Bidding Farewell to Summer

Anyone who knows me well knows that I keep a list of potential "Cape Breton Adventures" at the ready on my phone. It's compiled from things I stumble upon online and recommendations I get from friends, colleagues, and (sometimes) complete strangers. Every summer, I set the same goal to make the most out of summer and do something every weekend. While I've technically never actually managed to fully reach that goal, I generally make a good stab at it and achieve it in spirit.

I think my attitude towards vacationing at home was instilled early by my parents. Following years of camping during my early childhood, in the mid-1980s, my parents began clearing a piece of land to build a cottage in Bonne Bay Pond, not far from Gros Morne. Our summer weekends became focused on building the cottage and learning important life lessons (like "water doesn't run uphill" while installing a septic system); visiting friends and family; and taking in the local sights (and sites!). An antique store in Deer Lake, the now defunct Pioneer Village in Wiltondale, the Viking settlement in L'Anse aux Meadows, the Port aux Choix National Historic Site, a roadside museum in Cormack (now replaced by a motel), the Arches, the wreck of the S. S. Ethie... Over the years, we saw them all, punctuated by stories told by my father of the days when he was a salesman traveling up and down the coast. These efforts to be a tourist in your own province first were reinforced by the Girl Guide groups I was involved with, which often held summer camps in the area. With them, I hiked Gros Morne mountain, visited Baker's Brook Falls, strolled the Tablelands, toured Lobster Cove Head Lighthouse, and went on a boat tour of the fjord at Western Brook Pond. I developed an appreciation of all that the west coast of the island had to offer and a love of hidden treasures at home. Now when I return home, I visit my favourite locations (like Woody Point and the Tablelands) and drag my parents to new attractions, like the Mattie Mitchell walking trail, the Nurse Myra Bennett Heritage House, or the 60s diner in Woody Point. (And one of these days, we're getting to the Iceberg Festival.)

When I moved to Cape Breton for the second time in 2011, I decided I should get to know this place better. As people told me about various attractions, I added them to a note on my phone. I imposed no restrictions -- the Bayside for an ice cream was as valid as the Highland Village. One of my local colleagues thought I was ridiculous for wanting to visit the Orangedale Railway Museum (which she hadn't been to since she was a child), but admitted that it was one of the best museum experiences she'd ever had after I convinced her to go with me. Indeed, she's even suggested since that I should start a Cape Breton travel blog to document my adventures and that perhaps one day I'll have a business touring people around Cape Breton. 

I'm certainly not there yet, but my quest to have new experiences for however long I'm here continues. Sometimes it isn't easy. I don't like going places alone and it can sometimes be a challenge to find someone willing and available to go to some of my chosen destinations. I also sometimes am afflicted with fear of the unknown. I'm a planner and often get bogged down in details that threaten the spirit of adventure (and my feeble attempts at spontaneity when opportunities arise). Nevertheless, I persist. 

As summer comes to a close, I've been reviewing 2018's adventures. Verdict? It's been a great summer. 

• I made my annual trip to the Mabou Farmer's Market with a friend on her birthday; we had lunch at the Mull before taking a wrong turn on a dirt road that eventually led us to Iona. We've done this two years in a row (the Mabou Market, not the wrong turn), so it's basically a tradition now, right? Random dirt roads can be fun. I'm glad I was brave enough to continue and not turn around. 
• I made my annual pilgrimage to Ribfest with a new coworker. I tried Billy Bones for the first time. It was delicious!
• I walked the boardwalk in Sydney with a delightful gentleman before having a drink on the patio at Flavor on the Water. I've always wanted to sit out there and it was as lovely as I thought it would be. A great date location if you're in search of one. 
• I drove to Big Glace Bay Beach with a new friend and, while we didn't have the time or inclination to swim that day, I now know it exists and will one day go back! Why hasn't anyone mentioned it before? It's going on the list for next summer.
• I took a spontaneous one-day trip to Halifax and on the way back had supper at Mother Webb's. Okay, technically that's not a Cape Breton adventure, but considering all the signs for that restaurant along the highways in Cape Breton, I feel it counts. Why and how that place is still in business is beyond me, but my curiosity has been satisfied. Props to the friend who decided we were going there and masterfully navigated to the restaurant despite the lack of signs. (All those highway signs, but none actually telling you how to find the place once you leave the highway. What's up with that?)
• I travelled to Baddeck with coworkers to take the Amoeba boat tour, which was fabulous. I love being on the water and found the sailboat to be incredibly relaxing. This is definitely worth doing if you haven't already. We hit up Bean There Cafe in Baddeck and CleanWave Restaurant in Wagmatcook to round out the day. 
• I spent an evening at Dominion Beach. Now, I've been there before, but not recently. And this trip was very special for me. I didn't get in any beach visits in 2017 because I was in physiotherapy and chiro for my back. I turned down all beach invitations due to pain and uncontrollable muscle spasms. My last time at Dominion Beach (in 2016) had been a terrible experience and I was afraid to return. My back problem not yet diagnosed and therefore not treated, I couldn't understand why I didn't have the balance or muscle strength to navigate the rocks to get to the deep water and swim. I was heartbroken. This year, though, I was able to plunk myself down on the sand, get up without needing assistance, and wade out into the water without any trouble. Pure heaven. And the company made it even better. 
• I went to my first Pride Parade and attended Crabfest in Louisbourg with friends (I missed the last few). 
• I saw Bill Stevenson at the Cape Breton Jazz Festival. Of course, I do that every year, but it was a new venue and he had a new bass player, so... new!
• I went to the annual Newfie Dinner in the Pier and met a man whose family was originally from Holyrood -- my family has connections there. 
• I walked around Open Hearth Park for the first time and admired the sculpture. I loved it and can't help but wonder why it took me so long! I definitely hope to go back and explore other directions. I also totally am going to hit up that splash pad at some point when I'm not wearing my beloved Birkenstocks.
• I had a scallop dinner at Hardy's. It was delicious. We sat at the picnic table. I'd love to dine "al fresco" more. I need to dine on my own balcony more.
• I had brunch at Old Triangle. We arrived on a Saturday just under the wire and the brunch menu was still available. Many of you know that I'm a breakfast/brunch person and with friends I've been trying different restaurants for the past few years. I enjoyed this one and would definitely go back again, but they need better coffee. 
• I sat outside a friend's apartment and listened to an outdoor concert at the nearby hotel. It was my first time hearing Ashley MacIsaac live. I met new people and reconnected with friends. And maybe most importantly, I enjoyed the cooler evening temperatures. 
• I had supper at the Lobster Galley at St. Ann's. I had seafood risotto and ginger cake. My curiosity was satisfied and I had a great chat with a friend. I now have to find a recipe for ginger cake and add it to my repertoire. 
• I went on my first picnic. Maybe I've read too many romance novels, but I've always loved the idea of a picnic. In fact, I give picnic baskets (usually the backpack kind) as wedding presents because I think it's the perfect gift. I bought my own traditional wicker one from an old man at a flea market several years ago, but had never found anyone willing to picnic with me -- until this summer. Armed with cold chicken, salad, and chocolate peanut butter keto fat bombs (admittedly, that last item isn't a traditional picnic food, but it sure was delicious), we headed to East Bay Sandbar. It was my first time stopping there, though I had driven by once before. What can I say? It was one of my favourite nights this summer. Stretched out on a blanket. looking at the water, talking about life. Something so simple and yet so special in the often frantic and excessive world that we now live in. It was lovely. I need more of this in my life.
• I went to a beach fire at a friend's. While I often sat around campfires back home and beach fires in St. John's, I have never done either here in Cape Breton. Great conversation and beautiful surroundings with friends who have become more like family to me. And it was quite the night for stargazing. I don't think I've ever seen the sky like that. I'm grateful that our fire keeper insisted we move closer to the water and really take the time to look up. Next time, I'm bringing a blanket and I'm just going to lie down on the beach and gaze for a few hours. 
• I had breakfast at Goat Island View Cafe in Eskasoni. Since it opened, it's been on my list of potential breakfast spots, especially since it is co-owned by one of my students. A delicious breakfast with portions large enough that I have breakfast for tomorrow as well. And the price was right. I appreciate the company of a friend who always says yes to anything I propose. 

As summer slips away and I face the start of another academic year, I feel happy with this summer's adventures, shoehorned in and around my regular work and my extracurricular research projects. I've also enjoyed movies with friends, impromptu trips to Glace Bay to eat donuts, ice cream from the usual locations, and conversations with people I care about.

It's certainly been one of the best summers yet (although, I could have done without the humidity) and I am grateful to everyone who shared in an adventure with me. 

I hope you'll all be on the roster next summer. 

I Thought There Was An Intruder In My Apartment

Since completing my Professional Chocolatier course, I haven't had much reason to blog. It's been too hot and humid to engage in kitchen experiments, and life has been somewhat busy as I attempt to squeeze as much enjoyment out of summer as humanly possible for an introvert. One of my favourite evenings so far was spent at Dominion Beach -- I just love being in the ocean and walking barefoot in the sand! I've also had delightful breakfast and brunch dates, taken day trips to Mabou and Halifax, enthusiastically consumed delicious food at Ribfest and Crab Fest, attended the Pride Parade, and taken in a concert at the Jazz Festival. In and around all of this, I've had a chapter published by Oxford UP, done the final edit of a chapter for a forthcoming collection, and made significant progress on an ongoing research project (fun with transcriptions!) with a plan to submit an article to a journal in the coming months. Add to the mix my actual job and you can understand why I needed a vacation from my blog.

Today, however, I felt the urge to share a recent experience with you. As some of you who follow this blog already know, a while back I became trapped in a YouTube vortex watching videos about bullet journals. What you likely don't know, because I haven't been blogging, is that I actually gave in and started a bullet journal about 5 weeks ago, despite my initial skepticism. It's a simple layout that I've developed to accomplish weekly tasks (like cleaning) and bigger goals (like finishing the fibre arts journal article), and to record good things and funny happenings (a little positivity in the mayhem we call life). It's more functional than it is pretty, and I'm ok with that.

Well, in the process of setting up my bujo and making task lists, I also did some reflecting. And one of the things I realized is how much I neglect the floors in my apartment. I swiffer and/or vacuum if I have company coming, but otherwise the dust just sort of collects. I often feel extreme guilt about it, but that doesn't motivate me to take action to fix the situation. And while I know that I technically do have time to clean, I either am so busy with work and other activities that I just want to enjoy downtime or the prospect of moving furniture to do a good job is just overwhelming. I needed a better solution.

My friend Diane has always said that if there is a problem that can be solved by throwing money at it, then you should throw the money. The obvious solution was a robotic vacuum and, I admit, for the past two years, I've considered getting one. I haven't because of the price. "Perhaps this year a robotic vacuum should be my Christmas to-me-from-me-gift," I thought aloud as I absentmindedly typed into the search bar of Amazon. The results focused my mind. There before my eyes was a robotic vacuum for 50% off. After reading a few reviews and confirming the quality of the brand, I impulsively purchased it. Christmas in July, anyone?

My Deebot M81 Pro arrived about a week later. I was very excited to run it for the first time. I set up the docking station in my hallway, charged the robot, and then hit the "auto" button on the remote. I watched it zigzag and wondered how long it would take before Deedee (yes, I named my robot) found her way down the hall. I went and sat on my sofa. Sure enough, about 5 minutes later, Deedee came hurtling down the hallway, taking a boot tray with her. I had read in the user manual that it was important to clear any wires or fringes from her path, but never thought she could move a boot tray. She's more powerful than she appears. I watched her work for about an hour and periodically moved things (chairs, piano bench, rolling chocolate cart) so that she could cover as much ground as possible. She did a very thorough job before returning to her docking station.

Brilliant.

A few days later, I again ran her on auto in my bedroom and office. Clean carpet is grand. A few days after that, I ran her in the living room and was once again impressed with her work. The next time I ran her, on a Friday evening, I used the manual remote function to spot clean. It's sort of like having a remote control car -- or so I imagine, since I never had one as a kid. Anyway, as I was directing her around the apartment, I accidentally hit the wrong button on the remote, but quickly rectified the situation (or so I thought) and sent her back to her docking station. I had an incredible sense of satisfaction that my floor was so clean. It was the same sense you get after doing laundry -- feeling like you have your life together because you have clean underwear. I know you know that feeling.

Well, I went about my business doing my Friday night meal-planning and grocery list-writing, and went to bed around my usual time. I haven't been sleeping great because of the humidity, but it seems exhaustion took over and I fell into a solid sleep. Solid, that is, until I came fully awake after hearing a loud crash.

I thought there was an intruder in my apartment.

I sat up in bed in a full-on panic. What was going on? How did someone get in? What was I going to do? I put on my glasses and got out of bed and moved towards my bedroom door. That's when I realized I could hear a motor running. I stepped into the hallway and there was Deedee: hurtling herself toward the living room, dragging my straight iron with her. I chased after her, grabbed the straightener, and put it back in its place. Then I ran down the hallway and got the remote so that I could send her back to her docking station. It was 5:21am. Exactly 12 hours after I had accidentally hit that button on the remote.

Groggily I reviewed the user manual and discovered the button I hit was the scheduling function. Hold it for three seconds and it will clear the schedule. "Lovely," says I. Problem solved. And off to the pool I went.

I thought nothing more of it until that night (Saturday) when I once again came wide awake at midnight. I could hear Deedee once again hurtling herself down the hallway. Off to the living room I sprinted to get the remote and send her back to her docking station. I googled the problem. Apparently, if you set a cleaning schedule and then cancel it, the default is for the robot to clean every night at midnight. Who thought that was a good idea? Grumbling, I followed the robot reset instructions in the manual. "There. Problem solved," I said and went back to bed.

On Sunday night, I went to bed at my usual time. I slept fairly solidly. When I woke up at 4am, I was feeling great. Deedee hadn't woken me up at midnight, so clearly the reset had worked. I made my way to the bathroom. On my way back to my bedroom, I happened to glance down at the docking station. Deedee wasn't there.

What in the?

I put on a pair of glasses and walked down the hallway looking for her and discovered her next to my sofa, tangled in the power cord for my laptop. I gently picked her up and unwrapped the cord, then set her back down on the floor. I hit the button to return her to the docking station, but her battery was dead, so I lifted her up and carried her back home.

This was getting ridiculous. What was I going to do? Remove her battery and only put it in when I planned to use her? That seemed to defeat the purpose. Sleep with the remote next to my bed? That would only work if I actually woke up while she was running. There was no way I needed my apartment vacuumed every night -- a waste of energy. I also didn't need the frustration of whatever mess she might get herself into. I googled the company and located a customer support email address, and went back to bed.

Later that day, I began an email discussion with the manufacturer. They insisted that a reset of the robot while it was on the docking station was the solution. I would know it was successful if I heard three beeps. I tried it multiple times, but instead of getting the three beeps, the robot shut itself off. Eventually the company offered a replacement robot. Not wanting to go through the process of a return, I decided to try doing a reset with Deedee removed from the docking station. Sure enough, after three seconds, I heard three beeps. And having made it through Monday night without her running on her own, I am hopeful now that everything is back to normal and as it should be.

Now, you may be wondering how I know whether she ran or not, since she would just re-dock herself assuming she didn't get into trouble. I thought about that as well. Last night before bed, I placed an obstacle in her path in the hallway -- light enough for her to move if she does run. It wasn't repositioned when I woke up this morning, so I think I can safely assume she didn't venture down the hallway last night.

Interestingly, one of the selling points of this robot is that there is a smartphone app available. Instead of the remote, you can control the robot using your phone. In fact, if you use that feature, the robot will apparently send you a text message if it gets into trouble while cleaning (for example, tangled in the power cord of one's laptop). While I think that's a neat feature, it's not something that I want or need, since I only plan to run Deedee on auto about once or twice a week when I'm home so that I can move items as required (and supervise). It also is a slightly complicated set-up that requires resetting one's router, connecting the Deebot to wifi, and syncing it with your phone. Just not necessary for my purposes.

But I also can't help but think of Dan Brown's book Origin. If you haven't read it already, then I suggest you stop reading my blog now -- I don't want to be accused of spoiling it for anyone. That book is about artificial intelligence. In it, Winston, a quantum computer AI assistant, orchestrates a murder. Now, I'm not saying that Deedee would be so bold, but I'm not sure I want to take the chance after the somewhat tumultuous start to our relationship.

Very Carefully Saw Off the Edges of the Cookies

A few months ago, a friend of mine found a chocolate bar making set at the local flea market. Knowing I was in a Professional Chocolatier program, she picked it up for me, reasoning that even if the contents of the kit itself weren't any good, the decorative tin that the molds and recipe book came in was worth the deeply discounted price. As I flipped through the recipe booklet, I thought they sounded interesting. I was particularly curious about two that involved shortbread cookies -- one layered with lemon curd and the other with caramel. And so last weekend, I decided it was time to test it out.

I started on Thursday evening making the shortbread cookies for the caramel shortbread chocolate bars. I was immediately suspicious of the cookie cutter included in the kit. It just barely fit inside the bar molds. I couldn't imagine how the resulting shortbread would fit into the molds once they were shelled with chocolate. Nevertheless, I decided to use it. I opened up the recipe booklet and was very confused by the instructions in front of me that called for cream and jam. Then I realized that there was a misprint in the booklet -- though the heading said caramel shortbread, the recipe was for some sort of jam and ganache layered bar. I flipped to the second recipe titled caramel shortbread and proceeded to make the shortbread.

The shortbread recipe was simple enough and it made a small quantity, which was perfect. But there was no salt in it, so I decided to add some for flavour and balance. I cut my cookies, still confused by the size of the cutter, and arranged them on a baking sheet. The instructions called for a 400F oven and 20 minutes of baking. I immediately knew that would lead to burnt shortbread. Instead, I heated my oven to 350F and baked them for 15 minutes -- and even then they were well done (but I assumed that would be an advantage when layering them with caramel). I put them in an airtight container once they cooled.

Then on Sunday I decided to temper some milk chocolate and proceed with making the bars. I painted the silicone molds with two coats of chocolate before sprinkling some pink Himalayan salt into the cavities and then piping in a layer of caramel. Then the moment of truth arrived. I was ready to place the shortbread cookies on top of the pool of caramel.

Well, guess what? They didn't fit. At all.

So I had to place each one on a cutting board and very carefully saw off the edges of the cookies with a serrated knife. There. Now they fit into the shells perfectly. To finish off the bars, I capped them with more milk chocolate and let them set in the fridge for five minutes. Once they were set, I carefully unmolded them and left them to crystallize for 24 hours before wrapping them in foil and pretty scrapbook paper.

The verdict? Well, I have some very pretty chocolate bars and frankly they do taste delicious. The texture of the crunchy shortbread against the creamy caramel and the smooth milk chocolate is great. But silicone molds are dreadful. I was impressed with the shine of the unmolded bars -- something that many say isn't possible with silicone -- but the actual process of shelling and capping was tedious as best. The usual methods of tapping and scraping off excess chocolate just don't work.

Nevertheless, I'm really glad that I had the chance to make these bars using this set. Not only did it confirm the value of polycarbonate molds for production, but also the shape of bar that I'd like to be making. Before making these, I probably would have purchased the rectangular bars with the very sharp corners. But once the bars were unmolded and I was wrapping them, I preferred the ones that were rounded.

I'm also really glad to have taken the time to continue practicing the techniques that I learned in my program and to have experimented with a cookie layer -- which I'm sure I'll do again.

Trapped in a YouTube Bullet Journal Vortex

Back in 2015 when I was off work because I was sick with mono, I passed the days with Pinterest and Netflix. I even ended up pursuing new hobbies, like wood burning, because they were the current trend. In fact, I overdid it so much with both Netflix and Pinterest that I’ve never really gotten back into either. Sure, I still periodically watch something on Netflix because a friend mentions a show or I open Pinterest to find a recipe I pinned during what I've termed "the mono period," but I don’t indulge in marathons all that much anymore.

Last week, however, while I was off work again, I found a whole new vortex in which to become trapped: the black hole that is bullet journaling on YouTube.

Wow. Seriously. Wow.

I mean, I had seen a few videos on bullet journaling over the past two years -- enough to know it was a thing, anyway -- but I hadn’t actually done a deep dive into it as a lifestyle (to call it anything less wouldn’t capture how encompassing it appears to be). There’s little question that the ornate style with hand lettering using brush-tipped markers is beautiful and appealing. But how does one find time to do that? Often the pages are sketched out in pencil first before being traced in pen or marker and enhanced with colour and, of course, populated with content. Custom calendars, spreads, and layouts. Collections of collections (movies, books, bucket lists, podcasts). Habit trackers, meal planners, mood trackers. Social media accounts and their reach. Doodle pages. It seems endless. And how valuable is it?

(Disclaimer: I am aware that the ornate version was not the intent of the original bullet journal method, but it’s become a phenomenon unto itself.)

I recently saw an ever-so-helpful post on Facebook reminding people that they have the same number of hours in their day as Beyonce and that it’s all in how you use your time. I'm not sure comparing oneself to Queen Bey is fair. I bet she doesn’t have to wash dishes or pick up groceries or spend hours on end arguing with telecommunications businesses to get good service at a decent price (an annual saga for many of us).

Still, I understand that we all choose how we invest our time. And I don't in any way judge those who choose to invest theirs in bullet journals. I just would truly like to understand how much time goes into creating these layouts, populating them, and revising them. And beyond that, do they work? Are people getting out of them what they want and need? I've seen a lot of flip-through videos where a layout is described as not having worked for the user or where the user just stopped filling it out part way through the month. More than that, is it really better than the plethora of digital solutions we already have at our fingertips? I already have a Fitbit that tracks my exercise, which I then track in Sparkpeople because I prefer their system. Do I also need to colour a block in my planner? 

I say this as someone who was a devout user of a planner for decades. I always purchased the academic year instead of the calendar year. I liked the week-at-a-glance layout. My preference was for coil bound. But even I -- who in grad school coached a university professor on how to use a planner effectively -- have switched entirely to an electronic calendar. It wasn't by choice -- I still prefer a paper planner. That feeling when you've found the perfect paper and your pencil glides smoothly across the surface as you write cannot be matched! And I still feel lost in August when I am not out shopping for this year's make and model. But, in our tech-based world, I just can't see a reason to duplicate my effort. I would either have to transcribe electronic calendars into analog or vice versa because at work we use calendar invitations. [And I'm aware that for some people it causes frustration if all of an individual's appointments aren't logged there when it comes time to pick a meeting date and time.] So, it just isn't practical.

Still, I love stationary -- and notebooks in particular. Heck, as you all know, I actually make my own as a hobby (for example, this one, this one, and this one). So I feel compelled to get into bullet journaling just to use up my notebooks! At least I did until I found a new black hole on YouTube. There are videos on how to use your notebooks. Clearly, I'm not the only person with this issue.

And so after several hours of watching videos of how to use up notebooks, let me draw the following conclusions to save you some time:
1) They basically just suggest that you expand your bullet journaling to multiple volumes, putting your collections into their own distinct notebooks (for example, a travel notebook, a one-line-a-day notebook, a gratitude notebook, etc).
2) Notebooks can also serve as a practice space for your bullet journaling (hand lettering, borders, etc).

Interestingly, none of the videos I watched suggested you turn an unused notebook into a recipe book -- I guess handwriting recipes is too old school even for the bujo fanatics.

So, what would I do with my notebooks?

I tried a habit tracker. I made a few pages while watching TV. Every time the pen slipped and resulted in a less than perfect line, a little piece of me died. This is not an activity for someone who is Type A or a "perfectionist" -- I abandoned it.

Next, I thought about this blog and how sometimes I find it hard to remember what I've already blogged about or to come up with a topic if I'm in a blogging mood. I decided a log of the posts and their topics at the front of the journal and a list of future blog posts at the back of the journal might actually be helpful. I added dates. When I decided yesterday to schedule a few old posts on Twitter as #ThrowbackThursday content, it was actually helpful -- easier to flip through than to scroll and search on Blogger. But, of course, the Type A in me isn't loving the experience. Somehow while writing out my blog titles, two pages stuck together and upon my final flip-through, I discovered two blank pages right in the middle.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Incredibly annoyed with myself, I sketched out the Blogger logo to fill the space, but will probably eventually take a glue stick to it so that I don't have to be reminded on a daily basis of my error.

I'm really not cut out for this. Too much Brain, not enough Heart for bullet journals maybe?

I think in the future, I'll use my notebooks for note-taking the way I used to in grad school.

I'm still buying the brush-tip markers though...

I Only Need One Good One to Photograph

For a while now, I've been wanting to try making macarons. They seem to have become trendy, based on all of the YouTube videos that have been posted in the last two years. They also seem to be commonly sold at chocolate shops, so during my Professional Chocolatier program, I kept seeing pictures of them in display cases at chocolateries and even stumbled upon packaging for them while conducting research for one of my assignments. While always in the back of my mind, though, they seemed like too much work whenever I was in the mood to make something. There's something about whipping egg whites that just puts a recipe in another category for me.

Then a few weeks ago, I was at Stokes and saw silicone macaron baking sheets. Impulsively, I bought them. And then they sat on my dining room table taunting me until finally I decided I must use them.

Now, everything I've read says that even professionals have trouble periodically with macarons, so you shouldn't be disappointed if they don't work the first few tries. Persistence is key. Fair enough, I thought. I only need one good one to photograph.

And so I separated eggs and sifted almond flour, I whipped and I folded. (As I wrote that, lyrics flashed through my head: "Now watch me whip. Now watch me nae nae...") And I piped.

And I waited.

And eventually, the skin formed and I was able to pop them into the oven to bake. Everything was going beautifully until I took them out. Some were cracked. Some were lopsided. Some seemed to be hollow. They didn't lift from the mat. I put them back in for a few more minutes. And then for a few more minutes. Finally, I gave up hope and took them out to cool, and then put the second tray in.

The second tray seemed to work a bit better, but it certainly wasn't a home run by any stretch of the imagination. Still, I only needed one good one to photograph, right?

I pulled the meringue cookies from the mat, trying not to break them, which proved more challenging than you might expect (considering the mat was silicone). And I whipped some blueberry buttercream to use as the filling, thinking it would pair nicely with the lemon flavoured meringue. And I piped and sandwiched my cookies, trying not to crack them or put a finger through them, before putting them in the fridge for 24 hours (which many say is the mandatory final step). There were more than a few casualties.

And when it was all done, I had one good one to photograph.

Okay, that's not quite true. I had more than one. But not many more. After all of that effort for so little output, there wouldn't be any sharing. (Sorry, peeps!)

I collected the cracked cookies and put them in tupperware for snacking (they still tasted great) and I rationed the remaining lemon macarons filled with blueberry cream cheese filling.

The following day, I did some research to see what might have gone wrong. As it turns out, silicone baking mats, though popular with their circular piping guides, are not recommended for macarons -- and they increase the baking time. I had overfilled them. I also found that I probably had underwhipped the egg whites (despite carefully following a recipe by Anna Olson). Finally, it's likely that I didn't fold my mixture enough.

Determined to master this, just a week ago, I tried making them again and was much more successful. I whipped to stiff peaks instead of soft, I folded the mixture until I could draw figure eights with the batter, and I adjusted the bake time (though I did still use the silicone baking mats). I used a lighter touch piping. And, I'm happy to say that, though it once again wasn't a home run, my yield was much higher the second time around.

I'm thinking third time's a charm...

Have you ever made macarons? How did your first attempt go?

Unbearably Delicious?

When I was home for Christmas, my mother pulled an old recipe book out of the cupboard and suggested I take it back to Cape Breton with me. Now that I had my own place and was amassing my own library of cook books, she reasoned, that's where it should be. I hadn't seen it in decades. Literally. It was The Best Cookie Book Ever! -- self-proclaimed, of course -- that she had bought me at a Scholastic book fair when I was nine years old. I'm guessing it was my first cook book ever.

As I flipped through it, I remembered how much I loved it. The illustrations of the bears and a little grey cat were appealing to me back then -- and the truth is, they still are. They are incredibly cute. As I flipped through the book, I saw my signature from back then. (Not quite as smooth or flowing as it is now.) It seems I enjoyed the puzzles and did them all. At the back of the book, there was a certificate of achievement. I had awarded it to myself and seemingly forged a friend's signature as the person who presented it to me. As the memories of the book came back, I quickly flipped to the only recipe from it that I actually remembered making -- Chocolate Bars. I don't recall how they turned out or if we liked them. I just know that I really wanted to make them. And my mother, as always, indulged me (after a little convincing, as I recall).

What I remember about making these Chocolate Bars was how confused we were by the measurement for the butter. A stick of butter. Sure, that seems silly now -- hundreds, if not thousands, of episodes of Martha Stewart, Anna Olson, Ina Garten, and Nigella Lawson later -- but back then we really didn't know that meant a half cup or a quarter pound. Butter didn't come in sticks and, actually, we didn't even have butter. Back then, margarine was all the rage. And, of course, those were the days when you couldn't just jump onto the internet and google the conversion. How times have changed. I don't remember how much we decided was the right amount of butter/margarine. And I don't remember if we liked the final result. I just remember the great butter debate. Funny how memory works, no?

Since Christmas, I've looked at the recipe book a few times and thought that I should make some of the recipes from it again. And so this week I decided it was the right time to visit the past.

Of course, thirty years later, I now realize how misleading the name of the Chocolate Bars recipe actually is. A kid would read that and expect a chocolate bar. Well, okay, most kids would. The ones who compete on Kid's Baking Championship probably are way more savvy. Anyhoo... The reality is, this is a brownie recipe, which is sort of strange because there is already a brownie recipe in the book. Whatever you call it, it's a chocolate square recipe that claims to be "unbearably delicious" -- so I decided to put it to the test.

Yes, indeed. I opened up the recipe book and followed the kid-oriented instructions (with helpful tips, like turn off the stove/oven as the last step). One of the things that immediately struck me as strange was the suggestion to melt the butter and chocolate on the stove top in a pot. Why wouldn't you just melt it in the microwave, I wondered. Much safer, no? More kid-friendly? Oh yeah. Because thirty years ago, microwaves weren't standard issue the way they are now. So, okay, I deviated from the recipe a little bit and melted my butter and chocolate in a bowl in the microwave. Otherwise, though, I followed along, step by step. And after baking them for 20 minutes, as directed, I pulled them out without testing whether they were done (because the recipe didn't suggest a toothpick test).

I sprinkled the chocolate chips on top, let them sit for five minutes as instructed, and then smoothed the chocolate over the top. Then, sadly, I had to set them aside for an hour or so to cool.

So, the verdict? Are they unbearably delicious?

To my surprise, they are really, really delicious brownies. They have a great dark chocolate flavour and they aren't overly sweet. And the nuts give them a great texture. Best of all, the bake time seems to be spot on. I'm impressed!

Did you have a recipe book as a kid? What do you remember making back in the day?

An Edible Geode

I often like to make something special for my friends when the occasion calls for it. Some of you, for example, may recall a giant peanut butter cup that I made for a birthday last year. It was pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself, but you can be the judge:

Always looking to outdo myself (my mother always says, "You do like to challenge yourself"), I started contemplating ways to make a geode dessert for the same friend this year because of her love of (obsession with?) geodes.

Originally, I was going to make an edible geode using a rock candy method over a modelling chocolate base, like this. Then I considered making a geode cake, drawing inspiration from this video. But once I started the Professional Chocolatier program, I knew what I had to do: an edible white chocolate geode Easter egg.

I had seen a tutorial online that provided a basic method to follow, so as I worked my way through the program, I began planning in my head how I would accomplish my goal. Conveniently, last Easter, I had purchased a set of egg molds. One of them was the perfect size for an impressive geode egg. About two weeks before Easter, I painted the mold with green luster dust and then poured tempered white chocolate into it. I then left it to set a few days. I decided to do a second coat of chocolate to be sure that it was sturdy enough to stand up to the application of candy. And then I left it to crystallize again for a few days. Happy with the thickness and sheen, I was ready to apply the candy.

It took me a few weeks to actually locate the right candy, a quest that consumed much of March. I started with blue raspberry Jolly Ranchers and crushed them a rolling pin. Then I went on the hunt for a lighter blue hard candy and a clear one. I was surprised by just how limited the selection of hard candy was. Maybe it's the time of year or maybe hard candy isn't as popular as it once was. Either way, I couldn't find a single hard candy at Bulk Barn that was any shade of blue (other than the Jolly Ranchers I already had). I resorted to buying two sticks of rock candy in a cotton candy flavour that was a pale blue colour. Then I searched the store for a clear hard candy. Again, the options were surprisingly limited. I chose peppermint. When I got home, I cut the rock candy from the stick with a chef's knife and then broke it apart. I once again attacked the remaining candies with my rolling pin, beating them into submission.

I spent a lot of time thinking about the best way to adhere the candy to the egg. I briefly considered melted chocolate, but figured that it either would take too long to set or wouldn't adequately hold the candy. I also worried about it affecting the temper of the already set egg. Likewise, I considered blue candy melts and then abandoned the idea. In the end, I rewatched the tutorial and decided that royal icing was indeed the way to go. I mixed up a small batch and tinted it sky blue with my cake colours.

I carefully painted the inside of the egg with a thick coat. I then placed my candy into the royal icing -- first the Jolly Ranchers in the centre, then a ring of rock candy, followed by a ring of peppermint. Once it started to set up, it became clear that thinning the royal icing and painting a coat over the top was the best way to keep the candy shards in place -- they melted together and became one candy mass.

Then it was time to add some sparkle. First I mixed gold luster dust with vodka and painted the edge of the egg. While it shimmered a bit, it really didn't read as gold. I decided to buy some bronze luster dust to try. Instead of mixing it with vodka to make a paint, I brushed vodka over the edge of the egg and then with a dry brush applied the dust to the damp edge. This method worked much better. I then added a little gold over top to tone down the bronze. Finally, I used pearl luster dust on a dry brush to enhance the candy with some shimmer. 

And then I weighed it. No, this wasn't really a necessary part of the process, but I was curious. It weighted just under a half pound.

After letting the egg cure for a few days, I packaged it for gifting in a cupcake box I picked up at Michaels. And I have to say, I'm thrilled with the results.

So what do you think? More epic than a giant peanut butter cup?

And more importantly, what's next?

When I Dip You Dip We Dip

One of the techniques that I've been struggling with in my professional chocolatier program is enrobing. Part of the struggle has come from the tempering process and learning to hold chocolate in temper without it becoming over-crystallized. Another part of the struggle has come from using the wrong dipping tools (since remedied). And another part has stemmed from coordination and dipping technique. Consequently, I've decided that I need to practice this to get better at it.

Recently for my birthday, one of my friends gave me a small silicone Easter egg mold. At first I thought I'd use it to mold some fruit gummies, but then I realized I could melt down my gianduja, pipe it into the mold, and then enrobe them. In the words of the Barefoot Contessa, How bad could that be?

I popped out my gianduja eggs once they were set. Then I used the direct method to temper a small amount of milk chocolate and enrobed the little eggs. I like the enrobing method advocated by Callebaut. You take your centre, pop it into the tempered chocolate face down. Then, with the dipping fork, you flip it over in the chocolate, and tap off the excess. I only had about 21 of them, so it was a good number to work with. Previously, my batches had produced 64 (or more) centres -- and I found that tiring. The smaller number was more manageable. Great for practice, but not so many as to result in frustration.

I have to say, I'm happy with the result. These are cute and delicious. Part of me does wish I had more -- I would package them up as gifts for Easter. But I think doing small batches more frequently will do more to develop technique over time.

I bet a peanut butter filling would be amazing too.

What's your favourite Easter egg flavour or filling?

Getting Messy

By now you may have realized that there's about a week delay on this blog. I make something on the weekend, I compose the blog during the week when I have a few minutes, and then I post it on Sunday. So, some of you already know that my most recent kitchen adventure was a messy one: marshmallows.

Now, to be honest, I'm not a huge fan of marshmallows. I mean, I enjoy a s'more once in a while, but I don't care for chocolate-covered marshmallow Santa figures at Christmas or marshmallow toppings on ice cream sundaes. The only time I've bought marshmallows in the past was to make cereal treats, and I could probably count the number of times I did that on one hand.

Nevertheless, among the many master recipes in my professional chocolatier course was one for marshmallows. And in the spirit of trying new things, I decided it was time to make them after years of seeing recipes on Pinterest.

I was very conflicted about the flavour I should make. Fruity? Boozy? I polled friends on facebook, but no consensus emerged. Finally, I decided I would try espresso. Partly this was practical -- I had espresso powder that needed to be used up. And partly it was about flavour -- espresso would work well in hot chocolate or on a s'more (or at least I thought it would) and the bitter, roasted flavour of espresso should help to combat the sweetness of marshmallow.

Now feeling much more confident heating sugar to obscene temperatures, the process really didn't bother me. I got it to 250 degrees like a pro and confidently poured the sugar syrup down the side of my mixer, which had espresso gelatin in it. About 12 or so minutes later, I had marshmallow. And wow was it sticky.

My KitchenAid is a bowl lift model. When I lowered the bowl, all of the marshmallow stayed suspended in the air, attached to the whisk. M'kay...

I sprayed a spatula with some oil and rooted in-between the wires until as much marshmallow fell into the bowl as possible. Then I did my best to scrape the marshmallow into a tray coated with icing sugar to set. Well, that was a laughable process. It really wasn't possible to scrape the bowl clean. At one point I made the mistake of trying to pull marshmallow off the spatula with my fingers. Ooops, that was a mess! Marshmallow on all the surfaces!

I set the pan aside and filled my sink with the hottest water possible to melt away the sugary mess. Surprisingly, the clean up was easier than expected.

And about 6 hours later, after cutting the slab into squares: perfection.

They were dense and pillowy at the same time. I had the little air bubbles that I was supposed to. I tried one and it tasted great -- not too sweet and the espresso wasn't overpowering.

I had my second in a cup of hot chocolate.

I packaged up a few for friends to try.

And then I had my third -- as a s'more made in my toaster oven. OMG. To die for!

This is what marshmallows should taste like.

During the making process, with the sticky mess around me (and on me), I swore I'd never make marshmallows again. But now that I've tasted them, I'm sure that I will.

And so the chocolate and confection adventures continue! What else should I try making? What's your favourite treat?

Maintaining Momentum

Since starting the Professional Chocolatier program in January, I've made seven confections: strawberry rhubarb pate de fruits, strawberry truffles, marzipan espresso bonbons, blueberry ganache bonbons, molasses caramels, port wine truffles, and gianduja bonbons. I've loved the opportunity to try new techniques and flavours -- and I think my friends have enjoyed the samples as well. At this point, the course is pivoting away from recipe development to production planning based in research, but I really don't want to lose the momentum I've gained in the kitchen. It's now up to me to continue challenging myself.

Last weekend, I had intended to take a break from the course (and so begins the slippery slope), because it has been more intense than I'd initially planned for and because the previous week had been very busy, with a trip to Halifax and a jazz gig, in addition to my usual work. But then one of my classmates asked if I could upload her assignment and photos to our discussion forum (Chef's Table) because she couldn't get it to work from her own computer. Always happy to assist (it's the professor in me, perhaps), I resized her photographs for upload and while so-doing began drooling over her image of almond roca. It looked absolutely amazing. (Note: In these assignments, we get to pick what recipes we're going to develop based on a series of parameters. This explains why she was submitting different confections than I was.)

Now, I'd never eaten almond roca, but it seemed as though everything about it was perfect. I'd also never made toffee, so it would be a chance to try something new if I convinced myself to do it. For a day or two I mulled it over in my head and then finally decided it had to happen. I located a recipe, trekked to Bulk Barn to purchase some roasted, salted almonds, and then came home to begin Liquid Hot MAGMA, the sequel. This time, I would be cooking brown sugar and butter to 290 F before adding almonds and slabbing it. Then I'd cover it in couverture and sprinkle more almonds. What's not to love? (Except, of course, for the whole cooking to 290 F part...)

Actually, the process went smoothly. Thanks to all of that butter, there was no concern whatsoever that I might have sugar sticking to my pot. But all of that butter did present challenges later in the process. You see, once everything had cooled and the couverture had set, my layered almond roca turned into some of the most delicious almond toffee and almond bark you've ever tasted -- but almond roca it was not.

While cutting it into pieces, the chocolate separated from the toffee for about half of the batch.

Initially, I was disappointed. But I got over that pretty quickly (trying to channel the life lessons of my alter ego Ginger Snaps). There will always be things that don't quite turn out right the first time you do them and, as failures go, this one wasn't all that terrible. It still tasted amazing. As well, thanks to what I've learned in the Professional Chocolatier program, I was able to diagnose the issue and note changes to make in the future to prevent the same issue.

I also realized that all of the little shards of chocolate, toffee, and almonds would make a fabulous topping for ice cream. So, in fact, if I were to ever open the chocolaterie that I am imagining for my course, I'd probably make this again -- exactly as I had -- and then break the whole thing up to sprinkle over homemade ice cream.

Or maybe I'll just do that this summer?

My goal going forward will be to try something new most weekends. If you would like to help me maintain my momentum, I'd love to hear your suggestions for confections I should try next.

Getting Nutty With Fillings

Up until now, I've worked almost exclusively with dark chocolate in this professional chocolatier program (the exceptions were a ganache centre and a piped decoration). Considering many of my friends prefer milk chocolate, I was very excited when the opportunity to work with milk chocolate came about. I was required to make a molded chocolate with a nut-based centre that was decorated with a transfer sheet on the bottom. I chose to make gianduja, otherwise known as the original nutella.

Gianduja is a combination of hazelnut paste and couverture chocolate. I was excited to make it, because it would surely be delicious and because I had been meaning to try making nut butter in my food processor for a while now -- and it's the same basic process. I bought hazelnuts, roasted them, removed the skins by rubbing the nuts in a clean tea towel, and then put my KitchenAid to work. Everything I'd read noted that the process should take about 10 minutes, and sure enough at the 10-minute mark, the consistency changed and was just about perfect.

I melted my couverture chocolate and then combined it with the hazelnut paste. I was thrilled with the end result. Yes, it's a pale version of nutella (there's no cocoa powder added), but it tastes absolutely incredible. It started out very fluid, but as it sat and the chocolate began to crystallize, the texture thickened.

I then set about tempering my milk chocolate and preparing my mold. I decided to try a technique in which you combine luster dust with vodka and paint the mold before proceeding with the shelling process. It had a very different consistency from the cocoa butter I had used in an earlier chocolate and I determined that it was best used for a splatter-type of painting. After painting half of the mold and letting it dry, I shelled my bonbons, piped the gianduja into them, and then capped them using a transfer sheet, as per the assignment guidelines.

I must say, I had been a skeptic in regards to the transfer sheet. Perhaps it was a bit of snobbery on my part -- it's a piece of acetate that has been printed with a cocoa butter design that you apply to chocolate, so the end product isn't really "hand-decorated" unless you paint your own transfer sheets. When I ordered mine, I deliberately bought a golden swirl pattern because I've seen it on so many chocolates -- it's clearly popular and it looks good on milk chocolate. Using the transfer sheet in the capping process resulted in an absolutely perfect bottom on my chocolates -- and as one of my friends noted on facebook, Who doesn't love a perfect bottom? (In retrospect, that probably should have been the title of this blog post, but I'm not sure it would attract the right sort of attention.)

I think I would likely use this process in the future -- even with clear acetate -- just for the aesthetic appeal of the finished product. Alternatively, I could have custom transfer sheets printed with my name and brand everything I make the way that Kate Weiser does. I've no idea how much that would cost, but I'm sure I'll soon find out.

After all, I'll soon be in the business plan portion of this program.

Stay tuned!

A Different Kind of Ginger Snap

I've been blogging for the past two months about the Professional Chocolatier program that I'm currently enrolled in. It's a very time-consuming endeavour. But last night I took a break from chocolate to revive another love: singing.

Those of you who know me already know that I was classically trained at Memorial University's School of Music. A mezzo-soprano, I've performed some of the more interesting roles in the opera repertoire, like the Sorceress in Purcell's Dido and Aeneas (oh, to have the chance to sing this role again!) and Arnalta in Monteverdi's Coronation of Poppea. One of my favourite moments of my undergrad was performing Schumann's Frauenliebe und -Leben song cycle with my accompanist and partner in crime, Heather Hillier. We did a killer final graduation recital together, which after ticking all of the boxes in terms of required repertoire ended with "God Bless the Child." I've always loved popular music of the early twentieth century.

After leaving music school, I took a bit of a break from performing, at least the formal kind. I sang a few Newfoundland songs in a world music sampler at one point and performed a concert version of Phantom of the Opera in my residence at University of Alberta, but mostly I just sang for my own enjoyment (refreshing after years in music school). During my doctoral studies, I began singing with a First Nation drum group in St. John's, which presented it's own interesting challenges in terms of vocal production.

Back at Memorial University during this time period, I also had the opportunity to perform "Someone to Watch Over Me" at a farewell recital in honour of my undergraduate vocal instructor, Catherine Fitch. I remember the reaction I got that day after performing with Maureen Volk. It was like none I'd ever received before. Many musicians I respected said they hoped that there was a piano bar in Cape Breton (they knew I was moving soon), because I clearly had found my niche -- I was destined to be a lounge singer.

The first time I moved to Cape Breton, I didn't find a piano bar. Instead, I found the Cape Breton Chorale. I had a great time performing with them for a year, before returning to Newfoundland for a year. The second time I moved to Cape Breton, however, things were different.

I can't really remember when the first opportunity to sing jazz emerged in Cape Breton. It may have been before or after my performance at the farewell gala in honour of the president of the university. I sang "Con te partiro" with an accomplished local quartet, much to the surprise of my colleagues who didn't know of my musical background. This was all arranged by my then-supervisor Keith Brown and it was a wonderful experience to be back performing again. I mean, really performing -- practice, rehearsals, dress, make-up, hair, lights, a few nerves, and sing! But at some point during this period of re-emergence as a singer -- and honestly, by this point I really had stopped thinking of myself as a musician and more as an academic -- an opportunity to sing at a scholarship fundraiser presented itself. I decided quickly that I wanted to sing a few Gershwin tunes, as well as "God Bless the Child," "When I Fall In Love," and "Makin' Whoopee." I contacted Chris McDonald to ask if he would collaborate and he said yes.

This was one of my favourite performances ever. A great introduction by a funny emcee -- Ian Brodie -- who encouraged the audience to snap instead of clap for me. You see, in my bio, I had written (as a joke) that my jazz alter ego was Ginger Snaps (which makes sense if you know I'm a ginger). The stage name stuck. And Chris and I were really together in our performance (which makes sense, considering I think I insisted we rehearse a number of times and he patiently and kindly put up with me). But most importantly, I was finally singing the sentimental (and sometimes saucy) songs from the 1920s, 30s, and 40s that I love.

Side note: I challenge you to find a better song than one written by Gershwin. It simply doesn't exist. The lyrics. The emotion. The jazz tinge of Tin Pan Alley. Pure magic.

From there, new opportunities emerged. Chris, who was well-connected in the jazz scene here, passed my name along to Carl Getto in case he needed a vocalist. And Carl and I met on a regular basis trying out tunes in a variety of keys to see what might work. Soon, I had the chance to sing in the chapel at the Fortress of Louisbourg with a full band. It was literally a dream come true. Chris and I periodically did performances together -- a half hour of music at the Christmas craft show at the university, the scholarship fundraiser. Carl and I did an evening of song during the jazz festival. The larger group performed at an international student banquet and a Habitat for Humanity fundraiser.

In my wildest dreams, I never would have imagined that all of this would come to me here, in this place. And as I reflect on last night's performance with Chris McDonald, Red Mike MacDonald, and Johnny Hawkins, I am truly grateful for the chance to be on a stage singing songs that I love. (Hat tip to Stephanie MacPherson for her role in booking us as the entertainment for the Roaring Twenties event.)

But more than that, I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn more and grow as a musician. Every performance has been challenging -- in a good way. I'm learning to be a much better listener, to know where we are in a tune based on the chord progression rather than always wanting to hear the melody. I'm learning to stray from the written score and play a little with the melody. I'm learning that as much as you might want to plan everything out, you can't. Sometimes, you just have to go with the flow. (Reluctantly, perhaps, but you have to go with it nevertheless. Listen to Heart, not to Brain, for any of you Awkward Yeti fans.) I'm also learning what to listen for in a monitor -- something I never had to do for classical music -- and to ask if I want the mix altered. (Well, ok, I'm still working on that last part, but Christopher Jones has been incredibly helpful and pleasant to work with.) I'm learning that perfection isn't the goal. And most of all, I'm learning the importance of not taking things so seriously and having a sense of humour about it all.

Just go with the flow. Have a sense of humour. Perfection isn't the goal. Life lessons brought to yours truly by the jazz scene in Cape Breton.

Photo credit: Keith Brown (lifted from Twitter)

What the Heck is a Truffle Anyway?

If you've been following my journey in the Professional Chocolatier program, then you realize by now that there are specific guidelines that have to be met for each assignment. Having completed a caramel, I was on to my next adventure: a truffle (not a ganache made with cream).

Now, I had understood to this point that a truffle was by definition made with ganache and that the definition of ganache was a combination of hot cream and chocolate. So, what exactly was I being asked to make? Confused, I spent a lot of time researching truffles. Most sources stated it was ganache formed into a ball or cone shape and coated in something (chocolate, nuts, cocoa powder). Were the instructions saying that ganache was off limits? Or was it only cream-based ganache that was off limits? And on the school's website I found a recipe for a ganache truffle that was a flat rectangle. So does truffle refer to the centre or the shape or some mystery still to be revealed? Maybe I was over-thinking this, but it seemed like an oxymoron (creamless ganache, ganacheless truffle). Reviewing the assignment again, I saw that the example was a butter truffle, so I began searching for truffle recipes without cream (God bless boolean operators) and found recipes for "water ganache" and wine and butter based truffles. I also found recipes for "pot truffles," but decided that probably wasn't what they intended with this assignment. Eventually, I decided to make a wine-based truffle.

Lucky for me, I had some Newman's port wine left in my cupboard. I prepared the ganache (without cream) and slabbed it, then let it crystallize for 24 hours. Once it was ready for enrobing, I cut it into 1" squares, dipped them in dark chocolate, and decorated them according to the assignment requirements -- a piped decoration made with a contrasting chocolate that had been tinted using candy colours. I chose to combine candy red and sky blue to produce a sort of winey pink colour.

I realized through this process that 1" squares are a little too big when enrobed, not that anyone would really quibble about having too much chocolate, I suppose. Nevertheless, I was really happy with the flavour of the port wine and dark chocolate together. And they looked good too. I do need to practice my enrobing technique more, though. I guess that just means more truffles and bonbons in the future? Or maybe just bonbons. Afterall, I'm still not sure what the heck a truffle is.

Liquid Hot Magma

I mentioned in an earlier post that part of what I like about the professional chocolatier program is that I'm being forced to try new things. This was the case last Sunday, when one of the assignments required that I make a caramel -- something I had never done before. And let me tell you, it was terrifying.

In an effort to put my own twist on a classic caramel recipe, I decided to use equal parts of white sugar and fancy molasses. Knowing that once sugar gets going, it can spike in temperature quickly, I decided a mise en place set up was necessary. I also pulled a Martha Stewart and added a bowl of ice water in case of burns. And then I started.

The first part of melting sugar and starting to cook it is rather slow and unremarkable, though I do seem to have an irrational fear about sugar burning (perhaps that stems from the fact that if the alarm in my apartment is triggered, the entire building will have to evacuate). As it gets hotter and hotter, of course, it starts bubbling and spurting. As my thermometre crept towards 255 degrees, I was a little anxious about the whole thing. I also couldn't get Dr. Evil out of my head.



Eventually, I hit the desired temperature, removed the liquid hot magma from the burner, and added the vanilla -- which of course caused a new round of spurting and bubbling almost to the point of bubbling over, but not quite.

Following the recipe, I stirred with a wooden spoon and then poured the caramel into a prepared pan. Finally, I sprinkled some pink Himalayan salt over the surface of the caramel while it was still hot so that the salt would sort of melt into the surface.

No need for the bowl of ice water. That was a success in my books.

And then I waited. After about an hour, I poked the surface to see whether it was setting up -- and it was! But I left it for another five hours to be sure it was fully cooled and set before cutting it.

Cutting was surprisingly easy. I wanted a rectangular shape instead of squares to have some variety in the appearance of the bonbons that I would submit. Of course, you don't need a large batch of caramel to end up with an inordinate number of caramels. And when you're cutting them to be enrobed in chocolate, you actually need to account for the thickness of the coating so that you don't end up with a massive treat at the end. I think I ended up cutting this into 96 pieces. And then I was filled with regret: How was I going to enrobe 96 caramels in dark chocolate? Surely that would take forever. And the reality is, I only needed one perfectly dipped caramel to photograph and submit.

I tempered my dark chocolate and prepared for the great enrobing extravaganza. And I discovered something. While my caramel was the perfect texture for eating, it wasn't quite as firm as I would have wanted for enrobing in chocolate. While tempering the chocolate, the caramels had started to slump a little. I was mildly annoyed (and made a mental note to cook it to 260 the next time), but pressed on.

I probably enrobed about 30 pieces of my batch. Each one was dipped in chocolate and then, as per assignment requirements, embellished by tapping the tines of the dipping fork across the surface. It does create a very nice effect.

I wrapped the remaining (undipped) caramels in parchment wrappers. It occurred to me that, while I couldn't really mail my chocolates home to my parents to try -- too delicate without appropriate packaging, plus the cost (which would be about $15) -- I could easily send home molasses caramels. Not only were they less delicate, they also were thin enough to be packed in a bubble mailer and sent regular mail (for only $1.80). Knowing Trooper Ron loves molasses, I put together a package and sent them off. The others, I took to work and shared with friends.

It's perhaps a little difficult to see the detail in this picture -- dark chocolate is difficult to photograph, especially on a white background -- but I'm really happy with how these turned out. And I do plan to try the recipe again to see if I can get a slightly firmer texture that won't slump. Enrobed in chocolate, though, they came out looking like caramel logs -- not a bad outcome.

More importantly, I'm no longer afraid of cooking caramel. Maybe there will be fudge in my future.

Now I Want An Airbrush

After making the marzipan espresso bonbon, my next assignment in the professional chocolatier program was to make a flavoured ganache and use it as filling for a hand-painted molded shell. Drawing inspiration from Newfoundland, I decided to make a blueberry white chocolate ganache filling and pipe it into dark chocolate shells painted in shimmering white and blue.

I melted my cocoa butter very carefully to ensure that I didn't over-heat it, since that would take it out of temper. First I painted the white, deliberately leaving some unpainted spots. Then I painted the blue. Once it was set, I filled the mold with dark chocolate, vibrated it to remove air bubbles, then tipped it over to remove the excess chocolate, leaving a shell. That set for about 5 minutes. Then I piped blueberry ganache into the shells and capped them with more dark chocolate.

After letting them set up in the fridge, I turned them out onto my marble slab. I had hoped for more white than blue, and there were a few tiny air bubbles in the surface of a couple of bonbons, but nevertheless I was very happy with the results. Better yet, after letting the ganache crystallize for 24 hours, I bit into one and it truly was the perfect bonbon -- a thin, crisp shell filled with creamy deliciousness.

I realized during this process that I much prefer painting and molding chocolate to enrobing centres. More importantly, now all I can think about is buying an airbrush and compressor to try airbrushing molds to see what sort of result I get. This is one of the biggest trends in chocolate right now, and I feel like it's a process that I'd enjoy just as much as the hand-painting.

Let the research begin!