Foo Foo

Judging by the crowd at Foo Foo on a Monday night, plated dessert cafés are a huge gap in an industry still plagued by lazy iterations of hollandaise on egg. I suppose, after all, people do want chocolate shards branching out of their pudding or tuile splinters leaning nonchalantly against their ice cream. And even if Foo Foo isn’t flawless, it’s a fine pioneer in what could be an oncoming fad in KL.

The parlour is fitted out to a tee – lots of forest green shades to soothe the eye, soft throw cushions squeezed into graphic prints, and rattan shaped into coffee tables and chairs. Bonus: The Foos and their team are incredibly warm, and the very lovely Keith will take you through the menu if you’re a first-timer. Linger you will.

Because every table around me is adorned with it, I order the crispy profiteroles with salted caramel coffee ice cream (RM22). The ice cream is very, very nice and I imagine it with many other wonderful things (sticky date pudding! Gingersnap ice cream sandwiches! Affogato!). But the profiteroles point to signs of overcooked choux roux, dried out and slightly bitter. The candied oranges at the bottom are fine on their own, but the bringing together of citrus with caramel and coffee is a case of too many cooks.

The pavlova (RM23) fares far better. It’s a towering pillow of egg whites, layered to great heights. I make a beeline for the crispy, shattering edges, the dessert equivalent to the crunchy bottom of lasagne. The billowing lime Chantilly atop the meringue tastes like a tropical beach holiday, and bless the team for piping what looks like an entire tub onto each portion. If you don’t want to watch yourself cry in front of your bathroom mirror, don’t attempt to finish this on your own.

Perhaps the best thing I order is the strawberry tart with balsamic vinegar ice cream (RM27), as classic a combination as they get. The impressively short crust is filled with crème patisserie, strawberry compote and thinly sliced strawberries, all of which are fated to always be together, huddled on a dessertspoon in loving embrace. The house-made ice cream – so dense you could almost feel it gliding in smooth globs down your throat – goes on to prove that ice cream is Foo Foo’s forte.

The red wine-poached pears (RM29) too are well done, but once again, the ice cream shines, this time a fragrant rose petal flavour. But what disappoints is the accompanying walnut tuile – dry, burnt and as bitter as regret. Even if the ice cream is quite lovely, it’s a plate that lacks harmony, and is short of the urgent, unrequited deliciousness that both the pavlova and tart provide.

Meanwhile, the hot chocolate (RM12), marked as ‘Belgian’ on the menu, is a dessert on its own – just right in sweetness, lightness and consistency. But skip the version made with rose petal-infused milk; it’s a bizarre battle of rose and chocolate with you trying to mediate. In a café as refined as Foo Foo, I also wish for the teas to be of the loose leaf kind in teapots instead of RM10 teabags. But that, I’m afraid, in a city as fair as ours, is a wish too far.