The Challenge:
Battle of vegetables...sort of—Thorne vs. Moulton.
Dorothy's Review
My knowledge of Greek culture is limited to the deltas, phis, lambdas and omegas that litter my physics notes.
Needless to say, I was curious to see what kind of Greek cuisine Moulton had to offer on a Saturday evening, given that the Dining Service notoriously uses weekend meals to get rid of leftovers or prepare quick, easy-to-cook entrees.
Though hamburgers and pasta were still options for the less adventurous, I was pleased to spot out two Greek dishes: zucchini croquettes and spanikopita.
Although its name may not be familiar, spanikopita is actually a very common Greek dish that you've probably tried.
Loosely translated to "spinach pie," spanikopita is a light, crispy pastry with a spinach and feta cheese filling.
As I bit into the spanikopita, the thin, flaky layers of phyllo pastry brushed with a coat of olive oil gave great texture and contrast to the soft, moist spinach filling.
Normally, I abhor any kind of cheese and vegetable combo, most notably, cheddar-coated broccoli.
However, in this case, the feta cheese complemented, rather than overpowered, the spinach.
Bundled into small spiky balls, the zucchini croquettes were perfect bite-sized amuse-bouches.
After popping one of these fried fritters into my mouth, I tasted a miniature explosion of flavor—zucchini, onions, dill and mint rolled into a bread—crumb batter and fried in olive oil.
The outer spiky crust was delightfully crunchy while the inside was moist, exotic-tasting and refreshing.
Unlike croquettes in American cuisine, such as crab cakes, that can often be too dry and bland, these zucchini balls were packed with flavor.
As far as taste goes, I was very satisfied with Moulton's Greek cuisine. Though the flavors may not have been truly authentic, I was deeply impressed that these Greek entrees were served on a weekend evening when vegan chicken fingers are usually as exotic as it gets.
Alicia's Review
I went into Thorne on Wednesday with every intention of writing a review about an entrée—something savory, something serious.
Instead, I chose to eat and write about a cake with a funny name: pumpkin buckle.
Buckles fall into a dessert category of things (at least in my mind) that have silly names. You have your buckle, your slump and your grunt.
I've never baked any of these things myself, perhaps because I would be too embarrassed to name it at the time of serving.
After all, what would you guess a person's feelings were toward you if they had the gall to serve you a "grunt" or a "slump"? Kiss that relationship goodbye.
Buckles, however, seem a bit more cheery. The pumpkin buckle at Thorne was delicious. And I must say that I'm happy to see pumpkin desserts outside the fall months to which they are normally relegated.
The dessert had a thick spicy cake bottom with a generous layer of cinnamon sugar crumble on top. It begged for dairy accompaniment, and so I obliged.
My neighbor reprimanded me for not using enough whipped cream—but really, whipped cream wasn't going to be sufficient here.
I opted to eat my cake with the addition of vanilla ice cream. Watching the white ice cream melt and finally soak into the crevices of the moist pumpkin layer was bliss; eating it was better.
Once the cream saturated the cake, each crumb became deliciously wet and sweet, making each bite perfectly balanced as it melted in my mouth.
I stopped for a breather about a quarter of the way through my dessert. (I still don't know why I can't seem to learn to eat dessert first.)
I thought I might not be able to finish. But the combination of the cold wet ice cream and the soft cakey buckle was impossible to resist.
Contrasts in texture and taste always seem to keep me coming back for more.
My neighbor called it "refreshing."
Poppycock. Why would you eat a refreshing dessert?
Go get some water you shlub; desserts are supposed to be decadent—and it was!
The Verdict:
Oh dear, this one wasn't really a fair battle. Who in their right mind would chose a vegetable entrée over a vegetable dessert?
Pumpkin cakes with funny names are where it's at. Even Dorothy agrees.