Okay, this blog is by Alex.
I usually like to stay behind the scenes but true confession: this Bon is about an ex boyfriend and I think we should just talk about it, okay? So I used to date this guy that was a chef, a great chef, who will remain unnamed and who made carrots that were so good you'd think they were grown in heaven, grilled in hell and crowned king of The Hidden Valley. They were so good. He was so talented that it made me nervous, and I've been in kitchens for a long time.
He kept talking about this Atlantic Beach Pie, and how I should make an Atlantic Beach Pie Bon, and I am sure that he was right but I didn't want to because I was just nervous, and it felt weird and I kind of just wanted him to make me a full Atlantic Beach Pie and then eat that instead and just forget about the Bon.
Atlantic Beach Pie is special. The most special thing about it is that it uses saltine crackers to form the crust. Which is a great idea. Saltine crackers are always a great idea. Saltine crackers remind me of my grandma, I will always love them, the cheaper the better, just don't let them get stale. The other special parts about Atlantic Beach Pie include a bunch of citrusy custardy goodness that evokes expletives.
Anyway, I broke up with the guy (because he just wan't my man) but couldn't forget about the Bon, he was totally right! He was always right, he's such a good cook! Ugh.
I went the maple route because when I made the saltine ganache it had this texture like a crystalized caramel (which when you add maple syrup a caramel is quite easy to crystalize). The butter/cracker combo melted in your mouth like the sugar crystals from my childhood's oh-so-familiar box of who-knows-how-old gas station truffles. I loved it. It was so against the rules but so good it didn't matter. And, it gave me the excuse to buy those petite crouton situations I had been eying in the "international aisle" (or, let's call it an isle to sound fancy) at Meijer (which we, for the purposes of this post will pronounce aristocratically as mey-yey).
So basically, when you eat it, and first it's all the same texture but then you have to different structures breaking down in your mouth at a similar speed but in a different way. Make sense? The thing is, when it's in your mouth, by the time it registers, all that is left is the grounding end note and wild ride of a really good dark chocolate shell.
And although he wasn't super salty, the Bon was, that maple, the saltine cracker, a little Maldon because he's a chef and ex boyfriends make me uncomfortable and salt is good (why am I rationalizing salt?). There was some real beauty in the contrast that happened. It's called The Salty Sap. Because well, it is salty sap. I just want to make it clear, it's named "Salty Sap" and it's a Bon after an ex, but I don't mean to call him a salty sap, but I would like to call other ex boyfriends salty saps, so it's going to remain The Salty Sap because it's appropriate in Bon and in human by association and it's fun to say.
Bon appétit, you heart breakers! Good luck out there.