Yet Another Ode to Sweet-Savory (Or: More Proof that I am Predictable)

Photograph by Erika Dufour

By Mollie Chen

This afternoon, a surprise gift of Vosges Haut-Chocolate goodies gave myself and my colleagues a much-needed boost to get through the end of a horrific September close. Last week, at the Fancy Food Show, Vosges had a huge booth set up with all their wares on display -- everything from their addictive chili and cocoa-coated tortilla chips to their fun exotic candy bars. Unfortunately I didn't get close enough to taste any of them because the table was swarmed the entire time (honestly, with all that deliciousness laid out for the taking, do you blame those people?). Luckily one of the company reps was nice enough to send me their latest catalogs and press releases, plus samples of their most exciting treats. Tough life, I know.

The Chicago-based company, helmed by owner and founder Katrina Markoff, sets the bar with her globe-trotting ingredients, unflagging quality, and Bergdorf-approved packaging. I remember the first time I stumbled into the pocket-sized Soho outpost, with bright purple walls and chic, boutique feel. Oddly enough, it was for a Bobbi Brown event, but I remember being much more interested in the strangely enticing flavors than the fall eyeshadow trends. (Their green tea bars are marketed as beauty bars -- great for your skin and even better on your tastebuds.)

Traveler hearts La Farm Bakery

By Mollie Chen

A regular Parisian feast "Mm. Runny, gooey." Features editor Alison Humes closed her eyes in a mock swoon. "So good." There are days when my job seems just too good to be true. (Which makes up for the days when the expense reports and unanswered queries seem neverending.) This lovely Wednesday is one of them.

So fresh, so clean

In her years as a magazine editor, the Materialist has learned a few things, most of which bear no repeating here, concerning as they do various little-known facts about outdated Macintosh-friendly publishing software programs.

However, one semi-interesting thing that the Materialist did learn is this: publicists are another breed of human being. The Materialist isn't just trying to be cute here--it's actually true. At various points in her career, publicists have tried to convince the Materialist that Iowa is becoming "the hip new destination" (sorry, Iowans, but the Materialist ain't buyin' it); that classy people drink tequila in wineglass (again, sorry, tequila industry); and that geriatrics make fun traveling companions (the Materialist can say definitively that this is a lie).

The Materialist finds all this amusing, of course, and even admires the most dedicated and zealous of publicists, who are possessed of an inhuman indefatigability, a determined lack of irony, and, most important, a Reagan-esque ability to believe what they're saying is absolutely true--or at least to appear that way. So when a publicist spends her time and precious energy cells enthusiastically flacking something that's not even a client's, said item is usually worth investigating.