Journey to Levain

When I was in New York, a friend told me I had to visit Levain Bakery on 74th Street for the best cookies in the city.

So one afternoon, I traveled with another friend of mine across the city to the Upper Westside just for a taste. We had Google Maps as our navigator. And it brought us to our destination, but to our dismay, it was just a another street of suburban apartments. There was no cookie shop in sight. We walked the whole stretch, scouting for a cafe or deli that read "Levain Bakery" to no avail.

We even walked the next block and refreshed Google Maps several times to be sure. It led us back to that street. Still no sign of the bakery. 

Frustrated and tired, we were just about to visit the neighboring streets for cookies, when I spotted it. 

There it was, framed in blue, a tiny little shop sandwiched between other colorful apartments. It was easily mistaken for another house. If not for the sign painted in mustard yellow across the glass window, I wouldn't have noticed it. 

So we walked in and to our surprise, there were only four kinds of pastries on sale and all of them were cookies: chocolate chip walnut, oatmeal raisin, dark chocolate chip and dark chocolate peanut butter chip. I suppose the bakery sells a variety of other pastries but I must have gone right before it closed, so everything else was sold out apart from the cookies. It worked out well though, because I'd traveled a half hour from the other side of the city just to taste the famous cookies.

My friend I each bought a dark chocolate peanut butter chip cookie.

It cost no more than $5 per cookie. I guess we both underestimated it. We thought we could finish the cookie ourselves. 

But no. It wasn't an ordinary cookie. It was huge. I cradled it in its white paper bag as we left the shop, feeling its warmth in my palms. It actually weighed a lot heavier than most cookies.

It was a massive slab of dark chocolate, embedded with peanut butter chips. Biting into it, I realized I had never tasted anything quite as good. It was soft and chewy with a hint of saltiness from the peanut butter, but drenched in rich sweetness from the chocolate.

The warmth of the dark chocolate dough melted the peanut butter chips, a creamy brown filing that curled out of its cookie cage, luring me in for another bite.

This was supposed to be a pre-dinner snack. But the cookie stole our appetite. Halfway through my treat, my stomach told me to stop. I was getting full. Really, really full. 

"This thing itself can be a meal!" my friend joked.

But she was right. It could. And maybe some people actually made it a meal. A substitute for a sandwich, or a plate of rice. A sweet, delicious, chocolatey and peanut-buttery substitute.

Our journey to Levain Bakery was worth it.

Photographed and written by Carissa Gan.

Pinkberry

Dish: Mango froyo topped with chocolate sauce, dark chocolate crisps and strawberries.

Venue: Pinkberry, New York

When I was in New York this summer, I met up with two guys I hadn't seen in three years, AG and Rain. It was a hot summer afternoon and we were craving something cold and sweet. So, they took me to Pinkberry for frozen yogurt (froyo). 

Pinkberry originated in West Hollywood, California in 2005. It burgeoned across the country and the globe, with more than 200 stores worldwide. Prior to this, I'd only seen delicious photographs of Pinkberry yogurts on my Tumblr dashboard. So to be standing in line in an authentic Pinkberry store that afternoon was a moment to remember.

Clean photographs of the six yogurt flavors were pinned on the glassy wall: original, pomegranate, chocolate, peanut butter, strawberry and mango. AG said the mango yogurt was the best. While waiting our turn, we talked about eating and living healthy - he told me about his trips to the gym and his vegetable diets, which I really admired but secretly knew I couldn't do. But anyway, we agreed that for the sake of our bodies, we'd try to keep our yogurts as simple and fat-free as possible. 

At the counter, I asked for a small mango yogurt.

"And what toppings would you like?" the cashier asked. "You can pick two kinds."

I surveyed the array of toppings: dark chocolate crisps, fresh fruits, roasted hazelnut pieces, cheesecake chunks, fruity cheerios, toasted almonds, gummy bears, and a whole other bunch of treats. I went with dark chocolate crisps (because I love chocolate) and strawberries (just to be healthy).

"Would you like chocolate sauce?" she asked.

My mind lit up at the mention, and before I could stop myself, I said, "Yes, please." While I said that, AG blurted "No!" on my behalf. 

"Oh dang, too late to change my order now," I sighed with false disappointment.

AG looked pretty disappointed. He would've made a great personal trainer, but not today, because my lust for chocolate overpowered the urge to stay fit. You're hearing this from the girl who loves chocolate so much, she eats Nutella out of the jar sometimes.

The yogurt was creamy and rich. It was sweet to the tongue with a subtle hint of mango. The dark chocolate crisps were crunchy, and the fresh strawberry slices added a sour tang to the overall sweetness. And of course, the chocolate sauce made the whole experience richer and sweeter.

No regrets there!

Photographed and written by Carissa Gan.

Double Chocolate Brownie

Dessert: Double chocolate brownie

Venue: Starbucks

Price: $3-ish?

Brownies are an awkward dessert. Maybe it’s appropriate to say they are the hybrid of cookies and cakes. They are usually served with chocolates or nuts embedded in their surface, but unlike cookies, they have that spongy texture that resembles a cake’s. However, unlike cakes, brownies lack the rich icing and cream. Brownies never interested me… until one hot afternoon, when I decided to try that lonely piece of double chocolate brownie in Starbucks.

Its description read 410 calories. That was quite a major turn off, but I decided to take the plunge and purchase something I wasn’t crazy about.

The pretty barista packed it in a paper bag for me, and I took my first fudge brownie back to my apartment and laid it on a plate. The contrast was evident; a dark square block of chocolate against a dainty white plate laced with printed blue peonies.

I eyed the brownie, wondering if I would have the appetite to finish the entire block of it once I started. I would hate to force myself to finish it, and throwing it away would be a waste. It didn’t exactly look appealing: just an ordinary brown slab with rectangular chunks of chocolate nestled in. The cracked surface of the brownie strangely portrayed the creviced roads of a post-earthquake site.

It stared back at me, waiting, seducing me with its rich chocolate texture. Since chocolate and I share a loyal and passionate relationship, I decided to give this brownie the benefit of the doubt.

Lowering my fork into the brown mass, I watched small brown particles tumble onto the plate, creating a speckled muddle at the foot of the dessert. I lifted a small chunk of the brownie to my lips, unaware that any second now, my evening was about to change.

The light, buttery taste of the brownie surprised me. A second later, my taste buds detected the dark chocolate. It wasn’t extremely sweet, nor was it bitter. It was a perfect balance of sweet and buttery. Its dense and moist structure melted away on my tongue. I reached for a second mouthful, then a third, until I had eaten three-fourths of the brownie. As I chewed, the sweet sensation of chocolate exploded in my mouth, leaving a luscious aftertaste of chocolate and imaginary cocoa. 


With each bite, I reminded myself to savor the moment, because a fraction of the taste was disappearing with each second.

I finished the rest of the brownie over the next couple of minutes, enjoying the spongy texture until all that was left on the plate were brownie crumbs and grease marks. The taste of chocolate lingered in my mouth and I yearned for more. I had just gone down a path I’d not explored, and the journey was so tantalizing that I wasn’t ready for it to end.

This brownie scored a place in my heart. It had earned its reputation from a cookie-cake hybrid to the best brownie I’d ever tasted.

Photographed and written by Carissa Gan.