Chronicles of Creams

Hello, dear reader.  I write to you from my prison cell, where I await execution in the morning.  My crime? Eating too much cream!  The state has wanted me dead for years, for it is dangerous to stir the passions of the masses as I have, recounting my adventures in cream.  Jeff Sessions has personally seen to it that I am terminated.  I like to think that I have shared the way and the truth and the light for all to see, and my death will not end the love of cream that all good men hold in their flabby bosoms.  By the time you read this I will be gone.  Please enjoy some final notes on recent creams I've consumed, and always remember me and my creams.

Morgenstern's Ice Cream, Lower East Side
It had been two years since I partook in Morgenstern's creams, and they are indeed excellent creams.  I had a madagascar vanilla ice cream with pickled pineapple and candied pecans.  The slight sweetness and crunch of the pecans and the sour pineapple played beautifully off the subtle, cold cream.

Soft Swerve, Lower East Side
The Asian-inspired soft serve here is fantastic.  The taro soft serve was velvety and complex.

Lilia, Williamsburg
The soft serve gelato was disappointing.  Not much flavor and not very good texture.  However, an olive oil cake with fresh whipped cream was excellent.  The fresh cream was flavorful and dense yet airy.

Taiyaki NYC, Chinatown
The soft serve here is excellent, as are the mix-ins.  The cream comes in a cone shaped like a fish, the cone tasting more like a nice soft cake than a boring cone.

Mah ze Dahr, West Village

Some of the finest, most rich and flavorful soft serve I've ever tasted.  The cone was absolutely incredible, tasting like a Dutch stroopwafel.  I had my swirl soft serve topped with caramel drizzle, crushed almonds and brownies.  Exquisite.

Taboon, Hell's Kitchen
A cute and comfortable Middle Eastern bistro in Hell's Kitchen.  The food is very good, and as I dipped housemade focaccia bread in dips with my tender, I had no idea an incredible cream dessert awaited me. They call is "silan," and it was a very fine vanilla ice cream with crunchy puffed rice, date honey, pistachios and shredded halva.  This was a cream dessert of Middle Eastern mystery and intoxication.  "What a cream!" I shouted in surprise and pleasure.  This turned out to be my final cream.

And now I go to face my maker.  Thank you for your loyal readership over the years.

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