By ZACHARY WILLIAMS
Staff Writer
Dearest Reader, I am not what you’d call a “haute cuisine” person.
My taste in food could best be described as old-fashioned. I like simple food with good flavor, served in large portions at a fair price. Anything with a name more than three words long and written in a language I have difficulty pronouncing, which is typically served on a plate smaller than my head – that generally gets passed up in favor of a cheeseburger and some fries.
It is surprising, then, that someone managed to rope me into going to Crisan, an upscale Lark Street bakery that’s been causing something of a stir on the culinary circuit for the last few years.
Now, baked goods in general aren’t something I’ve ever considered myself an expert on. I am a food person, and desserts are a whole different beast for me. As loath as I am to admit this to you, dearest Reader, cakes and pastries do not a full meal make.
And my first impression was that the set of 2001: A Space Odyssey had been rebuilt in a bakery in downtown Albany. The interior is mostly bare, barring the wood-vinyl floors and the art deco-type dressings on the walls (also, the massive tree stump that serves as a side table for coffee creamer, sugar, et cetera).
The walls and ceiling are angular and have odd recesses in them for shelving and nick-nacks, and are painted a uniform hospital white. The tables were decorated with a bounty of candies and sweets, cruelly imprisoned beneath a half-inch of plate glass tabletop. The chairs were a fifty-fifty split between moderately comfortable and plasticine abominations whose blueprints could only have been pulled from an anthology of medieval torture devices.
However, as something of a traditionalist when it comes to interior design, I forced my way through the strange, alien geometries surrounding me and walked to the counter.
All of my gripes were quickly silenced by Crisan’s selection of pastries.
Simply looking through the counter’s glass face reveals the quintessence of confectionery delight, a sight that is without compare in all of Albany – perhaps all of the three cities.
I would describe their fare if I could, but their menu changes on a daily basis. To try and do so would be like trying to roll a ten ton boulder up Central Avenue – not only impossible, but laughable.
Of what little I have sampled during my now-numerous trips there, I will say this: the taste of these small pastries is simply unparalleled.
And yes, for you crunchy granola hippies out there, they do have gluten-free, dairy free, and even vegan options.
A word to the wise, however: do not go in a rush, as you would at a Subway or any other kind of small restaurant.
Everything Crisan does is on a micro-sized scale, from the portions to the plates to the tiny, tiny silverware.
If you try to eat something in here while you’re hurrying, I will have to suggest you eat at McDonald’s for the rest of eternity.
Because eating at Crisan is not simply eating a cake. It’s an experience.
To maul the cake and dash is almost sacrilegious. At the very least, it fails to do justice to the delicate flavor of Crisan’s products.
Their cakes are not just cakes – they’re works of art. You eat a cake here almost surgically, slicing it apart piece by piece, savoring it to the last bite. It’s a labor of love, almost meditative in nature, like praying or painting (or hell, even writing a food column).
It’s a reminder – to tell us all to slow down every once in a while; to enjoy the little things.
It reminds us to take a break and be on your own for a little while, in a quiet, peaceful place insulated from the push and shove of the world beyond that glass door.
A world that, while still visible, is a separate one, even for a short time. It’s a reminder that, I think, we all need every once in a while.
I hope you enjoyed this column. And I hope, after reading it, you decide to take a few moments of your life, step back, and enjoy a slice of Crisan’s cake.
Until next time, dearest Reader, take care and enjoy.
