Mission: Hummingbird Chocolate

During my professional chocolatier program, one of our assignments was to run a chocolate taste test. It was a great opportunity for me to canvass Cape Breton in search of single-origin chocolate bars to taste alongside the commercial chocolate available at most retail stores. I found myself in small shops I had never visited before, like Charlene's Nutrition Centre and My Fair Ladies Ethical Emporium, and I tasted chocolate unlike anything I had ever experienced or imagined before (including a bar that tasted like geraniums smell -- not a high point in the experience, but I digress). 

At the same time, I was conducting research on chocolate trends and establishing my concept for a Newfoundland-based chocolate business for another assignment. I was inspired by the modern design and flavour profiles of Kate Weiser Chocolate in the United States. When my sister travelled to Toronto for work, her mission, which she (thankfully) chose to accept, was to locate CXBO Chocolates and procure one of their Jackson Pollock-like bars or disco eggs. A few weeks later, two 4" squares arrived in the mail, one of which was salted caramel. They looked incredible and I loved the colour combinations (but if I'm honest, the flavour was only average).  

I also recall inviting friends on Facebook to share their favourite chocolate, whether that was fine chocolate or, more commonly, a retro commercial candy bar. There were so many that I had never heard of before! When one friend referenced a 4 Flavours chocolate bar, I did some research and recreated it for her as a present. I still have a list of the other retro candy, including Bar Six, that I compiled for future projects. (So many chocolate possibilities, so little time!)

When I restarted this chocolate journey in January, one recommendation from that time linked to the fine chocolate realm popped back into my head: Hummingbird Chocolate.

One of my Toronto-based friends insisted that I had to try Hummingbird Chocolate, which is made in Almonte, Ontario. And as I thought about my resolution for 2023 to improve my chocolate skills, it occurred to me that I should also continue honing my chocolate tasting skills! (Any excuse to eat more chocolate, right?) And so around Valentine's Day, I visited the Hummingbird Chocolate website to look into placing an order, but was deterred by the cost of shipping (which, like everything these days, has gone up in price). But as luck would have it, shipping would not be necessary anyway! I mentioned Hummingbird Chocolate on a Teams meeting at work and a colleague googled it only to discover that it is available locally at Port City Grocery!

On St. Patrick's Day, my boyfriend and I made a pilgrimage to purchase Hummingbird Chocolate. Unfortunately, the grocery store didn't have any of the single origin bars in stock, but they did have a selection of Easter bunnies and filled eggs. I chose the 60% milk chocolate eggs with peanut butter centres. Pleased as punch, we headed home to try them out. 

The first thing I noticed was that the peanut butter eggs weren't sweet, though they were rich and creamy. The second thing I noticed was just how thin the shell of the egg was -- something I've not yet been able to accomplish in my own work (partly because of the fluidity of the chocolate with which I work). The cap was a bit thick in comparison to the shell, but I'm not one to complain about more chocolate. The chocolate itself had faint notes of roast coffee. These peanut butter mini eggs were delicious and satisfying. 

I'm hoping that after Easter, Port City Grocery may have a greater selection of Hummingbird Chocolate products available. In particular, I'd love to try a few of the bars in the Sampler Gift Box and the Origins Collection. But if not, then I may just have to pony up the cash to have them shipped to me -- or buy an excessive amount of chocolate to qualify for free shipping. 

Did I say excessive? I meant appropriate. 

You Spin Me Right 'Round, Baby, Right 'Round

With vacation to burn before the end of fiscal, I extended my birthday weekend by two days and decided to devote one of them to making hidden hazelnut pralines. Armed with 35 chocolate discs made the week prior, which I had arranged on a wax paper lined cookie sheet, I was ready to move on to the next step.

First I put 300 grams of hazelnuts onto a pan and toasted them in the oven for about 10 minutes. I then wrapped them in a clean towel and let them steam for a minute, before rolling them around in the towel to remove the skins -- an effective, if messy, process. I set aside 35 hazelnuts and then weighed out 225 grams from the remaining nuts, setting them aside to cool.

I then melted 50 grams of dark chocolate using a direct tempering method. Using a dot of chocolate on each disc, I attached a hazelnut to the centre of each one.

Next I tossed the hazelnuts with an equal weight of powdered sugar into my food processor. The instructions in Notter's The Art of the Chocolatier said to process them "until the mixture has a runny consistency." Now, I've made nut butters before, so I knew the process would take at least 15 minutes. But the addition of the sugar really slowed down the process. I scraped down the sides. I stared at it. I scraped down the sides again. I tried walking away. I scraped the sides. And after 30 minutes the nut paste was finally "runny."

It was about this time that I decided it would be a good idea to grab a towel and wipe the powdered sugar away from the food processor. Unfortunately, I forgot that I'd used it to remove the skins of the hazelnuts. Grabbing it without thinking, hazelnut skins rained down across the counter and the floor. Clean up on aisle one? I paused my work to clean up the mess I'd just made.

Back on task, I transferred the nut paste to a bowl and added 225 grams of tempered dark chocolate to it. I stirred it every few minutes, monitoring the temperature of the gianduja and checking the consistency for piping. Somewhere around 20 degrees Celcius, the consistency appeared correct, so I transferred it to a piping bag fitted with an open star tip. Then I commenced piping.

And that's when I realized my critical error. Yes, worse than hazelnut skins raining down on my kitchen from a towel. As I attempted to pipe a rosette around each hazelnut, the chocolate discs -- shiny side down on a piece of wax paper -- starting spinning right 'round, like a record baby. I had no way to control them and no easy method to hold them in place without getting gianduja everywhere. Undeterred, I experimented with different piping styles and then decided to just chase the discs around and hope for the best. Lesson learned -- next time I'll put them on a silicone pad or similar surface to prevent them from spinning quite so much.

I also learned just how tricky it can be to pipe gianduja. The heat from my hands started to melt it while I was piping, so a few pralines were too soft and didn't hold their shape quite as well. At the end of the day, it didn't matter all that much because they did set up. 

Behold! Hidden hazelnut pralines. These are insanely delicious and, despite the piping challenges, very pretty. They also have an incredible texture with the snap of the chocolate disc, the crunch of the nut, and the creamy gianduja.

I would probably consider a few modifications if I were to make these again. First of all, I would probably use a milk chocolate disc instead of dark chocolate. I personally don't like the appearance of the gianduja against the dark chocolate disc -- even though the gianduja was made with dark chocolate it looks like milk chocolate because of the added nut paste. That said, I also don't think anyone who ate one looked at the bottom, so maybe it doesn't matter. I also might try a slightly smaller piping tip for the rosettes or I might use a large French pastry tip instead and pipe more of a bullet shape. 

Will I be hiding nuts inside gianduja again in the future? 

As sure as I'm sitting here singing, "You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round, like a record baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round..."

Using a Chocolate Stencil

Hidden hazelnut pralines sound like a delicious treat and they're an opportunity to try a technique that I've never used before. But they also have multiple steps, so about two weeks ago, in anticipation of making these pralines on my next vacation day, I completed the first step: making chocolate discs.

I've made a type of chocolate disc before using a mold. They were archery-themed chocolate coins. I bought the mold so that I could create a special gift for Jay at Highland Bow & Arrow, who taught me how to shoot and got me hooked on archery. I've made these coins a few other times as well, as a prize for a friend's Biggest Buck competition and to celebrate a few fellow archers' accomplishments at a tournament. These coins, however, are too large to form the base of praline. Cue my newly acquired stencil.

I wiped down my countertop and while it was still wet I placed a piece of acetate on top. Then I put my new chocolate disc stencil on top of the acetate. I also dug out my large Ateco offset spatula that I received in a prize package from How to Cake It after tweeting one of my creations (a cake ball that looked like a cupcake). Equipment assembled, I then tempered 250g of dark chocolate. 

After checking the temper, I poured some chocolate at the top of the circle stencil and pulled the chocolate across it with the cranked spatula. I definitely poured too much chocolate on this first go, so I did a second pass of the spatula to remove as much chocolate as possible. Then once I saw that the chocolate was starting to set, I removed the stencil. I walked away for fifteen minutes and when I returned, I had 35 chocolate discs. 

As is my usual method, I put the chocolate into the fridge for a few minutes just to be sure the chocolate would crystallize properly, and then popped them from the acetate. The side of the chocolate that was against the acetate had the most incredible shine.

Grade? I'll give myself a B. 

These aren't perfect. A few are too thick because I used too much chocolate and didn't manage to remove it all evenly with the spatula. I also feel like I can see a few tiny pieces of chocolate that didn't fully melt out in the tempering process. But they are chocolate discs and they do have a great shine, so they are going to work well when I make the hidden hazelnut pralines. Next time, I'll use less chocolate and try to keep it to only one pass of the spatula. 

They say practice makes perfect, so I'll just have to make more chocolates, right? 

In the words of Ina Garten, how bad can that be? 

Trendy Flavours

Turn on any baking or dessert challenge on the Food Network and you're likely to find the competitors incorporating ube into their creations. Ube ice cream, ube cake, ube pie, ube donuts... The results are usually a vibrant purple colour. As for the flavour, I can't personally comment, since I've never tried making a yam-based confection or dessert. 

Before ube, it was yuzu (a citrus flavour). And before yuzu, matcha was all the rage. You get the picture.

Now, as I work my way through The Art of the Chocolatier by Ewald Notter, I find that very few of his recipes incorporate what would be considered trendy flavours. The majority are what I would consider to be standards or classics. But there are a few that reflect flavours that were likely trendy at the time of publication in 2011 -- including passion fruit and "exotic" curry pralines. 

I haven't been one for trendy flavours in my chocolate, but during my professional chocolatier program, I got it in my head that one of the recipes I would develop was a matcha truffle. I had forgotten about this idea until recently. Remember that decluttering kick I've been on? Among my baking supplies, I found a bottle of matcha ginger powder I had bought for that very purpose. I remember making a latte with it one day and enjoying it, but the matcha truffle never materialized. You see, the program outlined requirements for different centres and decorations, and as I worked through the combinations, I didn't need another truffle. The matcha ginger powder went into my cupboard for later. And later never came.

Until now.

Today, I was contemplating what to do with some leftover white chocolate. I didn't have a lot of it -- only 42 grams. It wasn't enough to make a bar, but I also didn't want to buy more. So I just stared at it for a bit and that's when I remembered my idea for a matcha truffle. It's a little unconventional to make such a small batch of truffles, but if you understand the ratio of chocolate to cream/butter and have a kitchen scale, it's doable. I dug into the back of my spice cupboard and pulled out the matcha ginger powder.

I tossed the white chocolate into a small bowl and added an appropriate amount of salted butter. Then I melted the two together using a very low heat to ensure the white chocolate didn't burn. I stirred until the two were perfectly combined and then I added some matcha ginger powder. I wasn't sure how much I would need to achieve the right flavour so I started with one rounded dash (side note: if you didn't know, a dash is an actual measurement you can buy measuring implements for dash, pinch, and smidgen). I tested the flavour and then added another rounded dash. Another taste and I was happy with the flavour. The colour, however, was another story.

Any time I've seen matcha, it's been a fairly vibrant green colour. The mixture in front of me looked more grey than green. It was not appetizing. So I did something I don't normally do -- I took some green food colouring out of the cupboard and added one drop to my tiny bowl of ganache. It mixed in quickly and made the colour slightly more palatable. 

I let the ganache set up before scooping and rolling the truffles. My tiny bowl of ganache produced 4 truffles, which I rolled in a combination of icing sugar and matcha ginger powder. 

Verdict? Not bad. The ginger hits you first and then mellows into the matcha. The powdered sugar helps to balance the "spice" of the ginger and the "earthy bitterness" of the matcha. The texture of the ganache isn't quite perfect because of the matcha ginger powder (and maybe the food colouring), but it isn't unpleasant. Next time (if there is one), I might try a cream-based ganache. 

All things considered, I think this was a pretty good flavour combination. And I'm happy to finally have taken the time to bring the idea to life. 

And that's what this year of chocolate is all about.