Chèvre, meet crust

When cheesecake cops a 'tude

By RYAN ROSE WEAVER

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Did you own a Cabbage Patch doll or a Tamagotchi as a kid? Or once stocked your closet with slap bracelets or Starter jackets? At one point, it just seemed like ephemeral fads were ubiquitous. They fulfilled some heretofore unarticulated need, and everyone else seemed to have them.

It seems that restaurants also fall prey to the same human instincts that govern all trends: A recipe, a suggestion or an en vogue ingredient can kick off a Tipping Point-style movement, suddenly rendering inventive turns on previously canonical foods like pizza, mac & cheese and fries.

As an ode to comforting cacao, the flourless chocolate torte has taken over almost every dessert menu. But what of classic cheesecake? Its revampage has recently emerged as ... chèvre cheesecake.

In its trendsetting nascence, the goat cheese dessert actually made an appearance a decade or so ago, when Charlie Trotter, Chicago restaurateur extraordinaire, released a chèvre cheesecake recipe. When you think about it, the logic behind the construction is perfect. Chèvre's slightly bittersweet taste lends a dash of umami where before there would have only been sweet cheese with syrupy sauce, making a guileless '50s favorite into a stylish, sophisticated dish. Back then, it may have served as the perfect vehicle for a creative chef in more conservative times: Take a non-mainstream ingredient (goat cheese), enrobe it within the familiar trappings of fruit and crust, and serve it with a "what's the big deal?" smile.

Goat cheese, now a hugely popular ingredient, signifies the food world's fascination with small farms; boutique dairy products; low-fat, lactose-free alternatives to cow's milk; locally made foods (New England's cheese products are getting better by the second), and slightly challenging ingredients. Dressed up in accessories befitting a post-millennial dessert, chèvre cheesecake pairs perfectly—and intriguingly—with both sweet counterbalances (like made-from-scratch sorbet) and savory accoutrements (like cilantro).

Here are two canonical quintessential chèvre-cakes from around the city, served in drastically different ways, each one completely representative of its uptown or downtown kitchen. In either version, each is enough to make your palate bleat with joy.

RADIUS

Known for their painstaking, petite plates of daring food, it's no surprise that Radius should be ahead of the game with its goat cheese and huckleberry cheesecake ($12), which is as close to perfect as we think it could be. Retaining all of chèvre's incredible salty sweetness (with none of its chalky, chunky texture), the cheese lies like a smooth pat of buttercream underneath a buckwheat tulle and a rosebud-shaped scoop of huckleberry ice cream. For those who can't surrender their sweet tooth, this chèvre-cake is a perfect introduction to the dish. We find that the lightness of Saracco Moscato d'Asti 2007—which, like the dessert, straddles the border between sweet and dry—makes for an ideal pairing.

[8 High St., Boston. 617.426.1234. radiusrestaurant.com]

AUDUBON CIRCLE

Audubon used to serve the aforementioned faddish flourless chocolate cake, so it makes sense that they have replaced it with this dessert du jour. Audubon's chèvre cheesecake ($8) comes served as a sort of deconstructed Oreo, with a bittersweet chocolate crust. Rather than being sweet like the grocery store favorite, or smooth and sophisticated like homemade Oreos, this chèvre-cake is small but strong, crumbly but cohesive, demanding that you turn your attention from your friends and your cocktail, and focus. The only way to placate it is to order a stout, which will bring out the flavors in both the bitter chocolate and the sweet-ish cheese.

[838 Beacon St., Boston. 617.421.1910]