Display of Confections
Bakery & Edible Art Gallery
Lark St., Albany, 445-2727. Open 10-8 Tue-Wed, Sun, 10-9:30
Thu-Sat. AE, D, MC, V.
baked goods, coffee
price range: most confections are under $5
Crisan has a master’s degree in metalworking. Her husband,
Ignatius Calabria, has a master’s in music ed. Is there a
rewarding career in which they can combine their specialties?
Of course: baking.
It’s not as improbable as it may sound. Claudia, a native
of Romania, grew up in a family of bakers, and her parents
still operate three retail stores in that country. “Mother
was always a baker,” says Claudia. “She got good training
in the early part of the Communist regime, but then Ceausescu
came into power and everything changed for the worse.”
Claudia learned traditional recipes from her mother, as well
as “a style of working that you don’t find anymore.”
met at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia,” says Ignatius.
“We married, and Claudia emigrated here.” He reflects on that
statement, then decides: “It sounds so unromantic.” His aunt
and uncle in Woodstock were among those encouraging them to
open their own place, and he discovered that this Albany property
was available. Claudia and Ignatius bought it and went to
work. “We pretty much gutted the place,” says Ignatius, “and
every surface we removed revealed surprises. Surprises we
had to fix.”
Crisan has been open a baker’s dozen months, in a Lark Street
space that was the Carosello Bakery once upon a time, and
more recently was Roberto’s Italian Deli. The front of the
store looks, upon first glance, like a traditional bakery,
but there’s a gelato case in front with a rainbow of flavors
that may waylay you from buying anything else. A few tables,
both inside and out, are there to facilitate consumption.
An espresso machine sits nearby. The cappuccino is very old-world,
not the mammoth Americanized servings. And then there’s the
case of confections. Pastries, cakes, cookies, tiny marzipan
animals. If the look of an item doesn’t immediately suggest
extraordinary craftsmanship, the texture and cascade of flavors
The kitchen is spacious, with large prep tables, a pastry
roller, convection oven, coolers and lots of storage. And,
incongruously (yet sensibly), a sofa.
Claudia bends over an oddly shaped cake that turns out to
be a pastry version of a “onesie,” a baby’s bodyshirt. Alongside
is a magazine photograph of the finished product. “I was asked
to do this for a party,” she explains. “They brought me this
picture to copy.” The replication is uncanny. As we talk,
she’ll fashion the tunic’s buttons and borders and even craft
a confectionary tag that hangs alongside and reads, “Congratulations.”
always wanted to do this kind of work,” Claudia explains.
“Food has always been part of what I do. I’d already been
making edible jewelry before we opened here, and we needed
a place for it.”
Imagine a spun-sugar corsage, colored to match the bridesmaids’
outfits. Or, as I saw during a recent musically themed fund-raising
event, a guitar festooned with spun sugar and candies. Or
a wedding cake with delicate sugar wings.
Claudia makes edible jewelry “only for very special events.
People have to be careful with it—you can’t hug one another.”
She shrugs philosophically. “They either get it or they don’t.”
As for the pastries, they’re assembled with homemade crusts
(and anyone who’s ever tried to craft a puff pastry knows
how daunting it can be) and handpicked chocolate. And none
of the oil or shortening American bakers tend to favor.
We study an array of such creations. “You need to give the
cakes time to get used to the room,” says Claudia, explaining
why we haven’t yet plunged into them. “This is a génoise,
this is a flourless recipe, and this is a dacquoise.” The
first has the airy quality unique to this classic leavening-free
style; the second is thick with chocolate; the third, a creamy
cakes aren’t just for dessert,” Ignatius observes. “They’re
not as sweet as traditional desserts, so they don’t have to
come just at the end of a meal.” He offers an opinion that
reminds me why I shouldn’t live near his bakery. “They’re
very satisfying between meals.” Oversweet they may not be,
but they’re still difficult to finish, and bargain-priced
at less than $5 apiece. “They probably are priced too low,”
says Claudia, “but we want people to try them.”
She brings out a slice of coconut cake to sample. “I’m not
crazy about coconut,” she says in a matter-of-fact manner
that in no way diminishes my anticipation of sampling this
item. “But I think it holds the flavor together.” This it
does, in a multilayer extravaganza of tart and tangy richness.
The pinkness of a raspberry-topped cake comes from the berries
alone. You won’t be surprised, at this point, to learn that
they use no artificial food coloring. “I’m very excited about
this flourless cake,” she says, “because we have a lot of
people come in who are looking for gluten-free desserts.”
The bakery enjoys a walk-in trade that has increased to the
point where they now estimate that 60 percent of their business
is retail customers. “But we have some solid wholesale accounts,
too,” says Ignatius. They craft 15 to 20 cakes each day, with
recipes changing according to immediate weather conditions
and the flow of the seasons. Confections don’t get much more
handcrafted than that.
We tend to think of “old school” artisans as those in their
twilight years. Here’s a place that offers a refreshing journey—literally—into
an old-school style of craftsmanship performed by younger-
generation talent. Not that you’re going to worry much about
such philosophy once you help yourself to a slice of cake.
here for a list of recently reviewed restaurants.
Mill on Round Lake (2121 Route 9, Round Lake)
has unveiled its newly renovated outdoor bar and
fire pit, and if that’s not enough to persuade
you to spend some al fresco hours here, there’s
also a new bocce ball court. The indoor portion
also has seen improvement, with the addition of
another dining room, fireplace, more restrooms,
and an expanded warm-weather menu soon to come.
Call 899-5253 for more info. . . . Remember to
pass your scraps to Metroland.