My first taste of Wild Crumb was a complete accident.
I had wandered into the basement to complain to my dad that my cold had left me unable to do anything fun and therefore desperately bored. In response, he handed me a plastic cup with a bit of pale and clear tangerine liquid left inside––fresh squeezed orange juice from Wild Crumb Bakery. I took a cautious sip and found that it tasted like...orange juice. Not the kind in a carton, with its weirdly artificial opaque color and the sugary aftertaste you can never quite get rid of and the weird preservatives that coat your throat, but the juice you get when you suck on a slice of a fresh orange, the kind that dribbles over your fingers and tastes clear and fruity like...sunshine. After those few tantalizing sips, I was determined to go to Wild Crumb and see what other wonders were in store.
A few days later, my wish was granted. It was in an area of town I was familiar with. The architecture in this area combined modern, boxy forms with the more industrial materials of corrugated steel plates and rusty red metal beams. Wild Crumb was no exception. There was an abstract sculpture comprised of curves and ovals outside in the rocky garden full of straggly green-brown flowers. I wondered idly if the art inside and outside had come from the Mercantile, the nearby art studio where I had once taken private art lessons. It shared the building with several other businesses, but it used its available space creatively.
When we went inside, the first thing I noticed was cinnamon and dill, the scent of sweet and savory spices and freshly baked bread wafting into my nostrils and beckoning me inside. Although the outer look was industrial and modern, the inside was like a classic Montana bakery. The next thing I noticed was the array of pastries neatly laid out behind a curved glass pane, tastefully arranged on platter stands of varying heights. The indoor design may have been Montanan, but the pastries were straight out of a French cafe! A tray of lavender French macaroons caught my eye. I had been to France before, and loved their macaroons. Since then, I had been disappointed by the lack of macaroons that lived up to that standard. However, the orange juice had given me high expectations for this bakery-cafe, and I wondered if my disappointment might that day come to an end.
I ordered one of the Lavender Earl Grey French Macaroons, a rich chocolatey brown Hazelnut Chocolate Cake dusted with powdered sugar, and a (non-French) coconut macaroon drizzled with chocolate. The staff were helpful and knew exactly what a gluten-intolerant person like me needed. After they handed us our pastries, we sat outside at some simple copper-green metal chairs.
With some trepidation, I bit into the lavender macaroon. My teeth cracked through the outside crust and into a soft-as-snow interior that tasted of sweet lavender. The inside cream filling was beautifully smooth, with a deep and slightly bitter undertone that reminded me of hot tea. The two different tastes frolicked on my tongue and melded into something sweet and perfectly creamy. It was heavenly. My disappointment had indeed gone away––and that was only the first bite! I finished the rest of the macaroon, being sure to savor every sweet bite as it melted in my mouth just the way it did in France.
My dad told me that I could only have one more, so I split the other two desserts in half and nibbled on the chocolate cake. It had a rich chocolate flavor with a sweet nutty undertone and a bitter, almost coffee-like aftertaste. It was almost like Nutella, except, of course, much more delicious. If I were younger, I might not have appreciated that richness, but I had recently learned to love such flavors such as coffee and dark chocolate. After painfully forcing myself to eat only half, I dug into the coconut macaroon. This one was the most typical (I had seen it in almost every cafe I'd ever been to), but a cut above the ordinary. I had never seen someone coat a macaroon in chocolate, but it was a genius idea. The toasted coconut of the macaroon was perfect with the chocolate, combining to create a sweet and nutty flavor that was better than any other coconut macaroon I had ever had. It was only later that I realized that the pastries were probably even better than they had seemed, due to my cold––a tantalizing possibility
I very rarely return to a cafe within two weeks of my first visit, but Wild Crumb was so tantalizing that it lured me back for more within ten days. The third time I went, there was a whole different set of delicious-looking deserts. I decided on a raspberry, vanilla bean, and apricot panna cotta along with a vanilla bean almond merengue. I started with the merengue, relishing the way my teeth crunched through it and unleashed a burst of powdery sweetness. It was just as delectable as everything else I had eaten there! The main body of the merengue melted away on my tongue, leaving behind a slight almond taste from the goldenrod sliced almonds embedded within. The merengue itself was eggshell white and shaped like a dollop of sticky frosting––not as visually appealing as the perfect swirl shape I had seen at the Daily Coffee Bar, but certainly more gastronomically appealing.
The panna cotta was altogether different. The first thing I tasted was the clear tang of the deep red raspberry top, followed by the smooth white vanilla bean main body that reminded me of whipped cream. Finally came the rich bright orange apricot gel at the bottom, which tasted like a sunny field on a prairie of sunflowers at sunset. Not sunshine, though––it was too flavorful for that. Altogether, they created a palette of flavors that danced over my taste buds and created a cornucopia of colorful tastes. It tasted like spring. I let every spoonful spend time on my tongue, savoring its flavors before it slipped down my gullet.
All in all, Wild Crumb is most definitely the best pastry shop I have ever been to––which is saying something, considering I've been to France! I would definitely recommend it for anyone who loves quality food or has been spoiled by French cuisine. The only thing I didn't like about it was the fact that it closes at 3:00 PM, so I can't go after school to experience those wonderful flavors. That's just me being picky, though, because short hours are a hallmark of a good restaurant–something I learned the hard way in France.
No complaints here!
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