"I do not think it means what you think it means."

Back when I did my professional chocolatier program, I wrote a blog post titled, "What the heck is a truffle anyway?" On the surface, the term seemed simple, especially for anyone who's enjoyed a Lindt milk chocolate truffle at Christmas (perhaps following a Festive Special at Swiss Chalet, but I digress). 

Throughout the course, "truffle" was used to refer to both bonbons of a particular shape and ganache-based confections generally (including those cut into squares and those molded into a variety of shapes). I remember discussing this with my friend and colleague, the late Robert Campbell. He felt it didn't matter what a truffle was made from, so long as it was produced without a mold and resembled a truffle (the fungus). But the proliferation of "truffles" made from cookies, cookie dough, cake, and other ingredients that are coated in candy melts -- and devoid of any real chocolate -- give me pause. As my thinking on it has evolved, I believe it's part form and part formula, so for me it's a hand-formed, ganache-based confection in a spherical or conical shape. 

As I continue reading Notter's The Art of the Chocolatier, I once again find myself questioning a word I thought I understood: praline. I've always known the term to refer to a caramelized, nut-based confection (one that, in my mind, is crunchy) -- yet in front of me is a recipe for a butter ganache praline that doesn't contain any nuts and definitely isn't crunchy. 

In my head, I can hear Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride saying, "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

And so down the rabbit hole I go -- it's hard not to as a researcher. 

As it turns out, there are multiple uses of the term praline. It can indeed refer to a nut-based confection, usually almond or hazelnut, as I had thought (turns out that one is French). There's also an American praline, where pecans are combined with sugar and cream, resulting in a fudge-like confection. And in the Belgian use of the term, praline can refer to any soft centre contained within a chocolate shell. Regarding the latter, pralines have apparently always exhibited significant variety in terms of shape and flavour, are more sophisticated in their decoration than truffles (which tend to be simple, more rustic), and are popular in gift boxes. 

Now, that last description has me thinking. That blueberry iceberg bonbon that I made during my chocolatier program? That seems closer to a praline than a truffle, given that it was comprised of a molded dark chocolate shell hand painted with coloured cocoa butter and filled with a soft blueberry white chocolate filling. 

That leads me to two thoughts:

First, there should be a game called Truffle, Praline, or Bonbon? and the prize should be chocolate.

Second, I wish I could pick Robert's brain in the cafeteria one more time and discuss in depth the term praline. 

Rest easy, friend. You will be missed.

 

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.