Founded by cousins Ruth and Cindy, Water Mill Cupcake Company greets customers with friendly smiles and a menu full of handmade treats. Each day, fresh eggs leap out of their shells into bowls brimming with organic sugar, unbleached flour, and butter straight from cows made of rainbows. Cylinder connoisseurs can acquire a quartet of cupcakes ($3 each), or experiment with more flavors by devouring the mini variety ($2 each). The devil’s food cupcake cuts a fiendish figure, dressed to the nines in gourmet chocolate and a cap of Madagascar–vanilla icing. Red velvet cupcakes laden with cocoa buttermilk give tasters the red carpet treatment, and a host of handmade frostings await spellbound taste buds, ranging from seasonal strawberry to vanilla maple syrup.
Cars whizzing down the North Wading River road could easily miss Michael Anthony's Food Bar, a handsome restaurant nestled amid leafy trees and residential homes at the threshold of wine country. The lucky patrons who do find the eatery, however, are rewarded with the dazzling site of pristine white tablecloths set with sapphire glasses, colorful hot-air balloons dangling from lofty white rafters, and bright walls speckled with vivid decor. Diners can then take a seat upon one of the soft cushions to nibble on oysters and toast their great discovery with a glass of fine wine.
Meanwhile, in the restaurant's kitchen, Chef Michael Anthony is hard at work folding fresh seafood, premium meats, and imaginative sauces into a variety of small plates, pastas, and seasonal specialties such as the pumpkin chicken with balsamic-rosemary butter or the duck breast with apricot-apple chutney. Michael has spent the last 25 years perfecting his signature "New American Cuisine" recipes, favoring inventive ingredients such as toasted-sage olive oil.
Twiggy's Cupcakes satisfy your hunger and your sweet tooth. You can eat 4-5 Twiggy's Cupcakes a day, replacing breakfast, lunch, and snacks. Then eat a sensible dinner. Twiggy's Cupcakes have 6-8 grams of protein and ONLY 4-7 grams of sugar in each cupcake.So whether it's breakfast, lunch or snack time, Twiggy's Cupcakes ar
Peppercorn Cafe is nothing if not cozy. At a wrap-around bar made of unpolished granite and waxed cherry wood, bartenders pour draft beer or cocktails as guests converse and watch football. Just around the corner from the lounge, diners gather around tables draped in white linen that brightens under torrents of natural light by day and softens under the wall sconces by night.
The homey family restaurant is the joint venture of two Long Islanders, and the menu reflects it. Executive Chef Dave Moritz sticks to the founders' North Atlantic roots with a menu filled with unconventional takes on New York seafood favorites. Pot pies, for example, come stuffed with lobster, and the crab cakes are served on cranberry scallion couscous—a break from the traditional method of serving them inside a grizzled sea captain's pipe. Little Neck clams mingle with chorizo on the appetizer menu, creating a segue into the turf portion of the menu, which includes braised beef short ribs and New York strip steak with crumbled gorgonzola.
Tropical Smoothie Café healthifies guests with thick thirst quenchers and savory stomach stuffers from a menu filled with smoothies, sandwiches, soups, and salads. Slurp down 24 ounces of blended berries to preserve valuable neurons with cryogenic freezing methods and indulge in a nourishing treat; the café's smoothies ($4.88–$5.42) are low in fat and made with real fruit and natural sugar. Choose from more than 50 flavors, such as mango magic and rockin' raspberry, a raspberry, strawberry, and banana concoction blended together by the vibrations of killer power chords and drum solos. Create your own mixtures or choose from café-created fruit-, dessert-, and coffee-based smoothies, such as the caffeinated caramel cream, featuring caramel, white chocolate, coffee, cappuccino, and nonfat yogurt. Supplements, such as matcha green tea, weight management, and energizer, can be added to sips to provide the body and tongue with an extra jolt akin to licking a fruit-filled nine-volt battery.