Chocolate Easter Squirrel

Several years ago, perhaps during the pandemic, I treated myself to a Ferrero Rocher Squirrel for Easter. It caught my eye because it was different (i.e. not a bunny or an egg), but also because I was feeling a bit homesick at the time and was attracted to it because my father's nickname for me is Squirrel. I didn't read the label or pay much attention to the ingredients. I just had the gold-wrapped hazelnut chocolates in my mind. When I cracked it open on Easter Sunday, I discovered it was a hollow 3D chocolate figure. While I would have preferred a little more chocolate (given the cost), it had me contemplating what I would mold for Easter if I ever opened my own chocolate shop -- could chocolate Easter bears be a thing?

Fast forward to the present. As you know, last week I tried my hand at molding hollow 3D chocolate eggs for the first time. As I reflected on the results, I couldn't help but think that, unless there was a surprise hidden inside, they were a bit boring. I thought about the many chocolatiers who have taken to painting their molds in a Jackson Pollock-style splatter, turning their eggs into works of art. I did something similar a few years ago. Others have added candy, sprinkles, caramels, or other confections inside the egg. Last year, for example, I had a Peace by Chocolate hollow dark chocolate egg that held little white chocolate chicks and came with violet seeds. 

The Ferrero Rocher Squirrel is unique because it uses chocolate with inclusions to shell the mold instead of using nuts as a filling. The only other product I can think of using a similar technique is the soon-to-be-extinct Cherry Blossom. I wondered how the inclusions might impact the temper and fluidity of the chocolate, and by extension the ability to properly coat the mold, particularly when producing a hollow 3D piece by hand rather than in a factory with specialized equipment. I decided to try it out.

I combined some leftover dark chocolate with milk chocolate and tempered it. Then I added some chopped peanuts. After adding the mixture to half of the mold and clipping the second piece in place, I slowly rotated the mold in various directions to coat it. Then I popped it in the fridge, followed by the freezer, before unmolding. Now, this is where things went wrong. I was impatient. Instead of popping the mold back in the freezer for a few more minutes, I tried to release the mold even though I could see one section where the chocolate hadn't yet contracted away from the plastic. I cracked the egg. 

As you can imagine, I was disappointed, but at least I had proof of concept that this type of shelling was possible by hand. The following day, I melted down the cracked egg, tempered the chocolate, and tried again. This time the egg popped out of the mold easily and I could see the flecks of peanut throughout the semi-dark chocolate surface. 

I appreciate the beauty of the unadorned, well-tempered shell. And I think anyone eating this will enjoy the surprise of peanuts throughout. Because it was done by hand, the chocolate is thicker than that of the mass-produced chocolate squirrel, but no one's ever complained about more chocolate, am I right? Most importantly, though, it's a new approach to shelling that may have other applications in the future. 

Hollow 3D Figures

While I didn't pursue a professional chocolatier program until 2018, my first introduction to chocolate making came while I was around ten or eleven years old and part of a Girl Guide troop. One Wednesday night, we gathered in the basement of the Salvation Army temple and our troop's leader demonstrated how to make various solid and filled bonbons. Of course, she was using Wilton candy melts (compound chocolate) instead of "real" chocolate, so there was no tempering involved, but we learned processes for shelling, filling, and capping. I remember the chocolate being kept warm with an electric skillet, the molds being painstakingly painted with a Testors paint brush (the kind you use on model cars), and the can of condensed milk that had been transformed into caramel by boiling it. I was hooked. And my dear parents indulged my interest, taking me to the religious book and bible shop in the mall, which for some reason was the place to buy candy melts and molds. 

I've come a long way since then. But every now and then I think back to one of the techniques she talked about that night -- creating hollow 3D figures. She described two-part molds that snapped together. You would pour some chocolate in one piece, snap them together, and then rotate to coat the mold until the chocolate solidified. It sounded easy enough, and at some point I used my allowance to buy a 3D Christmas tree and a 3D Santa mold, but I never tried it.

While hollow 3D figures wasn't part of my professional chocolatier program, as I engaged in research for various assignments, I stumbled upon videos demonstrating how 3D molds are used in factories. Instead of clipping or snapping together, the molds are now commonly held together with magnets. And instead of a person rotating them by hand, they are placed on a machine that slowly rotates in multiple directions. Smaller, artisanal shops may have 3D molds that aren't fully enclosed when clipped together. They fill them with chocolate, let them sit for a few minutes, and then pour out the excess chocolate to leave a hollow figure. 

The production, of course, is a little different if you want to have a surprise in the centre of the hollow figure, like M&Ms or Smarties. Anyone who's made hot chocolate bombs knows this process: mold the two pieces separately, add your fillings to one side, and then attach the other half either by melting it a little on a hot pan or by "gluing" it into place with more chocolate. I've made cocoa bombs before, including some Grinch-inspired ones with a friend -- but I've never made a one-piece, hollow chocolate figure. Until now. 

This week, on chocolate night, I decided to try it. I have a few egg molds that can be combined for this purpose. I grabbed some white chocolate left over from Christmas, prepared it using the direct tempering method, and poured it into one half of the mold. With binder clips, I secured the other half and began rotating. Once I was confident the chocolate was well distributed, I let it sit for a minute and then flipped it over and let it sit for another minute. Then I tossed it in the fridge to set. Fifteen minutes later, I pulled it out and was saddened to find I couldn't unmold it. I thought perhaps I'd messed up the temper. I made the mistake of using too much force and I cracked the egg in half. Still unable to get the chocolate out, I put it in the freezer for 5 minutes and the two halves then popped out cleanly. The next day, it was clear that the chocolate had been in perfect temper, but I had been too impatient. So I tried again.

My second attempt was with leftover dark chocolate. I repeated the process, but this time when I took it out of the fridge, instead of trying to unmold it, I popped it into the freezer immediately for a quick cold "shock." And the hollow egg unmolded perfectly! Huzzah!

Pleased as punch, I set it aside on a crumpled paper towel so that it wouldn't roll around. And then I turned my attention to "fixing" the white chocolate one. I could have melted down the chocolate and molded the egg again, but instead I decided to put a surprise inside. I took the first half of the egg and smoothed the edge by melting it on a hot frying pan. Then I filled it with candy before smoothing the second half and applying that on top while the chocolate was still melted. I patched the bottom with a little melted chocolate. Voila! Done. 

I'm very excited with how these turned out and for the possibilities going forward. The only challenge I have now is that the foil I usually wrap chocolates in isn't big enough for this jumbo Easter egg. Consequently, I'm going to need a creative packaging solution. But there's plenty of time to sort that out by Easter. 

Garfield Birthday Cake

I don't think I've ever made my own birthday cake before. Somehow, that just seems wrong. But this year, I decided it would be a good excuse to try the Garfield character cake pan that I bought a year ago and blogged about last week. When I announced this plan to my boyfriend, he insisted that he should help, because I shouldn't have to make my own cake. Another C&J Creation. I was game.

Our first step was to figure out how much batter would be required to fill the pan to 2/3 full. Initially, I was thinking I might need to make more than one batch, given the depth of the pan. (Garfield is, after all, a rotund cat.) I searched online to see if Wilton had any guidance, but given the age of the pan, I didn't find anything reliable. It seems most character pans are designed to work with one cake mix, but with the shrinkflation of the past few years, that is no longer a given. We decided to fill the pan with water and then measure the water. Seven cups. A few calculations later, I determined that the recipe I intended to use should be enough to fill the pan. 

Next, we needed a pattern for the fondant that would replace the missing plastic face. First, I traced the impression on the pan so that it would be the right size and general shape. Then, looking at a picture of the vintage pan on Pinterest, I sketched in Garfield's features -- his eyes, nose, and mouth. Once we were happy with it, I made a few copies and, the following night, we made a pilgrimage to Bulk Barn to buy a cake board big enough for the Garfield cake. 

Then, over the weekend, I set about colouring the fondant. I had some yellow left from making Woodstock as part of our 2024 gingerbread "house," so I combined it with white to make it more pastel. Then I coloured a chunk of white fondant with orange. When it was looking a little neon, I added a small touch of brown to tone it down. Finally, as with the yellow, I combined some red fondant with white to achieve the pink for Garfield's nose. I cut apart my template and used it to make the various features of his face, piecing them together on a white fondant base. Then, my boyfriend used an extruder to create the black outlines that are key to Garfield's cartoon appearance. Once we were happy with the face, I placed it on top of the cake pan so that it would take the pan's shape and dry with a curve.

The next day, we made the cake. This was the strangest cake recipe I've ever made. I chose Yolanda Gampp's ultimate chocolate cake. It started with dissolving Dutch-processed cocoa powder in boiling water. Then it said to cream the butter and sugar for eight minutes. EIGHT MINUTES! I thought this was overkill, but was committed to following the recipe. It was surprising to see the butter and sugar move through so many textures during that eight minutes. I have to say, if the recipe hadn't specified eight minutes, we probably would have stopped after one thinking we'd adequately creamed the butter and sugar. Clearly, none of us are doing that correctly. Until now. I sifted flour. I cracked open eggs. We mixed, alternating between dry and wet ingredients. And eventually we had batter to fill the pan (and more besides, so I also filled a 6" round). 

Now, we had carefully prepared the pan. We greased it extremely well and even used a pastry brush to get into every nook and cranny. We were sure that we'd done an adequate job on that front. But about 90 minutes later, after the cake had baked and then cooled slightly before turning it out onto a wire rack, I discovered we had not done a good enough job. That cake did not want to come out of the pan. I ran a spatula around the edges, I tapped, I forced a flexible bench scraper between the cake and the pan, I swore, I tried the spatula again. I continued in this fashion for about 30 minutes before I finally got the cake out of the pan. And when it did finally come out, it was in two pieces. 

You win some and you lose some in this life, and I had clearly lost this round. I wrapped the cake in plastic and gave myself a timeout. After some reflection, I decided that the best way to proceed was to coat the cake in ganache to hold the cake together and smooth the crumbs. So the next day, I made a dark chocolate ganache and once it had cooled and thickened, I coated the cake before returning it to the fridge yet again.

By Wednesday, we were now a full week into the making of the cake and we were anxious to finish it. After supper, I made buttercream icing, whipping it for an ungodly amount of time. I started with the seven minutes recommended by my cake decorating instructor more than a decade ago. And then probably spent another seven minutes mixing it to incorporate the colour. I matched it as closely to the orange fondant eyelids as possible and then filled a piping bag fit with a no. 21 tip -- an open star.

My boyfriend did the first section of the cake. And then when he tired of dotting stars, I tagged in. About forty minutes later, with severe hand cramps, the cake was completely covered in orange icing. Then we once again extruded fondant and used it to outline Garfield's features and create his characteristic stripes. We admired our work and took copious photographs. And then we chopped two pieces of cake from his body.

Not to toot my own horn, but this was the most delicious birthday cake I've ever had. The cake was dark and rich, and had a very dense texture -- almost like a chocolate pound cake. The icing was very buttery. And that thin layer of ganache really kicked it up a notch. 

As for lessons learned, first I would say, don't make a character cake -- at least not with a character cake pan. You're in for a world of hurt. They are frustrating to use and I find it hard to believe anyone has success getting the cake out of the pan without any casualties. But if you are like me and just can't stop yourself from doing it, invest in the expensive cake release spray instead of typical pan preparation methods. I don't know whether that would make a difference, but I'd try that before anything else. 

Second, the hand cramps are real. Plan for breaks. Or take a tag team approach. Or at the very least keep the icing bag topped up so that you don't have to squeeze as hard when piping (and so that the heat from your hands doesn't melt the buttercream). 

And, finally, less is more. You don't need to get all of the details done to capture the essence of the character. A few well placed details will do the job. We initially intended to outline the legs and feet, but quickly realized it overwhelmed the cake. When we pared it back, the cake looked better.

All in all, a fun birthday adventure! Now I need to fly home later this month to make a Tigger cake for my sister.

Character Cakes

Back when I was a kid, character cakes were very popular. Wilton had an extensive line of cartoon- and muppet-inspired pans, including Winnie the Pooh and Cookie Monster. I don't remember ever having one for my birthday, but my sister remembers having two -- Mickey Mouse and Oscar the Grouch. In contrast, the cake that stands out in my memory is a snowman cake that came from the Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library and was made from two rounds. 

It is still possible to buy character cake pans today and you actually are able to rent them from Bulk Barn -- Elmo is currently hanging on the wall of the location nearest to me. Over the past twenty years, however, novelty cakes have generally become more and more sophisticated. These days, they could be intricately carved or sculpted to look like something else, employ a comic book style with black outlines that make the cake appear two dimensional, or create the illusion of the cake floating or defying gravity. Particularly popular for a few years was "caking" the giant version of favourite candy bars, like KitKat or Mars. Entire YouTube channels -- like How to Cake It, MyCupcakeAddiction, and Man About Cake (to name only a few) -- have been devoted to the topic. 

When I took the Wilton cake decorating courses about ten or so years ago, we learned the technique used for the original character cakes, covering the surface with small piped stars to show the detail of the pan. We practiced this, however, on a flat 8" round. While I remember being capable of the piping technique, until about a year ago, it never really occurred to me to try it on an actual character cake. I watched a YouTube creator trying to make a 3D Garfield cake using a vintage Wilton pan set. Instantly, I had serious FOMO. As I recall, his cake was a bit of a disaster, but being a Garfield lover, I started wondering if I could find a pan online.

I looked at eBay, PoshMark, and Etsy. It wasn't difficult to find a Garfield pan and, in fact, there were several different designs to choose from. Knowing that the 3D pan was unlikely to bake correctly because of the volume of batter, I decided to purchase a more traditional character pan. About $40 and two weeks later, it arrived.

Now, originally, this cake pan would have included a plastic piece detailing Garfield's eyes, nose, and mouth that would be positioned on top of the iced cake. The pan I bought online didn't have this piece, but I was ok with that. I had already determined that if I ever used the pan, I would make the face out of fondant or modelling chocolate, since I prefer to have entirely edible components on my cakes if possible. I put the pan into my cake decorating cabinet until the right moment would come to use it. 

Until then, it's a piece of nostalgia that triggers memories of both the character cakes of my childhood and my favourite orange cat.