you, too, to love these spring shades. The candy, of course, is wonderful, sourced from the Midwest's beloved Fannie May chocolatier. (Once my family establishes a food tradition, it's hard to unseat it, even if it's been over 18 years since we lived where FM was readily available. Thank you, Internets!)

Next up was the Easter breakfast. Ina Garten's enthusiastically citrusy lemon cake made a repeat appearance, and I think this was its best year yet! I was nervous to bake it at first, since my parents just installed a new oven; while my mom testified to the oven's capabilities, already producing such classics as a chicken pot pie and from-scratch brownies without a hitch in its week of existence, I was afraid my contribution would go awry. Fortunately, it didn't. Why do I love this cake so?

• The recipe makes two loaves. So much dessert, indeed! This allows me to bring several breakfasts' worth of cake back to Boston, while leaving my family with the same.
• It uses the zest of eight lemons. A citrus lover's dream.
• It has two lemon-sugar glazes! The first is a warm sauce made of heated lemon juice and dissolved granulated sugar; it is poured over the cakes as soon as they are removed from their loaf pans. The sauce sinks into the porous loaves and infuses them with moist, tangy, citrusy joy. Then, once they have cooled, they are coated with the second glaze. This traditional decoration, of much confectioners' sugar mixed in significantly less lemon juice, covers the cakes' surfaces in solid white, almost like fondant. It has a bright, sweet, concentrated lemon flavor.

The overall effect is one of increasing lemon intensity. The base of the cake is light and fluffy, with a definite lemon presence from all that zest - but, it's still comparatively dainty, and perfect for tea. As you move up the cake, you encounter more of the sugared lemon juice; it makes the cake moister, chewier, and stronger. The very top of the cake is thoroughly soaked in the juice, and then crowned with the fondant-esque glaze for the most robust lemon experience yet. I always save the top bites for last, never tiring of their cheerful citrus zing. That flavor conquers anything else near your palate, even a cup of strongly-brewed Royal Blend!

Never one to be still when there is an excuse for extravagant baking, I did not begin and end my Easter exploits with Ina. It was time to work on the Easter dessert...with Joanne.

My family had fallen into a habit of ordering gourmet cakes from California bakeries as our holiday desserts, with Easter being the latest casualty (after Christmas succumbed to this ravishing buche de Noel). My desire to bake, plus a fortuitous outing to Flour's Fort Point location, changed that for 2012. I ate a carrot cake cupcake at that Flour, loved it, and excitedly found the recipe for the equivalent cake in Flour's cookbook. It took hardly any effort to persuade my parents to let Perfect Endings lie, and grant me a mission in its place.

What a mission it was! Carrot cakes are always time-intensive, but Joanne's recipe - like any good kitchen challenge! - let me try and see new things. Here are some observations.

• The recipe asks for token amounts of spices. I added significantly more of each spice per usual custom, and the cake absorbed them without any trouble. Heck. I could have quadrupled the cinnamon and everything would have still turned out alright! I like a cake that can soak up so much flavor.
• I used pre-chopped walnuts. Enough said.
• I left out the raisins (so gross!), and swapped in the equivalent volume of grated carrots. There's no such thing as too many carrots in a carrot cake.
• You bake the entire cake in one 8" round cake pan. This pan is filled to the brim when you put it in the oven, and looks as though it might spill over while baking its (oddly lengthy) 1 hour and 20 minutes. Fortunately, no spillover occurred - though the final product was also level with the pan's rim.
• The baked cake is probably the densest dessert I have ever made.
• You split the cooled cake into two layers. Baked-good surgery, anyone?! It turns out that all you need to perform this invasive procedure are a quality bread knife, a steady hand, and careful rotation of the cake in question.
• The frosting is a simple mix of cream cheese, butter, and confectioner's sugar. I believe the desired effect is barely-sweetened cream cheese; the ingredients' proportions definitely accomplish this, but I would have preferred a sweeter, more traditional frosting. If I want a cream cheese spread, I'll leave the butter and sugar to the side, and pick up a bagel instead of a cake. (It did taste much better with the cake than by itself, though.)
• The recipe suggests chilling the frosting for 2-3 hours before spreading it. I found that was entirely too much refrigeration; I had to let the frosting warm up for an hour or so post-chilling before it was comfortably usable.
• The split and frosted cake ends up looking pretty close to a "normal" two-layer cake. I was pleasantly surprised! (And anyway, two "full" layers of this cake would have been too much, so I'm glad it passed as is.)

Here's a slice of the cake, followed by what was left after Easter dinner.

Like I mentioned above, the cake's density may be its most noteworthy characteristic. So much is crammed in that one (split) layer that what's normally considered a small-ish slice is actually rather filling. The same could be said about its flavors - in a single tiny bite, you can taste the freshness of the carrots, the roastiness of the toasted walnuts, the warmth of the brown sugar, and the depth of the extravagant spices. Those flavors, in all their variety and richness, remind me of the seasons, which may be why carrot cake always seems like a timely dessert. (Of course, we exploit the carrot content for Easter/spring.) The texture stands out, too - it's extremely gooey and moist thanks to canola oil and buttermilk, but still cake-like. My only complaint, or area of potential improvement, is the frosting. I'm glad it'll be easy enough to just add more confectioner's sugar to the mix next time, and maybe a hint of vanilla extract, too. Here's to yet another sweet success courtesy of Flour!

If you want to see the actual recipe, I cannot recommend the Flour cookbook enough.

I hope you enjoyed a similarly delicious and fulfilling Easter! Are there any particular treats you'd rave about?

Winter Restaurant Week 2012

I tried three new-to-me eateries this Restaurant Week!

Katie and I kicked off the festivities by going to Tremont 647. I try to get to a different South End venue each time, and one look at the menu - the restaurant's full menu, in fact, made available as a RW deal - made the decision to come here easy. Once we arrived, we were instantly comfortable - the restaurant's windows were thrown open to let in the unexpectedly warm Boston spring air, and we got seated at a plush, high booth with diners on one side, and regulars of the bustling South End bar scene on the other. The food added to the cozy, funky vibe.

This was the most indulgent comfort-food meal I have ever had. I started off with their famous lobster mac, receiving an entree-sized portion of my life's latest contender for best man 'n' cheese. The pasta was soft and chewy, with plenty of large, tender lobster chunks mixed in. The cheddar mornay sauce coating it all was heavenly - it had a consistently creamy, cheesy texture and sharp taste, but enough extra cheese was present so that each bite was positively dripping in the gooey stuff, with strands linking it back to the main dish. That entire dish was then covered in crumbled Ritz crackers! The look was unusual, but it worked quite well - buttery, salty crackers go well with cream and cheese. I then had a grass-fed beef burger for my entree, though I was so nearly full thanks to that cheesy appetizer that most of the burger came home. It was a pleasant hunk of beef, topped with cheddar cheese and bacon and served on a chewy brioche bun. I spread house-made ketchup and spicy "secret sauce" all over it, leaving only a little of each condiment left for the fries. I ate very few fries to save room for what was coming. I needed all the room I could get for Tremont 647's epically large and delicious dessert, a brownie sundae made of a chocolate cherry brownie, popcorn ice cream, candied peanuts, and plenty of chocolate and caramel sauce. Wow! The chocolate brownie was very dense and fudgy, and had large, fresh cherry pieces baked throughout. (No Maraschinos here, phew!) The ice cream tasted like Cracker Jacks, and that peanuts-and-caramel theme was reinforced by the toppings. There was plenty of sauce to swirl and coat each delicious brownie/ice-cream bite, so I really got to enjoy each aspect of this dessert over and over again. I like how a common dessert was taken up a notch with unique interpretations of traditional components - after all, have you ever seen cherries in a brownie as opposed to topping the sundae, or ice cream flavored like a snack whose texture and use case is so opposite from ice cream's? I hadn't. Tremont 647 gets a full endorsement for creativity...and, of course, taste.

BONUS ROUND: We went to 28 Degrees after, where we got to sample the bar's vodka offerings in...several ways. Katie has an amusing summary of that outing available for your reading pleasure! Let's just say that we "enjoyed" multiple free drinks, this delicious bread pudding, and forthcoming dry-cleaning reimbursements.

Erbaluce is the very definition of a hidden gem. Tucked away in the Bay Village neighborhood, with an unassuming exterior, and surrounded by bigger and bolder offerings, it would be easy to pass by this little restaurant. I don't recommend doing that, though. Erbaluce has the freshest, most creative Italian food I've had in Boston, and a charming interior and friendly waitstaff to boot! The space is warm and snug, with a small terra cotta bar, minimally elegant but comfortable furnishings, and soft lighting augmented with plenty of candles. The feel is homey and intimate. The staff speak in gentle tones and serve with a smile. And oh, the food! Erbaluce prides itself on sourcing only local, organic ingredients for its dishes, and the fresh, pure taste of such ingredients really comes through in the cooking. They also abstain from butter and cream, letting oil and herbs bring out their ingredients' popping natural flavors. I loved everything about being there. So, what did Greg and I eat?

The bread course - a large, dense hunk of focaccia with oil and herbed bean paste for dipping - was sizable enough to be an appetizer. My "second" appetizer was three wild boar and veal meatballs in a tomato parmesan sauce. Wild boar is such a flavorful meat, and I love the tender mouthfeel of veal, so I thoroughly enjoyed these little nuggets. I'm pretty sure some oregano and other herbs were mixed in the meatballs, too, adding even more flavor depth. The tomato parmesan sauce was light and tangy, and plentiful enough to coat each bite of meat! Homemade herbed fusilli pasta - did I mention that Erbaluce makes all their pastas?! - tossed in oil with butternut squash, tomato, basil, and parmesan made for a stunning main course. The long, tightly twirled pasta was thick and chewy. Its herbed, doughy flavor was subtle, but still more noticeable than any other pasta flavor I've had. The vegetable accompaniments were cut small and served soft, and the whole dish was topped with a flurry of parmesan gratings, shavings, and flakes. Overall, the dish was hearty but not heavy, fresh, and tasty. I would use similar words to characterize my dessert, a chocolate tortella in a phyllo dough shell topped with sour cherries and creme fraiche. The phyllo dough was forgettable, with its dry flaky pieces confusing the dessert's otherwise smooth and pleasing texture. The tortella itself, though, was really interesting. Imagine a creamy, tangy, bittersweet chocolate mousse, that managed to be more fluid than a typical mousse but somehow denser as well. The creme fraiche dollop was cool, sweet by comparison, and refreshing, and provided a good canvas for the assertive sour fruit dropped on top. Those tart cherries were chewy and bursting with juice. Lastly, the whole thing was drizzled in a sour cherry sauce and potent wildflower honey. The honey reminded me of the most unusual and delicious honey I've ever tasted, from raspberry flowers in Napa Valley - though this must have been a locally-sourced equivalent.

I look forward to revisiting Erbaluce and sampling something off their regular menu...and maybe even stomaching my own mushroom honey flip as opposed to stealing sips of Greg's!

BONUS ROUND: We grabbed a drink at Sunset after, and while I enjoyed my Boulevard Tank 7 farmhouse ale, I was more excited to see White Birch beers on tap! I'll get some next time I'm there. Support New Hampshire microbrewing, friends, and order a pint of White Birch today!

Chris and I decided late in the game to fit in a Restaurant Week dinner, at which point preexisting reservations prevented our first choices - so we settled on Brasserie Jo, a French monstrosity in the Colonnade Hotel. I'm always eager to try French restaurants, because I hope I'll find one, someday, that helps me comprehend the world's obsession with French food. Jo, alas, was not that restaurant. The brasserie vibe that I usually love was attempted to tacky excess here, with tiled floors, harsh fluorescent lighting, and ten times as many clattering dishes/utensils to serve/eat any given course than you actually need. At least the courses weren't tacky or excessive, just average.

My appetizer was gnocchi with beef cheek, Brussels sprouts, and mandarin oranges. The gnocchi was stiff on the outside, but soft and gooey on the inside, almost like mashed potatoes. I loved the texture and taste of the gnocchi itself, but so much tarragon was used to season it that I was somewhat put off. The beef cheek was dry and tough, but the sprouts and orange slices tasted as expected. I had coq au vin for dinner, which was better and worse than past versions of this dish sampled elsewhere. The noodles were a definite improvement over the usual egg noodles one gets, reminding me of oh-so-tasty German spaetzle. The chicken, though, was dark and stringy, and the Burgundy sauce that I dolloped over it all was thick and gelatinous. So, not a winner - but less frustrating than the other options (lamb steak or barley risotto) would have been. Then, I ate the molten chocolate cake with raspberry chocolate ice cream for dessert. I know, I know, someone with dessert "cred" shouldn't be ordering that ubiquitous cake - but if you understood how non-Julie the alternatives were (banana crumble or cappuccino pot de creme), you would forgive me. I actually liked this dessert a lot! The molten item itself was like the best possible ice-cream-topping fudge encased in a thin layer of devil's-food cake. It was big, too, which this chocoholic appreciated. The ice cream was subtly berry-flavored, with a creamy milk chocolate base and semisweet chocolate chips taking center stage. A squirt of whipped cream topped it all off, and the sum total of these parts was rather suggestive of a brownie sundae. (Hmm, do I detect a theme in this RW's dessert orders?) This pleasant surprise was the best part of this final RW meal.

BONUS ROUND: We had drinks at Back Bay Social Club before, and I was so impressed with my libation that it, not any of the food, was "the find" of the night! The mix of vodka, ginger liqueur, honey, lemon, and champagne float was called the Winter Social, but its taste and refreshing quality screamed of summer. Here's hoping BBSC keeps it on the menu in the warm months, though it would have to be under a different name.

Wow, that was a lot of food...and drink! Here's to smaller, but no less delicious, meals as I readjust to normal eating. The desserts can stay huge, though. :-)