Last night on No Reservations, Anthony Bourdain visited San Francisco. One of the places he checked out was the Pirate Cat Radio Café in the Mission District, (in)famous for their Maple Bacon Latte ($5). Joe, Michelle, and I went after work to check it out for ourselves.
Milk, maple syrup, and concentrated bacon grease.
Mix and foam the previous ingredients together.
Double shot of espresso.
Top with crunchy chewy powdered bacon bits.
Sweet porky caffeinated goodness. And pure evil.
The maple bacon latte came with a vegan chocolate truffle, which was covered in a scary, unidentifiable pink powder. Sort of guilding the lily if I do say so myself. Perhaps a shot of whiskey in the concoction would have been a better bet. As Bourdain once said, “vegans are the Hezbollah-like splinter faction of vegetarians.” Pink powder is a weapon of mass destruction. But I digress.
Let me just say for the record that I am rabidly pro-pork fat in the most un-kosher/un-halal way possible. After all, I hail from the pig-loving Pacific island of Taiwan, where a common comfort food from simpler times is a steaming bowl of rice mixed with lard and soy sauce. Lard runs through my veins. Liquid pork fat is the lipid love in my beloved Japanese tonkotsu ramen. Pork and maple syrup is certainly not without precedent; they are all over the pork and maple combo up in Québec.
Back to the matter at hand. The maple bacon latte tasted alright at first. The mouth-feel was definitely creamier and richer than a normal latte because of the bacon fat. But as the drink cooled, the bacon grease started to separate and congeal a bit, feeling a bit heavy.
But that part was ok. My biggest issue was with the smell. The porky, smokiness smell was more off-putting than the presence of bacon grease in my coffee. If anything, the bold flavors the maple and the bacon overshadowed the coffee. More astringent bitterness from the coffee would have balanced some of the cloying sweetness and lipid overload.
My palate was craving something. Perhaps a bit more saltiness to bring out the flavors. Or some freshly ground pepper (or something spicy) to tie together the sweetness of the maple with the richness of the bacon. Or maybe a shot of whiskey to help it all go down.
Needless to say, none of us could finish our drinks, but I guess that’s hardly the point. If reading Tony’s books and watching his show have taught me anything, it is to go with the flow and take in the local attitude and charm.
I may have enjoyed it more if the weather were colder, or if I were hung over or something. Hanger helper or breakfast of champions perhaps. Gut bomb, for sure. But definitely not an ideal after-work-on-a-Tuesday kind of beverage. But that’s my bad. We probably should have went for beer (or whiskey) somewhere.
Definitely a worthwhile once-in-a-lifetime experience. I thought I was going to have a heart attack walking up the hill on my way home. For sure, there are worse ways to die, but alas, I live to tell the tale. Despite eating some pineapple to clear my palate, I can still smell swine on my breath three hours later. Thanks for the thrills Tony! The LOLs are on us.
T minus 3 days until NYC.