For now, though, you’ll find them in dozens of locavore-leaning shops and establishments, such as 61 Local and the Greene Grape.
Her finished product is chewy, with a hint of sweetness, that would be welcome on many street corners. Alexis Farachi, a Bronx-based upstart and baking savant, wanted to change that, so she delved into research to come up with an amazing pretzel that could be sold around town. The first Ghostbusters was playing in theaters the last time anyone bought a decent pretzel from a street cart. A sprinkle of flaky salt lends a satisfying crackle. The pretzels emerge with a spindly interior and puffed-up outer ring, meaning bites alternate between crisp and fluffy.
His folded dough gets a dip in a water bath with food-grade lye, the traditional, fussy prebake ritual that ensures a deep brown color will develop in the hot oven. James Belisle, the house boulanger at Andrew Carmellini’s French café, prepares his pretzels in a kind of cross-cultural “Alsatian” mode. Until, that is, he held a tasting with a spread of different options, and “none of them came even close.” After tasting them, it’s hard to disagree.ģ80 Lafayette St., at Great Jones St.
Werkstatt owner Thomas Ferlesch admits he first dismissed the concept of imported pretzels as nonsense. Following ancient pretzel axioms, its fattest loop is scored so it busts open at the seam, and it has the sting of crunchy salt that pretzels are supposed to have but rarely do, which is why it may seem a cruel irony that these pretzels actually come from a nameless factory based in the suburban outskirts of Munich, shipped from Bavaria to Las Vegas, then trucked into Brooklyn by a distributor. The city’s greatest pretzel is enormous and soulful. 509 Coney Island Ave., at Turner Pl., Prospect Park South 71
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