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!

Putting the Temper in Temperamental

Over the course of a four week period, I have to develop 5-6 recipes for two assignments in my professional chocolatier program. Because I have to travel in March, I wanted to get started early to make sure I had enough time to complete everything (I am Type A, after all). Consequently, last weekend, I started my first recipe development assignment and spent my Friday evening making marzipan and espresso ganache, both of which turned out extremely well. It was the first time I'd made marzipan and I loved the flavour of the finished product -- much better than anything I could have bought around town. I layered it in an 8x8 pan with the espresso ganache and then left the ganache to crystallize for about 30 hours. I went to bed feeling pretty impressed with myself.

Then on Sunday morning, I set up my kitchen for the day and retrieved the layered slab. My first task was to cut the slab into centres. This was not as easy as I'd anticipated. With a large chef's knife, I made long cuts through the ganache, which was firm, but sticky. After every cut, I had to clean my knife. Quickly I learned the value of a guitar cutter and why chocolatiers prioritize it over other types of equipment. (Mental note: add guitar cutter to the business plan.) Eventually, I had 64 centres ready to be enrobed, but I was very worried about how such a soft ganache would perform in the enrobing process.

Next I tempered my chocolate. The temper test set perfectly, so I was ready to proceed (or so I thought). With confidence, I picked up a centre with my left hand, tossed it into the chocolate with the ganache layer facing down, flipped it over in the chocolate so that the marzipan was now on bottom using a dipping fork in my right hand, tapped to remove the excess chocolate, and set it down on a tray. Then I placed a toasted slivered almond on top. It looked beautiful!

And then I did the second one. Not so beautiful. And the next one -- same thing. The top looked great, but the bonbons didn't want to come off the dipping fork. They were sticking. I tried a different dipping tool. Sticking. I tried regular forks. Still sticking. I cleaned my dipping forks and tried them again. I wanted to scream! After about 18 bonbons, I stopped. Something wasn't right.

I wasn't sure what the problem was, but I wondered if the chocolate wasn't in perfect temper (perhaps it was over-crystallized). So, I heated my chocolate back up to 46 degrees to break down the crystal structure and re-tempered it. About 20 minutes later, I did another temper test (which once again set perfectly) and then returned to my enrobing. I had much more success. This time, there was no "sticking" to the dipping fork. I did find that my dipping fork was too big (the tines too far apart) for my centres, but I switched to a different dipping tool and finished off the batch. By the time I was done enrobing 64 centres and cleaning up my kitchen, I was exhausted, but also very happy. 

I had just learned a very valuable lesson: chocolate puts the temper in temperamental. It isn't simply "in temper" or "not in temper." Instead, there is a continuum of temper (I feel like I'm back in grad school writing a paper on identity...). But I'd recognized the problem and I'd fixed it, which is the whole point of these assignments -- putting theory into practice. I also learned just how valuable a tempering machine is in this sort of process. There is enough to do in the dipping of centres and placing of decorations that you don't want to also have to worry about doing the heating pad-heat gun tempering dance.

Based on the feedback I've received, this flavour combination is a winner. What would you have paired with marzipan?

The Motivation to Try Something New

One of the reasons why I'm enjoying the professional chocolatier course so much is that it's forcing me to try new recipes, techniques, and ingredients that I wouldn't normally make time for. There's no question that I love baking, making confections, crafting, and trying the many pins on my Pinterest boards. But life can be busy and unless there's a special occasion or event that motivates me (like the fundraiser for Little Bear or the library), I often fall into the rut of making the same things all the time. But that's changing.

The assignments in my program are designed to force you to try new things in combinations that you might not have considered before. For example it will identify two types of centre (one a traditional cream ganache, the other a layer of a nut-based centre topped with a layer of ganache) and then three types of finish (painted molded shell, traditional truffle, or enrobed with placed decoration). They also give you master recipes that you are encouraged to modify. So, it becomes a mix and match game of new recipes, techniques, flavours, and finish to meet the requirements. This weekend, for one of my bonbons, I'll be making a marzipan (nut-based) layer topped with espresso ganache (modified master recipe), enrobed in chocolate with a toasted slivered almond placed on top (finish). I'm excited to see how it turns out, but I'm also very nervous about the enrobing process. If you've ever dipped anything in chocolate before (and I have many times), you know how hard it is to get that perfect finish and a minimal "foot" on the finished product (the "foot" is the pool of chocolate that forms while it hardens on a flat surface).

One of my recent successes was making pate de fruits for the first time on a snow day. Since pate de fruits is one of the optional layers for one of the assignments and I've never made it before, I decided I should research some recipes and give it a go. Armed a food processor and a good thermometre, I prepared all of my ingredients and then cooked strawberry-rhubarb juice with sugar until it was "sheeting" off my spoon. I added some lemon juice and an envelope of Certo and quickly poured it into an 8x8 pan lined with parchment. Two hours later I had perfectly set "fruit paste." Cut into squares and tossed in sugar, these are a delicious fruity finish at the end of a meal. (I recently found a recipe for tangerine pate de fruits, so there may be another adventure closer to Easter. I'm also thinking that lemon pate de fruits that have some citric acid mixed in with the sugar to make them sour might be fun.)

This course is also forcing me to visit stores that I've never been to before for ingredients, supplies, and research purposes. And that's showing in my weekly step count. As someone to tends to hibernate during winter, it's been good to have a reason to go out in the evening. While the efficient type A in me can be annoyed that I can't find everything I need in one place, I have been enjoying moments of discovery (like the dried blueberries that cost $50/kg).

Hopefully this motivation around experimentation and getting out and about during winter will last beyond the end of the course!

Wine and Geraniums

As mentioned in last week's post, the third assignment in my professional chocolatier program was to hold a chocolate tasting. The goal was to explore the perception of taste, as well as the diversity that exists in chocolate (particularly around "fine" chocolate, such as that made from single-origin criollo beans). It was also intended to serve as market research to some extent (understanding preferences). Without question, it was an interesting experiment and part of me wishes I could re-do the entire thing.

While preparing for the event, I decided that the tasting should be blind so that brand name and price wouldn't influence perception of taste (or at least the assessment of whether one liked something or not). I also thought it would be fun to see where the cheapest bar would rank against finer brands of chocolate and whether any of the group unwittingly had "expensive taste."

The bars we tasted ranged from $1.50 to $6.50 and were a minimum of 70% cocoa. They were:

• Green & Black’s Organic Dark Chocolate with 70% Cocoa
• Divine 70% Dark Chocolate
• Pascha Organic Dark Chocolate 70% Cacao
• Laura Secord Dark Chocolate 70% Cocoa
• Jacquot France 74% Dark Chocolate Cacao
• Camino Extra Dark 80% Dark Chocolate
• Lindt Excellence Intense Dark 85% Cacao

I included the Jacquot France because it was available at Dollarama and I was curious. I included the Laura Secord because I wanted to see where a Canadian-made chocolate bar would land in the mix. The Lindt bar was required for the assignment. The other four were selected from the collection I had amassed by visiting local stores, like My Fair Ladies and Bulk Barn, in search of bars that were not typical grocery store finds.

The surprising thing throughout the process of tasting each chocolate was how differently we each perceived it. One bar (the Camino) was variously described as having an aroma that was pungent, tabacco-like, floral, spicy, coffee-like, and rubber-like, while the flavour was described as burnt, bitter, molasses, earthy, fruity, and harsh. Was it all of those things or none of them? I have no answer. Feel free to replicate this experiment yourself and you can decide!

One bar -- the Pascha Organic -- tasted like wine to me (though others described it as raisins, woodsy, earthy, kerosene, harsh, etc). And the flavour lingered long after the chocolate had melted away. Another -- the Green & Black's -- tasted like geraniums to me (while others perceived citrus, molasses, raisin, etc). There was no consensus to be found, at least in terms of the adjectives we were choosing to describe appearance, aroma, texture, and flavour.

In the end, Laura Secord and Jacquot emerged as favourites, though I use the term loosely. They both were the "favourite" of three people (meaning both fell short of a majority, as there were seven tasters).

I've given a great deal of thought to this result and I've come up with two possible (related) explanations for why these two bars came out on top. First, I think they may have a more familiar flavour in comparison to others, by which I mean that I think they have a general, perhaps well-rounded chocolate flavour without strong notes. I also think that the order of tasting impacted our impressions. For example, the Pascha bar -- made from rare criollo beans -- had an intense wine flavour that lingered. Pretty much anything would taste better after that unexpected experience, but something less pungent and more similar to our expectations for chocolate would obviously score higher given the visceral reaction most had to the Pascha bar. As well, to put all of this into context, the majority of people at this tasting prefer milk chocolate to dark.

It's clear from this process that flavour perception is based in personal experience and that comparing chocolate flavours and notes to our experience of other things (like mushrooms, tobacco, or coffee) is subjective and imprecise. I'm left wondering what we would have tasted if we had been told what "experts" have already said about various bars. Would guiding tasters in this way change the associations and outcome? I suspect so, but I have to be honest: I'm not willing to taste most of these bars a second time.

I agree with my participants that next time it should be a milk chocolate tasting!