But a year and a half ago, when I was making croissants and gougeres for L’Etoile’s Saturday market café, I met a then fellow baker, Gail Ambrosius.
Here’s a sad thought: since our time together baking at L’Etoile, Gail has commandeered her passions (for chocolate making) and is now establishing herself as (I think) one of this country’s leading chocolatiers...
...at the same time that I have commandeered my passions (for writing) and am now establishing myself as an eccentric small-time blogger, restlessly surviving life in a Midwestern university town. Impressive.
Ah well, had I been born as Nina Chevre, I may have tried my hand at making goat cheeses. Nina Lewandowska? Slated to marry and settle in America, land of opportunity for hookin' up with someone with a nice, short last name. Timing is of essence: I needed to get to it early, before historic forces would pressure me to keep “my own” (i.e. my father’s) name and not offer, instead, a chance to flee from the oppressive and wicked fate of having such a horribly long and unattractive last name.
I had told Gail when she was just getting going with her chocolate passion a year ago that I would stop by and take a look at her chocolate making facility. Okay, so it took me a while to actually visit her there (I finally showed up this morning), but in the interim, I have been sampling her goods (now sold in Madison at Steve’s Liquor and Café Soleil, as well as through the Net here). If you have never eaten one of her truffles, you are no true chocolate hound. Don’t even pretend.
Gail merges flavors in ways few have dared. Her finest (in my opinion): maharajah curry with saffron in a dark Dominican chocolate; earl grey tea sprinkles with organic lavender buds in a Venezuelan chocolate; peony and rose tea also in a Venezuelan dark; and special for this holiday season: a dense dark chocolate with cranberry and meyer lemon. That’s MEYER lemon and if you’ve never sucked on a MEYER lemon then you are a babe in foodie explorations and should rush to your nearest purveyor while the season lasts.
But first, try one of these, made by the queen of the dark, heavenly stuff:
earl grey tea and lavender buds
cranberry and Meyer lemon
Gail
my own box, traveling with me for the holidays
I hope you paid her for that box of chocolates.
ReplyDeleteWhat would you make if law school weren't holding you back? Lena's Pierogi with Wisconsin Boar? Or?
ReplyDeleteJosh
OK, now I have to come to Madison to try these, because shipping chocolates to Arizona is dicey even in the dead of winter.
ReplyDeleteI have the small consolation of Meyer lemon tree growing in my side yard. It is so covered with fruit the limbs are practically touching the ground. They're just starting to ripen now... mmmmm
Maybe by the time the lemons are ripe it will be safe to order chocolates!
They really are superior chocolates. The kind where you don't have to eat that much, because the flavor combinations and textures are so amazing. And believe me, I can seriously pack it away.
ReplyDeleteYeah, the chocolates look pretty good . . . but . . . Lewandowska??? Why haven't I heard your maiden name before? It's not like I haven't wondered why you changed your name when you married. But I guess I never asked what you changed it from. Lewandowska. Hmmm. I like it.
ReplyDeletefaruka: nothing in my maiden name implies that I am a shyster or a sponger. Poles pay for their stuff and then some.
ReplyDeletejosh: I'd write about (and photograph)the art and life of others. Cooking for anonymous diners proved not nearly as satisfying as I imagined. That's why I quit moonlighting at l'Etoile.
joan: send me your address and hold your breath.
ang: send me your address and hold your breath.
tonya: send me your address... oh, I have it memorized actually. And no, nice as you are, you cannot convince me that my father's name (and thus my maiden name) are worth all those letters.