On a recent trip to Portland, we ducked into a little Italian specialty store for a cappucino and a cannolo. That poor little tube of ricotta — it crumbled beneath the weight of our lips and quickly transformed into a mouth of mush that tasted like it had been spooned directly from a plastic carton of ricotta cheese. Also, it had little gummy pieces of fruit in it.
This was the fruit cake of cannolis, and it pretty much ruined my day.
Compare that to this amazing tunnel of love from Salem’s own Little Cannoli Bakery, perhaps the best-known, hardest-to-find shop in town. We succumbed to the cannoli hard sell after lunch in town the other day.
“Can I help you?”
“No, we’re just looking.”
“Our cannolis are great, here, try a piece.”
“Yumm! But we just had dessert.”
“You can get them to take home for later. We’ll wrap them up and you can fill them yourselves.”
“Sold!”
I don’t need to tell you that this cannolo tastes good. I mean, look at it. The cannoli pastry is dipped in carmelized almonds and chocolate and doesn’t crumble all to pieces when you eat it. The cream is light and fluffy, sweet enough to play off the dark chocolate, subtle enough to let you convince yourself that it’s your portion of South Beach for the day.
But the real treat is in filling them. You fill them at home because you’ve been recycling and you’ve been watching your waste and this little bit of plastic won’t add too much to the world mix. You fill them at home because they’ve save the best part of cannoli creation — packing this little tube — for you! You fill them because you won’t scrimp on cream for yourself.
And of course you fill them at home because “cannoli kit” is the most beautiful elevator pitch I’ve heard this week.
