Friday night I got a yen for something besides the dessert I am loyal to year round: ice cream (and not just any ice cream, but a particular – and, to my mind, unsubstitutable) Ben & Jerry's flavor.
I'm not much for cakes, though I do have a weakness for most cookies (especially around Christmas time). Certain pastries are great – if they're very fresh, prepared with quality ingredients, and not mostly sugar.
And I get weak in the knees when I see pies, pies in almost any shape or form – especially fruit pies or cobbler for breakfast during hot weather.
But none of these were what was setting my taste buds alust. What I wanted was something cooling and citrusy, not orange or grapefruit but more like lemon or lime – classic summertime flavors.
I'll skip the lemon meringue pie every time, even sans meringue. I'm not into coffee, so lemon biscotti doesn't appeal to me. I've had very good lemon cookies, but usually the best ones, the very lemony ones, are coated with confectioner's sugar, which sometimes has an off flavor to me.
My partner recently discovered Haagen Dazs “Five”, ice cream with only five ingredients (which is sort of a marketing trick since a lot of regular Haagen Dazs meets this criterion too). “Five” Lemon sends him into absolute ecstasy. But to me, citrus hooking up with dairy seems a bit improper, like mixing whipped cream and vinegar. And I had already eliminated ice cream – along with gelato and sorbet.
No, what I wanted was something like key lime pie . . . or lemon bars.
By Sunday, I had forgotten my brief yen completely. But as I lingered under the Chez Hareg tent for a last bit of shade before my short but mostly sunny trek home from BFM, I realized I had a few unspent dollars in my pocket.
I was just about to leave when the customer ahead of me asked, “What's the best thing you got?” Now, in a supermarket or store, some clerk would probably be required to avow, “Really, it's all good.” And anywhere – yes, even at BFM business is business – he would perhaps push the excess inventory. But even if that does sometimes happen at BFM (and I'm not saying it definitely does) the answer to that question will never be untruthful. Vendors there have too much at stake.
So when the reply turned out to be “lemon bars”, a choir of hosannas started up in my head. I asked whether the bars were more “cakey” or “cookie-like” and the answer was “cake” with a crust underneath. I may have heard the word “custard” in there, which would have slowed me down for a minute, but if I did, my mind interpreted it as “creamy” instead of “eggy”. I ignored my slight aversion to cake, and bought one anyway. And yes, I know custard implies dairy, but I'm not totally inflexible.
For $4.50 I got a square paper-based container with a clear snap-on lid. Inside I could see a layer of glazed-type (as opposed to poofy) frosting. I figure I paid about a dollar a square inch.
Once home, I noticed my stomach growling, so I pre-emptively put my lemon bar – more like a lemon square – well out of sight. I didn't want to waste it on something so mundane as assuaging my hunger. Later that night, I pulled it out and cracked it open. Getting hold of piece of cutlery would've involved going downstairs. This isn't just a simple skip down and trudge back up, but – due to complicated reasons deserving of a separate story – a lengthy and unpredictable process, so I confess: I resorted to bare hands.
It wasn't a crack like a saltine would make, but I could easily break a piece off with my fingers, which left a slight dent in the frosting. Good, I thought, the frosting hasn't hardened. Good.
Underneath and on the sides was a medium thick shortbread-like (but darker) crust. On top of that was an only slightly thicker layer of a light colored something, coarse but not exactly crumbly – and perfectly moist.
Now, I realize it can't be easy coming up with pastries to sell outside in almost 100 degree temperatures, especially if the pastries are made by hand and in small batches. They have to be prepared well ahead of time and be refrigeratable – or at least chillable. (My “lemon bar” came out of a cooler, which pleased the hygienic part of my brain.) And refrigeration dries things out.
So I don't know if my lemon square's texture was the same right after the frosting went on it. If it wasn't, the item still survived well, because I loved it.
It was very lemony, and not rich. Rich is what I don't want in hot weather. The layers had different flavors and textures, and the crunch factor was entirely acceptable. I was afraid my partner would like it as much as I did, but he either preferred his lemon “Five”, or only claimed he did so I could enjoy the whole square myself (not all at once, of course . . . I rationed it out so I could relish each piece).
I've finally found a reason to be glad I'm not producing an income right now. Because even though Chez Hareg isn't super close to where I live, it would still be in the danger zone if I weren't on such a tight budget. And I would have to get a second job to buy a whole new wardrobe in a bigger size.
PS The “Luscious Lemon Bar” shown on the Chez Hareg website (which looks a bit like cheesecake) doesn't much resemble the dessert I purchased. And yes, I know chefs like to add little touches like the yellow jewelry in the photo. I probably would too, if I were a chef. However, when it comes to bakery goods, the more decorated they are, the less likely I am to try 'em. After having to foist off pretty, sugary – but awful, and usually stale – treats on the neighborhood kids, I refuse to fall for that trick anymore.
KL, 20 July 2010