I was stuck behind a Mercedes SUV and two Lexi on my way to lunch in Hyde Park the other day. An affable uniformed guard was giving measured instructions at the main gate. Once through, I wended my way between stately brick buildings dripping with wisteria, named for their oligarchical benefactors. I parked and ascended a staircase, emerging in the full sun beside a fountain with a panoramic valley view. The air was maple-syrup sweet.
I may never be a millionaire – but I am going to eat like one.
Enter the Apple Pie Bakery Café, the Culinary Institute of America’s most reasonable restaurant, serving arguably its most delicious food. (I don’t know about you, but a deal always tastes better to me.) It offers all the benefits of the CIA’s renowned ambiance with populist twists – common café fare made memorable with quality ingredients and innovative presentation; classic bistro decor with imaginative flourishes, like colorful hand-blown glass light fixtures and a ceiling completely covered in wine corks; expertly prepared baked goods and light lunches at Panera Bread prices.
At the heart of the bakery are the two curved glass display cases flanking the cash registers. The one to the left is filled with braided breads, flaky croissants and more types of brioche than you can shake a breadstick at. To the right is a dessert display reminiscent of an exhibit at Willy Wonka’s factory. Cakes, tarts and custards in bright colors, surprising shapes and exciting textures are set in neat rows, lying in wait to bring your New Year’s resolution to its knees.
The restaurant is staffed by CIA pupils who take turns in both the front and the back of the house. Upon entering, you are greeted by a smiling manager who offers to answer menu questions; cashiers are efficient and waitstaff is friendly, delivering orders to tables demarcated by laminated numbers stuck in apple-themed centerpieces. They seem hungry to succeed.
Taste across the board
Their food is largely a success. I nearly cried a tear of joy when I saw Muffaletta ($9.95) on the menu. The traditional Italian sandwich is made on hearty focaccia, the inside of which is marinated with a traditional tapenade of olives, capers and anchovies blended with olive oil. Mortadella, cappicola, sopressata, prosciutto, salami and fresh mozzarella are sliced thin, and the whole is wrapped tight until the layers meld together. The resulting wedge resembled the cross-section of the earth’s crust, with layers in red and white. Here, it’s served with potato salad topped by caramelized bacon so sweet, it tasted like meat candy.
Grilled Chicken Panini ($7.95) is herb-marinated chicken breast, fresh mozzarella, poblano peppers, grilled onions, sun-dried tomato pesto on a toasted hoagie roll — a party-in-your-mouth-type of flavor bonanza. Sourdough “Reuben” Panini ($9.95) is corned beef, gruyere, sauerkraut, whole grain mustard and Russian dressing on grilled sourdough, and it comes with grade-A French fries. French fries ($3/pint) are served in a graduated aluminum cup, seasoned traditionally or with black truffle salt and parmesan. Three dipping sauces accompany: creamy garlic aioli, ketchup and malt vinegar.
The Oven Roasted Turkey Sandwich ($7.25) – turkey breast, gruyere cheese, cucumber and chipotle mayonnaise on a whole wheat brioche bun – was the least impressive choice, wrapped in a brown paper cummerbund and obviously refrigerated as a unit. Still, it was an inoffensive choice for a simpler palate, served with a damn fine wedge of pickle.
There is also a modest selection of pizza, salads and soups, including daily specials.
Desserts, on the other hand, warrant a separate menu. For chocolate lovers, the Chocolate Pots de Crème ($2.95/ea.) are paradise regained. Individual eggs are emptied of yolk and white, refilled with dark chocolate baked custard sprinkled with cocoa nibs. The texture on your tongue feels as sinful as a satin sheet. The flavor of the dark chocolate is so deep, it’s profound.
An alternate avenue is a frozen dessert, served in plastic cube portions too big for one appetite. Chocolate-Marzipan Ice Cream ($6.95) features house-made dark chocolate ice cream with marzipan ice cream, cassis sorbet and toasted almonds. There is a thin chocolate sheet on top decorated with a lace pattern in painted sugar. Like the lace, the dish’s flavors are beautiful and complex: sugary marzipan vs. tart cassis, in particular, confused my tongue and sent shivers down my spine.
Acacia Honey Panna Cotta ($2.95) has an innocence to its sweetness. Thick creamy panna cotta is piped between chambers of raw molasses jelly, topped with a square of honeycomb. Banana Cream Tart ($4.95) is a disc of perfect pudding and banana paste, topped with dozens of marshmallowy meringue spikes. Nowadays, it’s visions of this confection that dance in my head.
Who needs caviar dreams?