This is Highly Recommend , a column dedicated to what people in the food industry are obsessed with eating, drinking, and buying right now.
My favorite thing about The Long Island Bar is the deep fried cheese curds served with a side of ranch. My second, third, and fourth favorite things about The Long Island Bar are eavesdropping on the couple inches away from me, the glow of the neon “No Dancing” sign reflecting off the terrazzo floor, and the smell of freshly cracked ice and sticky whiskey. The cheese curds I can have at a patio table outside. As for the rest, although my personal pandemic comfort zone is rapidly expanding, I’m not quite ready to return to my favorite type of cocktail bar—one that’s dimly lit, packed with strangers, and hygge like a cozy cave.
Oddfellows’ Boozy Capsule isn’t a substitute for the bars I love and miss most, but it is a balm of a different sort: ice cream. This limited edition series of pints pays homage to some of the best bars in the world—Mexico City’s Limantour, Barcelona’s Two Schmucks, Sydney’s Maybe Sammy, and New York’s Death & Co, Attaboy, and Long Island Bar. Death & Co’s Buko Gimlet flavor, the pastel green of an after dinner mint, is a coconut cream sherbet infused with pandan leaf, gin, and Novo Fogo cachaça . The La Finca ice cream from Maybe Sammy, which features oloroso sherry, Mr. Black Coffee Liqueur, and gooey nuggets of manuka honey, tastes like a frozen version of the best Vietnamese coffee I’ve ever had. The Long Island Bar’s pint is a tart, juicy riff on a Cosmopolitan , which was developed by the bar’s owner Toby Cecchini when he was working at the legendary Odeon. It tastes like pink lemonade and 2002.
The cute conceit makes these pints worth recommending, but what makes them worth highly recommending is the quality of the ice cream itself. Oddfellows , one of my favorite scoop shops in New York, is the brainchild of Sam Mason, formerly the pastry chef at WD-50. He’s been turning out small batch flavors like miso cherry and pistachio cardamom caramel since 2013, and in his hands, even bacon, egg, and cheese ice cream is worth lining up for. At $120 for six pints (shipping included), these are definitely a splurge. But think of each pint as a couple of cocktails—which they essentially are, in ice cream form—and consider that you don’t have to tip. Plus, Oddfellows is donating ten percent of proceeds from the Boozy Capsule to Another Round Another Rally , a nonprofit that aids those in the hospitality sector. May I suggest sending a pack to your best bar crawl buddy for her birthday?
The ice creams in the Boozy Capsule do contain alcohol, but a subtle amount—under 5 percent ABV, which is not so much that they approach frozen marg territory but enough that they’re perfectly scoopable straightg from the freezer. If you were feeling moreish, you could, conceivably top a bowl of Attaboy’s Penicillin ice cream with a shot of peaty Scotch or float a scoop of the Cosmopolitan in a glass of cremant. Or do what I do—dim the lights, turn on a little background noise , sidle up real close to your partner or roommate or dog, and stick a spoon straight into the pint.
OddFellow's The Boozy Capsule Ice Cream
Source : food
Posting Komentar
Posting Komentar