One of the iconic things about any childhood is ice cream, and we had a local shop in my home town that had no rivals, but when we went down the shore we always flocked to Kohr’s Frozen Custard stand on the boardwalk. In 1919 the Kohr’s brothers pioneered soft serve style ice cream, but the product is richer, creamier and more flavorful than the standard fare, and it contains eggs. It’s simple–vanilla, chocolate, orange, raspberry, usually eaten in twists–but (for me) highly addictive.
One of the more epic food memories of my childhood is of my best friend’s father, who used to make the hour+ drive to the Jersey Shore whenever he had a hankering for Kohr’s.
So of course we took the kids there. Of course they ate their cones before I could think to put my own down and snap a picture.
But the custard really does exist, and it really is that good, so if you find yourself in Point Pleasant, get one for yourself and see if you can hold off long enough to get a picture.
It isn’t the Cinque Terre, nor is it Venice, and it’s definitely not Paris, where Caroline & her gang are lucky enough to be on vacation, but Bay Head, NJ still has quiet, clean beaches, flanked by stately homes, canals, and Mueller’s Bakery— which has got to be one of the best small bakeries in the country.
Our rental was just around the corner from Mueller’s, which we knew about thanks to my brother, who lives the next town over. Every morning, the youngest girls would descend from their sleeping garret in the attic, find me and Finn in the second floor sunroom watching Cyberchase and drinking coffee, and we’d throw on our swimsuits and walk around the block to the bakery.
Inside was everything a butter-sugar-flour addict could dream of: the best jelly donuts I’ve had in 30 years–powdered and sugared both; chocolate donuts; powdered and glazed cake donuts; melt-in-your mouth apricot and berry danishes; bear claws; cheese claws; apple bars; turnovers; sweet pretzels; cinnamon rolls and twists; fresh bagels; fat muffins stuffed with blueberries; fancy cakes; everyday cakes; loaf breads and long breads–including sweet and savory varieties like Irish Soda; tray after tray of cookies, including decorated, themed ones as well as more traditional ones; cupcakes; and the major reason for my family’s swooning: the crumb cake–the recipe for which is unchanged since the Bakery’s inception over a century ago.
Suffice to say the crumb cake has a dense, rich layer of incredibly moist cake, and an even richer, not-to-sweet thick layer of buttery crumb, topped with enough powdered sugar to lightly dust your shirt while you eat. They’re impossibly good, the Platonic ideal of a crumb cake, and if you’re craving one right now, Mueller’s ships them. Anywhere.
We’d grab our cakes or donuts and cross the street and sit on a bench in front of the canal, where we’d unwrap the cakes and donuts from their waxed paper bags and eat, happily, while the morning woke up around us.
It was just like eating croissant on the Seine, Jersey Style.
Only in NJ because we literally can’t buy Yoo-Hoo where we live, but also because, well, it’s so full of crap and so unhealthy and downright gross that I would never buy it if we weren’t on vacation. But buy it I did, and a six pack at that, for my son, and his sister and their 2 cousins, partly because I remembered it as a rare treat from my NJ childhood and because the packaging is still so iconic, and it’s sort of good and sweet and cold.
Suffice to say Finn had a quintessential NJ food moment, sitting in one of the country premiere delicatessens, eating a bagel that had literally come straight out of the oven, and sucking down a Yoo-Hoo in maybe 60 seconds flat.
But he can also do a mean dance to Rosalita. Both feats prove he’s my son.
As it happens, we canceled our trip to Kauai this year, and we’re taking a local, recession-friendly vacation instead. But we are all dreaming of Hawaii, including Ella, who decided to have a Luau for her 7th birthday party.
Of course, this got her dad thinking about cake. We said to each other, late one night, wouldn’t it be great to have a volcano cake? Sure, it would be great to have a volcano cake! You should make a volcano cake! And since Kory has now not met a cake challenge he can refuse he began to plan. I planned the party, which included a simple menu:
Much to my surprise, we had very little food left over, which is unusual at parties, though the sausages were a bigger hit with most kids than the chicken.
My deal with Kory was that I would bake a prep the cake, and he would decorate. I made one large red velvet sheet cake, to simulate the red dirt. Instead of cream cheese frosting, though, which I feared the kids might be picky about, I filled the cake with chocolate ganache which was supposed to accompany the double chocolate cake which made the foundation for the volcano. The chocolate volcano was filled with raspberry filling–lava, of course. The cakes were easily two of the best I’ve ever made, and were topped only by my husband’s incredible art. Kory used white fondant, which he colored and painted himself, cookie cutters for the stylized palms, and a kind of sprinkle that looked like sand. The flames are construction paper.
The kids ordered their pieces by “sea” or “volcano” paying little attention to the color or flavor (more or less intensely chocolately…). It was gorgeous, & the only problem is that now he might actually be expected to make one for every birthday.
This time of year the stone fruit is in all its glory, and Lisa’s already written about her family’s love of cherries, but it’s the peaches we love best around here. We eat them plain, standing over the sink to catch the drips, or cut into a bowl, sprinkled with a bit of cinnamon sometimes when we’re feeling fancy. We eat them sliced onto our cereal and our pancakes, with yogurt and with ice cream, swirled into smoothies and grilled on sweet pizzas. If pizza feels like too much of a production, you can achieve nearly the same effect with sliced peaches on toast spread with a dollop of ricotta cheese and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar:
I’m not much of a pie baker, but can recommend my sister’s recipe for a good and simple peach pie. And when friends are over, we bake the peaches into the easiest crisp: slice your fruit into a gratin pan, toss with a tablespoon or two of flour and maybe a bit of lemon juice. For the topping, combine equal parts melted butter, oatmeal, brown sugar, flour and wheat germ (I use a generous 1/2 cup for a 10″ gratin pan). Bake at 350 until browned on top and bubbly around the edges, about half an hour.
We are eating peaches every day, and we never tire of them; so tell me, how do you eat yours?
