Solving an "Age Old Dilemma"

Introducing: My #1 Favorite Product of 2023

In the middle of the New York summer on one of those sticky days where the pavement feels like a deli griddle, I found myself on a cataloguing mission for The Locavore Guide in south Brooklyn. Days like this make my worst winter walking days seem like a cute little bundled jaunt around the city. Alas, the work must be done, regardless of the season or weather. Avoiding sunburn, dehydration and sweat-provoked chafing is a serious challenge when you’re spending the whole day out, in motion, multiple days in a row. Not to mention the grime that acquires on my face — I could slough it off with a spatula, and have made a habit of keeping a stash of wipes and mini skincare in my tiny bag of essentials. On these days, I look like I walked out of a desert hiking advertisement and into an urban environment. 

It was late afternoon, and it was time for my hourly water break. In order to keep myself from losing track of time, I set a timer to alert myself when my hour is up so I can make a conscious effort to drink some water, reapply my sunscreen and maybe find a snack. This often takes the form of a Hal’s seltzer, a banana and maybe a Hot Beef Chevy from the nearest bodega, but on the edge of Dyker Heights, the closest I could find was a bagel shop. After locating the water, I got in line behind the one other customer, and something on the messy counter caught my eye. It was an open display box with flat bars stacked in it branded simply as “Cannoli Bar”. I’ve been in hundreds of such shops in every corner of every borough over the past year, and thought I was well-acquainted with the unique regional offerings, but this was a new specimen for me. I quickly grabbed two bars, paid for everything and returned to the sidewalk to find a shady place to observe more closely. 

My eye was drawn to two things: the hand-holding, dancing cannoli in the top right corner, and the photo of an actual cannolo* on the bottom left. The back of the package has a block of text that reads: 

“The Cannoli Bar was invented to solve an age old dilemma that Italian bakers have longed to overcome. Here at Cannoli Bar Corp., we have done just that! We have found a way for you to enjoy quality cannoli with Ariola’s Famous Traditional cannoli shell and cannoli cream flavor. The Cannoli Bar stays crunchy and fresh and requires no refrigeration. Wow! Buon Appetito!”

Sitting on a bollard on the side of the road, I opened the package and was delighted to find that each rectangle has the word “Cannoli” stamped on it. I broke off a piece, placed it in my mouth and was immediately impressed to notice the hint of cinnamon you’d find in the filling of actual cannoli. Despite being drowned in something white chocolate-esque, the chunks of cannoli shell were indeed still crunchy. The easiest thing I can liken Cannoli Bar to is a Hershey’s Cookies n’ Cream bar, but cannoli-flavored. 

The “age old dilemma” of cannoli perishability is something I’ve never considered, but the sogginess of cannoli is. To me, an Italian-American who grew up in a house where cannoli were made fresh each year for Christmas Eve, the cannoli of New York City are divided into two camps — not good and bad, but pre-filled and filled-to-order. The number of highly esteemed Italian bakeries who do not offer filled-to-order cannoli is something I find consistently disappointing. My previous favorite cannoli at Caffé Dante (RIP) has been replaced with Grimaldi Bakery in Ridgewood, but sometimes Ridgewood is too far for a cannoli fix. Most frequently, I turn to the bakery closest to my apartment, which offers the innovation of cannoli filling dip, sold alongside a container of shell chips — a solid option for a cannoli girl who lives alone. As you can imagine, Cannoli Bar has been a revelation to me, and ticks all of the boxes for a Very Good Product: 

• Charming and decidedly uncool packaging

• Locally made

• Quality product, made with pride

• No attempt to compromise integrity with buzzy trends or health properties

Upon arrival back to my apartment, I spent some time researching Cannoli Bar, and apart from the copy on the website, there was little to be found. What I did learn is that they’re made by Ariola Foods, a 100-year-old Italian bakery in Farmingdale, New York and can only be found through select retailers. I’ve purchased them from Economy Candy ($2.25/ea) and from a small number of delis in South Brooklyn, as pictured below. In truth, I’ve been largely gatekeeping this product for the majority of the year for the same reasons anyone gatekeeps anything these days: to maintain the smugness of having “discovered” something, and to prevent it from being ruined by over-exposure. This holiday season, though, I realized that I was being entirely too selfish in keeping my Favorite Product of 2023 to myself, so I ordered two boxes of bars and have been distributing them to friends all over town for the past month. The general consensus is: “WOW! It tastes like a cannoli*! Having since returned to research Cannoli Bar for the sake of writing about it, I found this funny and wonderfully earnest local news segment, which shocked me by sharing that Cannoli Bar is actually a NEW product that’s been in development by the Ariola family for years.

You heard it here first, folks: Cannoli Bar will be the hot new Made in New York product of 2024. In lieu of reflecting or sharing goals for the New Year, this is precisely the kind of information I’d like to leave you with as we leave this wretched year behind. In many ways, my discovery of Cannoli Bar has become representative of much of my 2023 experience — you never know what you’ll find on a messy bagel shop counter when you lead with curiosity. 

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*At the risk of sounding pedantic, I’d like to share a note on Italian grammar with you: the i at the end of cannoli indicates a plural. The singular for cannoli is cannolo. In the language of Italian-American, we tend to use cannoli (singular) and cannolis (plural) but beware — you will be corrected when using the improper tense when actually in Italy, and will be left feeling like a fool as a glaring Sicilian nonna prepares your cannolO.