Let Them Drink Milk!
Today I went to Momofuku Milk Bar and Bakery to take a photo for Home Office. I failed miserably, but that’s a different story.
I’ll admit it, I heard all the hype and I fell victim — after all, I’d been to all the other ‘fukus and had no complaints. I savored every course at Ko the second day it was open, I regularly crave the pork buns from the Noodle Bar and I gorged on the Bo Ssäm at Ssäm Bar to the point were I couldn’t eat pork for weeks.
But Milk Bar, ehh…
Let’s put things in perspective. I didn’t go to my junior prom. Instead I went to my friend Monica’s house with my friend Amy and made Dirt, that dessert where you crumble up practically everything bad for you and then drown your sorrows. That’s what Momofuku Milk Bar tastes like. Seriously.
First of all, the room itself is serious downer town. Cakes and pies are displayed in sad little aluminum tins in an anemic display case straight out of a truck stop diner. Even with all the Chang-hype attached, when I went I was the only person there other than a professional-looking camera crew parked in one corner. Talk about losers’ ball.
Then the food. Of course it tastes good. Let’s look at the Compost Cookie: Milk Bar pastry chef Christina Tosi describes it as “potato chips, pretzels, coffee grounds, chocolate chips, graham crumbs, butterscotch chips, and a little bit of flour.” The Crack Pie: “It’s brown sugar, regular sugar, butter, cream, salt, and a little corn flour to hold it together.” You’ll be lucky if you leave without diabetes. Or a heart attack.
I left with an ice cream cone, the snickerdoodle and fudge swirl. It was about the size of a ping pong ball and came to $5. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all about reasonable portions, but $5? Fuck that shit.
Photo ripped from Flickr user weapong
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