Sweet Spot

I’m not a sweets eater — not unless it’s something magnificent. I love a really flaky scone with my morning coffee. I’ll indulge in pecan pie with heavy cream at Thanksgiving. And my husband is addicted to a combination of dark chocolate and halvah that I must admit is a mighty aphrodisiac.

But ordinarily, I prefer dry wine, salty snacks, and savory food.

At the Sample Room one night last week, I made an exception. It’s no secret that I adore this place — every food critic has a few restaurants that he or she patronizes *personally* (as in, when they’re meeting friends and actually picking up the tab) and the Sample Room is in my top five. I love the ambiance, the simple but quality wine list, the fresh, uncomplicated food.

And whereas I won’t heed the recommendation to try a sweet wine from much of anyone, I will here. Which is how I ended drinking the Peltier Station Petite Sirah 2005.

This wine is *not* as sweet as I’d feared it would be. Or rather, it was at first — simple and fruity and full of berry juices — but then it changed on my tongue, becoming ever-so-slightly (and pleasantly) tannic, with the clean flavor of wood.

Shortly after I finished the glass, however, chef Peter Maccaroni appeared with a blackberry cobbler he wanted me to try. Now, ordinarily, as I say, I wouldn’t be inclined. . . .But this is Chef Maccaroni, after all, so I took a bite and was entranced: fat, juicy blackberries swimming in a compote spiked with mace (spicier than cloves — closer to pepper than most dessert flavors dare be) and topped with just a smidgen of buttery crinkle-cut crust.

It turns out, Maccaroni has a pastry fetish. He’s a chef’s chef, a line cook — but he’s always had the yearning to try out pies and sweets. Since becoming top guy at the Sample Room he’s been expanding the after-dinner options. Lucky us.

And if this weren’t enough, the bartender snuck over with a bottle of something I’d never heard of before: Toschi Nocello Walnut.

Now, I swear, this liqueur is not my thing. It’s thick and syrupy and as confectionery as wedding cake. But there was something about that slippery slope down (or up?) into the hinterlands of sugar that made me weak. So I sipped this liquid that was full of gold and walnuts, while eating Maccaroni’s cobbler and left quivering with a sweetness that is — I assure you — utterly unlike me.