There's a funny reason that I happened upon this little corner of heaven on Earth. It came into my life simply as a drop spot recommended by my friend for her to leave a key for me (to pick up from her friend who works here). I wandered the street outside, herding my three children as we walked, looking back and forth from the crinkled scrap of paper on which I'd written the address, back up to storefronts lining the block. There was a steady stream of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk blocking my view and I missed my destination, so I had to circle back. I found it. The street address matched and there was the name she had given me: ChocNYC. Finally, I'd found the drop spot. I hoped it would be a quick transaction so we could get back to other things.
As I walked through the door of ChocNYC to ask for my friend's friend entrusted with my key, I realized this was sick (in the Urban Dictionary application of the word) serendipity. Getting the key that brought me was going to be the last of the benefits of my trip here.
There were a few small tables and chairs, a decent-sized, open, sparkling clean kitchen and a glass bakery case along the checkout wall. There were interesting specials posted on the wall behind the counter and tantalizing baked goods and complicated chocolate desserts for sale both inside and on top of the case. The ambiance was hip, cheerful, and upscale; but not aloof or pretentious. It struck me as urban yet small town; elegant yet casual. This little place was understated, but the beautiful cakes and sweet delicacies behind the glass case at the counter were not. They were of myth. They rivaled the treats displayed in any glossy cookbook in their splendor and perfection. The smell was equally consuming. The man who handed me the key had a charming smile and took a minute from the homemade dough he had been kneading to speak while handing over the key (I'd been forced to forget at this point). Dressed in a traditional white full chef's apron, he introduced himself as Jemal. I assumed he worked for this business and was likely a favorite employee for his devotion & work ethic. The intensity in his work and his humble demeanor made me immediately respect him.
The pretty, smiling assistant at the cash register introduced herself as I was about to ask what all ChocNYC made. She told me all about their daily homemade ice cream & sorbet flavors. She told me about each of the delectable pastries, tarts, and other sweet concoctions in the case. I was already hungry & my children (who were with me) were practically drooling at my side, so I ordered a little bit of everything! I even ordered one of each of the little ice cream bowls!
Now I am not necessarily proud of this, but it's safe to say I've had every dessert known to man at some point or another, not only in the City, but all over the world. I'm no Anthony Bourdain, nor do I try to be; but I do have a discerning palette and even more refined in the area of desserts. This day I will never forget. I am not exaggerating. Every single item we ordered--all made right there, in house, of course--was mind-bogglingly amazing. The presentation was impressive, too. I wanted those minutes to last longer. Each item, including the ice creams, was incredible. I thought they must have a huge staff making these intricate desserts. Some of the iced ones resembled ones I'd seen at very high-budget weddings and D.C. political functions, where money was no object.
I couldn't suppress my reaction to this whole experience to the aproned man, Jemal, and the lovely lady behind the counter; and they were so polite and humble in response. I would later learn that this man, Jemal Edwards, is a big deal in the culinary world. He and his partner, Brad Doles, opened this utopia of last courses about four months ago. Needless to say, it's been doing well. In fact, there were customers coming and going the whole time I was there. Many of those who came were obviously regulars, as Jemal would look up from his cooking to smile, speak, and ask how they were doing, by name. No one walked out displeased. If they weren't regulars, they were surely thanking God--as I was--that circumstances had brought them through that door.
The level of pride in workmanship, originality, perfection, quality, customer satisfaction, and use of superior ingredients to create this magic in the kitchen is unparalleled. As far north as Inwood is in Manhattan, I came back and will continue to come back for more! It's worth the trip and it's a block or two from the A & the 1. I suggest you just walk there if the trains are down. This place is going places. Go now while you can get in the door. read more