Coconut Chocolate Bars

When I was a kid, my favourite piece in the Moirs Pot of Gold chocolate collection was the toasted coconut cup. While I clearly liked the flavour, equally enjoyable was the sound of the cup peeling away from the chocolate. As I recall, I wasn't the only one who liked it (indeed, my sister and I may have fought over it), so it was particularly special if you were the first one to the box. 

While completing my chocolatier program, I stumbled upon Hercules Candy. They were still producing chocolate in their basement at the time and I learned a lot about small batch processes by watching their videos, including how to make cherry cordials. They also made nut cups and I was impressed with the wooden tray they had manufactured to hold the cups while being filled. That summer, my father made one for me. 

As I began creating assorted chocolate collections for holidays, I made use of the tray. More often than not, I used it to hold cups while I filled them with a meltaway mixture. Sometimes I made solid pieces with fruit and nuts. But to my knowledge, I've never used them to make coconut cups or clusters. It occurred to me recently that a coconut bar would be just as delightful as the cup -- and perhaps more so because a bar would mean more chocolate! As I prepared Easter eggs to send home to my family, I decided to test a silicone mold I'd purchased online to make small coconut bars that I could add to my flat rate box. (Might as well stuff it with as much chocolate as possible!)

I tempered 200g of milk chocolate and added 20 grams of coconut. Once they were well combined, I began filling the mold. After tapping the mold to release the air bubbles, I popped the tray in the fridge to set. Fifteen minutes later, I had seven delightful little bars! After they fully crystallized, I wrapped them in foil and added a sticker to the back. 

These are delicious -- the perfect little ~25g treat! I also love the patterns picked up by the foil wrapping.   

Three-Part Molds

A recent innovation in chocolate molds has been the introduction of three-part molds. Targeting home candy makers, they are meant to make the process of molding easier, but I've always wondered if they work. Naturally, when I found one on clearance at Michaels for $3, I had to buy one.

Three-part molds are comprised of: (1) the mold itself, which has a fill line; (2) a flexible insert that is about 1/8" smaller than the mold; and (3) a rigid cap that presses the flexible insert into the chocolate, causing the chocolate to rise up the sides of the mold. The result is a shell with even thickness (more or less). One of the key benefits is the flat edge that it creates; the thicker "wall" of chocolate enables the two pieces to then be assembled with better alignment. 

This all sounds good in theory, but what's it like in practice? I picked a mold out of my collection to test. 

Well, I can tell you that the first challenge to present itself was the visibility of the fill line when looking down at the mold. It couldn't be seen. At all. The line was only truly visible, at least to my bespectacled eyes, when the mold was held up to a light on an angle. That doesn't really facilitate filling the mold with melted chocolate. As a result, it's easy to add too little chocolate -- resulting in gaps -- or too much chocolate -- causing it to overflow (and requiring subsequent trimming). It might help to mark the line on the outside of the mold with a piece of tape or something similar.

After the chocolate sets, the flexible inserts must be removed before unmolding the shells. Unlike harder plastics that release easily from set chocolate, the flexible inserts seemed to hold on a little more than they should. And, not unlike many silicone molds, they created a dull surface to the chocolate. While this isn't a major problem, because the inside isn't seen, it certainly added to the time required and resulted in additional clean up. 

Despite these issues, the mold did produce a shell with even thickness and a good "foot" for assembly.

Unfortunately, it turned out that the first mold I chose to test had a design flaw. The neck joining the bear's head to its body was particularly thin. This created a weak spot between the large head and body. Unable to support the weight, it cracked during the unmolding process. Upon examining it, I feel fairly confident that cracking would be the rule rather than the exception with this mold. 

Undeterred, I still filled the bear with candy and assembled the pieces to create the 3D figure. It's very cute! In the future, I may use it for a filled or solid confection. I may also experiment with replacing the third piece of the mold after removing the flexible inserts and before tapping out to see if that helps to support the chocolate and reduce breakage. And, in any event, it's possible to hide the flaw by adding a ribbon around the bear's neck or adding some decoration with royal icing or tempered chocolate. 

Fortunately, this sort of weak spot doesn't appear in most of the other 3-part molds that I purchased. The sphere, diamond, and cupcake are definitely safe -- confirmed with milk chocolate. The champagne bottle, which I haven't yet tested, may present some problems only because the neck of the bottle is so narrow. We'll mark that TBD when an appropriate occasion crops up to test it. 

Until then, I invite you to appreciate how cute this chocolate bear's tail is! 

 

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. 

Discounted Chocolate

How many of you wait until the day after Valentine's Day or Halloween (or any holiday for that matter) to buy discounted chocolate? Maybe you go for a box of Turtles, or a bag of Lindt truffles, or the can of Quality Street that you couldn't afford before Christmas. Almost always, it's industrial chocolate that you're buying. And to be clear, there's no judgement here. Industrial chocolate is delicious. (I'm looking at you, Reese peanut butter cups.) It's not normally ethically sourced, single origin chocolate made by a small business.

So you can imagine my surprise last weekend while strolling through the clearance section of Michaels (of all places!) when I saw a small box of chocolates that was now 70% off. I noticed that the label referred to "farm to bar chocolate" and thought it interesting. The brand, Truffle Pig, sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. After confirming the price of a mere $2.10 at a self-serve scanner, I decided whatever they were, they were worth it. 

I have to admit, I was a little confused to have found this chocolate at Michaels. I spend a fair amount of time browsing there. I'm familiar with the horribly overpriced industrial chocolate and other snacks near the cash registers. Despite being at Michaels several times before Christmas, I don't recall having seen these anywhere in the store. Their sudden appearance after Christmas is a bit of a mystery to me. In any event...

Truffle Pig Chocolate is based in British Columbia. A woman-owned business, it is focussed on ethical chocolate that is sourced in fair and sustainable ways. A box of five truffles (aka piglets) can be purchased from their website for $6.00 and chocolate bars start at $3.75 each. These are already reasonable prices!

One of the things we liked about them immediately was that each truffle is individually wrapped. Now, admittedly, this does increase the amount of packaging (and is the type of wrapper that can't easily be recycled) and so is less sustainable from that perspective. But it does ensure the freshness of each piece when eaten over a longer period of time.

Ok, let's be honest, you can easily eat this box in one sitting, but as I write this I'm proud to report that four days later, there are two piglets left. (No promises on how much longer they will survive...)

The colourful packaging is appealing and clearly identifies the various flavours. And it features their very recognizable, happy pigs. (Why pigs, you ask? Because pigs are known to be truffle hunters -- the fungus variety, not the chocolate.)

Made with single origin chocolate from Nicaragua (you can meet the farmers here), these truffles are delicious. When I've tried other single-origin chocolate, I've often been surprised by the fruity or floral notes, but these, to me, had more of an earthy undertone. The chocolate is smooth and has just the right amount of sweetness. The peanut butter and hazelnut centres were beautifully balanced and the piglets were, quite frankly, cute.  

So, here's to discounted ethical chocolate and discovering it in unexpected places! And if you have the opportunity to purchase Truffle Pig Chocolate in the future, regardless of the price, it's entirely worth every penny. 

Repairing Ganache

Some of you may recall that last year I had a rather epic fail in my kitchen, when I made an orange white chocolate ganache to fill Easter eggs. I was baffled by it at the time and none of the salvage tips I could find online actually worked well enough for me to use it as planned. This week while continuing my chocolate reading, I found the explanation for what occurred and, more importantly, how to fix this issue in the future. 

According to Greweling, "A ganache that requires the addition of liquid to re-emulsify it is too high in fat. Its formula should therefore be adjusted for future batches" (Chocolates and Confections, p. 95). Now that I think about it, the white chocolate ganache I made, flavoured with orange oil and made with butter in addition to cream, definitely had a higher fat content than is the norm. Adding more cream and more melted white chocolate did nothing to fix the issue because those additions didn't improve the ratio of fat to water. Had I added milk or even water, I might have had a different result and more success in repairing the broken ganache. And when I remade the ganache the following day, I essentially did reformulate the recipe, because I used less butter and more cream, which in turn altered the ratio of fat to water. Heavy cream has a fat content of about 35%, while butter has a fat content of about 80%.  

The idea that a ganache could have too much fat has never been on my radar. Too much water, sure -- that would shorten the shelf-life. But too much fat? 

Usually when we talk about ganache, we talk about ratios of chocolate to cream (or whatever else is being used to soften the chocolate). Milk chocolate requires half as much cream as dark chocolate to achieve the desired effect and white chocolate requires half as much cream as milk chocolate. So the ratios we were taught really weren't expressed in terms of fat content, but in terms of the type of chocolate. When making ganache, it's not uncommon to substitute alcohol, butter, or even water for some or all of the cream, complicating things further. And while I've noticed that alcohol in a ganache causes it to behave differently, I simply attributed it to some characteristic of the alcohol and not specifically a change in the fat to water ratio. 

Once you deviate from a traditional ganache recipe, it seems, you have to pay attention to the fat to water ratio. Lesson learned. 

I also learned another interesting tidbit during this week's reading. Not enough to warrant a blog post, but fascinating nevertheless. I already knew that starch molding is a common method of making fondant, jelly, and cordial centres that are later enrobed in chocolate. I was first introduced to this confectionary technique while watching the YouTube videos of Hercules Candy. You press shapes into cornstarch (or another starch mixture), deposit liquid centres into the wells, leave them to crystallize, and then remove them from the starch mold to be covered in chocolate. But did you know that starch is flammable‽ (Yes, I just used an interrobang. It seems appropriate in this context.) Greweling cautions, "Should a large quantity of [starch] become airborne and be exposed to an open flame, the result could be a flash fire or explosion" (p. 90). 

While I'm all for experiential learning, I'm happy to acquire this knowledge by reading instead!

Chocolate Intentions

It's that time of year again when many people reflect on the past year and make resolutions for the next. Personally, I stopped making resolutions several years ago for a few reasons. First, too often we associate resolutions with deprivation -- some of the most common involve eating less or giving up particular "vices." Second, while today no doubt marks the end of one year and the start of the next, I've always felt that Spring, with trees and flowers coming alive and the return of birds and squirrels, as well as September, with the excitement of the new academic year, were just as important (perhaps more important) periods of renewal. Finally, let's be honest, without a plan, resolutions are destined to fail. 

And so for the last few years, instead of making resolutions, I make a list of things I want to do or accomplish in the next year. Instead of resolving to do less of something, I make a list of intentions that are about doing more. Sure, my list from time to time has included eating more vegetables or moving more. But one year I decided to eat more cheese and let me tell you that I had a great year selecting a different cheese each week to add to my lunch bag. Sure, people laughed when resolutions came up in conversation and I revealed that I was planning to eat more cheese, but I'm willing to bet I was far more successful in my endeavour than they were in giving up sugar! (Incidentally, if you haven't tried Coeur de Lion mini soft cheese, you're missing out.)

Since I enjoy baking and cooking, my list of intentions invariably includes a few recipes that I want to try. Often these are more time-intensive or complicated recipes, like Julia Child's boeuf bourguignon. But sometimes they are simple, like Cincinnati chili. (I recommend both.) My list also includes crafts I'd like to make. Last year, this meant M&M Christmas ornaments were on the list -- and I was particularly pleased with how they turned out!

Of course, as those of you reading this blog know, I also started 2023 wanting to spend more time on chocolate, to advance my skills and try new recipes and methods -- and, as a result, I think this year's chocolate assortment was my best work yet. That didn't happen by accident, but by plan. I supported my intention by setting aside time in my schedule. Tuesday evening became "chocolate night." I made this intention known to family and friends. I decided that I would use this blog as a way to hold myself accountable. And when necessary, I purchased the tools and ingredients to advance my practice (a chocolate stencil, citric acid, artisanal chocolate). Consequently, it's been a great year. I enjoyed my quiet evenings of study, I can see improvement in my work, and I feel a sense of accomplishment. Many in my circle have been very encouraging and supportive of this endeavour, and I appreciate that more than words or gifts of chocolate could say. 

And so what's next? 

There's no question that my intention of "more chocolate" will remain for 2024. In fact, I've already replenished my dark chocolate stash and purchased an ingredient I've been wanting to try for five years! While I still expect to observe "chocolate night" weekly, it may become a little less rigid to accommodate other intentions, like making "Basque burnt cheesecake" that I saw on Crime Scene Kitchen (though I suppose I could make a chocolate sauce to drizzle over it and maintain the chocolate connection!). I'd like to bake bread more often as well, since there really is no comparison between homemade bread and store bought. I'm thinking that Soup January may be a good opportunity. (Incidentally, Soup January started a few years ago as an intention to eat more vegetables after the excess of the holiday season, but has become a tradition that I look forward to every year.) 

I have also decided that 2024 is the year that I will learn to service my sewing machine. I've had it since I was about 14 years old and it's never been properly cleaned or oiled. I'm determined to acquire this skill and show my sewing machine the love it deserves, if only motivated by the fact that a basic service costs in excess of $100 now (!). In the spirit of setting myself up for success in this regard, I've located and saved a video tutorial on YouTube, brought my grandmother's vintage Singer oil applicator back from Newfoundland, and ordered a bottle of sewing machine oil which should arrive by Old Christmas Day. Wish me luck! 

As for this blog, I hope it will continue and that you'll indulge me when the topic strays from chocolate to other endeavours. 

I'd love to hear what your intentions are for 2024. Until then...

Best wishes for the New Year!

2023 Christmas Assortment

Now that the majority of the boxes have been delivered, I can blog more specifically about this year's Christmas assortment!

For 2023, I made 30 four-flavour boxes, up from last year's 24. This was deliberate on my part, since I had planned to offer a few up for sale on Facebook for those who don't normally get to try my chocolates. Thanks to slightly larger batch sizes for two of the recipes, I also unexpectedly had enough pieces to pack 12 two-flavour boxes, half of which I also intended to sell. Unfortunately, my plan was foiled last week when my travel itinerary abruptly changed due to weather and I left for home two days early. I handed out the extra four-flavour boxes to individuals in the hall before leaving campus and tossed the six remaining two-flavour boxes into my carry-on to give out at our annual Crappy Craft Night. 

The four-flavour box included a salted caramel enrobed in dark chocolate, an orange cardamom truffle hand-rolled in dark chocolate, an apricot brandy praline with a dark chocolate shell, and a milk chocolate peanut butter meltaway. The salted caramel featured Sonoran sea salt, given to me by a friend who lives in Arizona. The orange cardamom truffle was prepared using whole cardamom pods, given to me by another friend earlier in the year. The peanut butter meltaway contained no special ingredients, but was a departure from the usual mint meltaway (and I think it would make a delicious filling in the future). But the really special creation this year was the apricot brandy praline.

A nod to my grandmother, who was known to keep a bottle of apricot brandy in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator, this praline has been in the works since January. It was then that I decided I would try a layered bonbon, initially thinking I would pair an apricot brandy ganache with a layer of marzipan, since I love the combination of apricots and almonds. In July, while in Newfoundland, I purchased a bottle of apricot brandy, since it doesn't appear to be available in any Nova Scotian liquor stores (in comparison, NLC had several different brands to choose from -- obviously Newfoundlanders like their apricot brandy). By the fall, my thinking had evolved and instead of pairing the ganache with marzipan, I decided to pair it with apricot jam to brighten and emphasize the apricot flavour. Featuring a dark chocolate shell decorated with copper edible luster dust, the final product had a dollop of apricot jam encased in apricot brandy ganache. And while I only got to try one of them before packaging, I think the jam was the right decision to create a burst of flavour. I was thrilled with the results -- a true homage to Honora. 

After filling 30 shells with apricot brandy ganache, I found myself with enough ganache to make another 20 truffles, and so I piped and rolled and hand-enrobed those as well. They were paired with the remaining peanut butter meltaways to create smaller treat boxes. While the truffles hit a little different than the pralines, due to the absence of the apricot jam, they still pack a flavour punch. 

I'm very pleased with how this year's assortment turned out. I think it's some of my best work, not only in terms of the flavours, but also in terms of the execution. This is the first year that I've nailed the temper of my chocolate for every piece that I produced. And I finally feel like I'm getting the hang of hand-rolling truffles. 

Hopefully those lucky enough to receive these boxes enjoyed them. Chocolate made in truly small batch quantities is qualitatively different from that which is mass-produced. And every piece is a labour of love. 

The best things really do come in small packages. 

Shelling Pralines

In the past few years, I've moved away from using molds when preparing chocolates for Christmas unless the piece is solid. This is because the process of "shelling," depending on which method you use, can be slow or messy. 

When I first started making chocolates as a kid, I used the method I had learned from my Girl Guide leader (which is also the method advanced in many Wilton tutorials, which might be where she learned it). Using a good quality paintbrush, you paint the mold with a layer of chocolate. Once it sets, you paint a second coat, paying particular attention to the areas where you can see light through the chocolate. Then you proceed with filling and capping. This is easy enough and can result in a very thin shell, but it is also very time consuming and depending on how intricate the mold is and how many you're doing, it can be a race against the clock to get the wells painted before your tempered chocolate crystallizes in the bowl. 

The method we were taught in the professional chocolatier program was to ladle chocolate into the wells of the mold, tap it a few times to release any air bubbles, and then invert it (either over parchment or a large bowl) and tap vigorously before scraping the excess off and leaving the shells to set. Obviously, this is a much quicker method, which is great for production, but it can be tricky to figure out how to hold and manipulate the mold the first few times you do it and it's messy.

It wasn't until last week that I tried the third method. It was one that I remember seeing during my chocolatier training. In a video profiling a home-based chocolatier in British Columbia, we watched him pipe the chocolate into his molds. He said it was a cleaner way of working -- and it certainly seemed that way. In essence, he had turned himself into the human equivalent of a depositor (which is used in larger scale production of chocolate). 

The night before I planned to shell my molds, I decorated them with luster dust. Because the luster dust is mixed with alcohol to create an edible "paint," it requires a few hours to fully dry before the mold can be filled. 

The next day, armed with 400g of tempered dark chocolate, I filled a piping bag and deposited chocolate into each well of my chosen mold. Easy enough and very clean. I gave it a few taps on the counter to release any air bubbles, flipped it over, and tapped with the handle of my drywall knife as the excess chocolate drained down onto my counter (which had been covered with a piece of waxed paper). Then a quick scrape across the mold to remove the excess chocolate and the shells were ready to set! Easy peasy, right? 

While this worked perfectly -- and I do mean perfectly -- my next decision was the wrong one. Since I'm aiming for about 30 boxes of chocolates this year, I had a second mold prepared with the intention of shelling another half mold (each mold has 21 wells). I used my drywall knife to collect the chocolate from the waxed paper, returned it to the piping bag, and tried to shell another 12 wells. Now, the entire time I was doing this, a little voice in my head was saying, "This is a bad idea." But I did it anyway. And the result? I didn't shell my mold. I ended up with solid chocolate pieces. The chocolate had thickened to the point that it wouldn't drain from the wells, no matter how much I tapped. I ended up having to re-temper chocolate to make the additional pieces I needed, but they have no decoration because I didn't have time to paint them and let it set. 

Now, despite this hiccup, I definitely would use the piping bag method again. It was cleaner and it was relatively quick. In the future, I would just temper more chocolate or temper it in batches instead of trying to be efficient in the way I described. (Side note: If I had a large melter or even a large bowl of tempered chocolate that the excess was falling into, this wouldn't have been a problem; however, I work in very small quantities.)

As for the results, I'm very happy with how these turned out. There are fewer imperfections in the shell (no air bubbles to be seen) and look at that shine! It's like a mirror!

I definitely want to mold more pieces in the future as a result!

Meltaway Magic

Have you ever savoured a mint meltaway and wondered why it was such a magical experience? The answer is eutectics. 

A eutectic mixture is one in which the melting point of the mixture is lower than the melting point of its discrete parts. In the confectionary context, this usually refers to a mixture that combines two different fats (cocoa butter and coconut oil), which results in a melting point much lower than that of either cocoa butter or coconut oil. When the combined fat hits the palate, it quickly melts and disperses the flavour. 

Boom! The magical meltaway effect. 

Greweling observes: "The transition from a solid to a liquid state happens so quickly that it is possible to feel the heat being absorbed from the mouth. This is the reason that centers of this description actually leave a cool feeling on the palate as they rapidly melt" (Chocolates and Confections, page 411).

This cooling sensation can be amplified through flavouring, such as mint, which itself has a cooling sensation. I've also made wintergreen meltaways. However, the meltaway technique can also be used with nut pastes.

It's easy enough to make a meltaway from an online recipe like this one (which is based on a recipe in Greweling's book). While it is common to "slab" the meltaway and then cut it into pieces, I prefer to pour the mixture into candy cups and let it crystallize. For me, it's easier for handling and packaging.

These are one of the easiest things you could ever make and are perfect for gifting this time of year.

And, as an added benefit, you can discuss eutectics over a cocktail at your office Christmas party!

 

Planning a Christmas Assortment Box

I've always made sweet treats to give to friends and family at Christmastime. It could be a s'mores chocolate bark with Teddy Grahams and mini marshmallows or Skor fudge, or some other confection. But after completing my professional chocolatier program in 2018, I began using Christmas as an opportunity to test new recipes and keep up my chocolate skills. First I would pick a few recipes to bring home to my parents, but this slowly transitioned into creating a small assortment for them. And since the smallest batch of chocolates I make tends to result in 20-25 pieces, I found myself filling about 20-24 boxes, reserving 6-7 to take home, and sharing what remained with friends and coworkers. Once I realized this was going to be "a thing," I ordered four-piece ballotin boxes and some personalized stickers to seal them. 

Last year's four-piece box included a cointreau dark chocolate truffle, a spiced molasses honeycomb toffee dipped in dark chocolate, a milk chocolate salted caramel, and a white chocolate fruit and nut cup with pistachios and dried cranberries. The assortment for 2021 featured a dark chocolate salted caramel, a milk chocolate orange truffle, a marzipan centre enrobed in dark chocolate, and a wintergreen meltaway. And the year before that, the boxes were filled with a sour cherry truffle, a fruit and nut cup with peanuts and raisins, a mint meltaway, and a dark chocolate salted caramel. 

You may see a pattern emerging here. There's always a truffle, because they are delicious and because I've been experimenting with efficient ways of forming, rolling, and enrobing. Sometimes I scoop and sometimes I pipe, but when it comes to enrobing them I've landed on hand rolling as my preferred method. Salted caramels are very popular and standard in most assortments, and they enable me to practice my skills using dipping forks. The remaining two pieces are more variable, but are usually designed to present variety in texture and/or type of chocolate (since my default tends to be dark chocolate). Importantly, across the four pieces, there are some with longer keeping limits, which allows me to produce some of the pieces throughout November, instead of having to produce everything over a day or two in December prior to packing. Some are less labour-intensive (like nut cups and meltaways) and some are more labour-intensive (like truffles and caramels). 

And so as I begin to plan for the 2023 assortment, I'm thinking about ideas for new flavours that have emerged from my chocolate study, as well as considerations of variety in chocolate, technique, shape, and finish, and practical concerns like keeping limits. I've been keeping notes throughout the year, which has led to more than four options, so decisions will have to be made -- like whether to maintain the traditional salted caramel or switch things up this year. And that decision will need to be made very soon, because production starts next week!

What is your favourite piece in a chocolate assortment? 

Chocolate Indulgence

This week, a friend brought a bag of low sugar coconut cups to work. She'd bought them at a big box store and was disappointed with them. Naturally, the solution was to put them in the break room where they rapidly disappeared. 

Curious, I grabbed one for analysis. At 80 calories per piece with only 3g of sugar and made of organic dark chocolate, they certainly have their appeal -- for the "health benefits" of chocolate and their keto- and low-carb-diet-friendly composition. I expected to find alternative or artificial sweeteners on the ingredient list, but didn't. 

I bit into one. The chocolate appeared to be in good temper. At 85%, it came across as very bitter and the centre didn't have a particularly strong coconut flavour. My immediate thought was that it entirely lacked balance. There wasn't enough sweetness to balance the brute chocolate, nor was there any salt. Beyond that, the centre had a strange texture. I returned to the ingredient list and was surprised to see white chocolate listed. Instead of combining the coconut with sugar for the filling, they had set it with white chocolate. Nothing wrong with that of course, but the two ingredients have very different crystal structures that result in different textures.

Now if you're someone who prefers less sweet treats or if you have dietary restrictions that require you to track your sugar, these could be a good choice as an "indulgent" snack (as they are marketed). But they won't give you the same experience of, say, a Bounty bar if that's what you were hoping for. And if that's what you were hoping for, I'm not sure you'll be satisfied. It might make more sense to buy the bounty bar and share it with a friend or save half for another day. 

Interestingly, this taste experience aligned incredibly well with my chocolate study this week. I've moved on from Notter's The Art of the Chocolatier and have started reading Chocolates & Confections: Formula, Theory, and Technique for the Artisan Confectioner by Peter Greweling. This beast of a book is a confectioner's bible. In online forums, it's referenced regularly when chocolatiers discuss challenges with particular centres, formulations, etc. Greweling's recipes often are suggested as the starting point for a chocolatier's riffing and experimentation. 

The first chapter, titled "Confectionary Ingredients and Equipment" devotes 5 pages of very small font to sweeteners, their properties, and their applications. For the confectioner, sweeteners aren't just about flavour, they are about function and form. And, as Greweling points out, understanding sugar's "tendency [to crystallize] and knowing how to control it are two of the most fundamental concepts in confectionary" (p.2). Crystal structure is what gives good fudge its characteristic texture. 

And that's also what gives a Bounty bar is form and mouthfeel -- the characteristics that were missing in the low-sugar coconut cup.

Chicken Bone Nougat?

On a recent trip to Peggy's Cove, I noticed Bubba Magoo's Fudge on the map of nearby shops. Naturally, I had to stop. So, after enjoying the view and taking the obligatory lighthouse photo, we headed for a purple building that really stood out. 

Bubba Magoo's offers small batch fudge, brittles, and jams, as well as freshly baked cookies. Based on their website, it appears these are "house-made." (I bought a peanut butter fudge.) They also have an incredible assortment of candy available -- but it's obviously "industrial" candy (like sour keys) that definitely isn't locally made. And then there's the in-between. A subtle distinction appears on some of their packaging -- "Maritime-made" with a maple leaf. This was the case for the most interesting item in the store: Chicken Bone Nougat.

I did a double take. Yes, I'd read the label correctly. 

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I love chicken bones. And a few years ago, chicken bones were having a moment. Moonshine Creek Distillery decided to make chicken bones liqueur. I lamented on Facebook about my inability to purchase a bottle locally. That Christmas, I received four bags of chicken bones as presents, along with the highly sought-after liqueur. It was incredible in hot chocolate. The following spring, I made a pilgrimage to Glace Bay to try a chicken bones cheese cake. Everything was coming up chicken bones! And then the moment passed.

Until last week. I found the nougat! (Or did the nougat find me?)

It turns out this chicken bones nougat is made by Ganong, though nothing on the label indicates that. Bubba Magoo's has obviously repackaged it for sale in small bags at a premium. Don't get me wrong -- it was going home with me regardless. But I do believe in truth in advertising and origins of chocolate, so I feel like somewhere on the package it should have said where it came from. 

Nevertheless, it was a delicious bite. A soft, creamy pink centre with that characteristic cinnamon flavour enrobed in dark chocolate. From my Googling tonight, I've learned that these were (re)introduced in the Delecto boxes of chocolate in December 2013. (I say "re" because I've read comments that suggest they used to be in boxes "a long time ago" and that "they suck now," suggesting they were better before.) And the chicken bone on the cake is that Ganong suggests you use them in their cheese cake recipe. 

I have no idea how these could have existed for a decade without me knowing. 

When I first found these in Peggy's Cove, I was curious about how a chicken bones nougat could be made. Now that I've tried several, I'm actually thinking they are a "cream" molded in starch and then enrobed in chocolate, rather than an actual nougat that would be slabbed and cut into pieces for enrobing. A nougat would have had a chewier texture. 

Am I contemplating making my own version? Of course I am. I have a lot to think about in terms of how the texture and flavour could best be achieved. But tasting these has reaffirmed what I've always known: that chocolate and cinnamon deserve to be together more often.

And I'm making a note of that in my book of chocolate inspiration. 

Chocolate Inspiration

About a month ago, I saw a several of my coworkers leaving campus with beautiful gift boxes that smelled heavenly -- presents from a partnership meeting that occurred earlier in the day. I admit I was mildly jealous. I'd been in marathon meetings for what seemed like weeks, but there were no presents to be had. Then, just as I was packing up for the day, a colleague popped by my office and gave me her gift box. I was thrilled -- especially when I opened it to find inside a selection of beautifully aromatic spices. I promised that I would put them to good use making curries. I had one particular curry in mind -- Restaurant Style Egg Masala Curry (do yourself a favour and make this -- watch the video here). 

What my colleague didn't know was that only a week earlier, I had been at Bulk Barn looking at spices and was utterly horrified by the price of cardamom pods. I knew I was getting low, but decided to take a pass in the hope that I would find a more economical source (knowing, of course, that I'd likely end up back at Bulk Barn in a few weeks buying them there anyway). 

Only I didn't! Inside this beautiful gift box were cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, cloves, and black peppercorns. The scent was magnificent. 

It took me a few weeks to get some new spice jars for my growing collection and then I set about separating the peppercorns from the cloves, since they had mingled during transport. And as I stood there engaged in some aromatherapy, my mind wandered from curry to chai. And then it hit me. Sure, this spice stash promised many delicious meals and beverages in the future, but it also could serve as chocolate inspiration. 

"Think. Think. Think," I urged my brain, channeling my inner (Winnie the) Pooh Bear. Clove would be overpowering. Usually pink peppercorns are the preferred pairing for chocolate. Cardamom...

Cardamom! Member of the ginger family. I was sure I'd seen a cardamom praline before and so I took to Google to confirm. Sure enough, several chocolatiers offer cardamom chocolate combinations in a variety of forms -- bars, drinking chocolate, pralines. And given that these warm spices are so closely associated with Christmas, my mind leapt to the idea of using this flavour combination for my annual four-piece box. 

And so the die is cast. It's now my goal to develop an orange cardamom truffle this fall when my chocolate laboratory reopens. While I've seen a few recipes that call for Grand Marnier with cardamom, I suspect that the boozy flavour might overpower the delicate spice. Instead, my plan is to infuse cream using the cardamom pods and some orange zest, and then prepare a dark chocolate ganache for hand-rolled truffles. 

One piece down, three to go!

Savouring Craft Chocolate

Around Easter, I made a pilgrimage to a local grocery store having learned that they stocked Hummingbird chocolate. I was disappointed to find that they only had Easter eggs available and none of the single origin bars. While I enjoyed my chocolate tasting experience, I was a little disappointed -- but not for long! My friend Dennis, who I've known since my undergrad days at Memorial (thank you Dennis!) mailed several of Hummingbird's 28g chocolate bars to me. They were the perfect size for sampling and for savouring.

I actually tried the first one, the PB & Joy bar, several weeks ago and the second one, Fleur de Sel, this week. I'm pacing myself, difficult though it is, but that means there will be a second blog in the coming weeks. 

For now, let me tell you how surprised I was by the PB & Joy bar. It was incredible and I've had nothing like it before. I expected something similar to the peanut butter filled Easter eggs that I had tried in March -- that is, a dark chocolate bar with peanut butter filling. It was nothing like that. The wrapper says they "roast and grind peanuts with cocoa beans from the Dominican Republic with lovely fruity notes." Grinding peanuts with cocoa beans? This bar is next level!

To be honest, I had no idea that such a process was even possible, despite my previous training.  Different fats aren't always compatible, but obviously this combination and their technique works. The chocolate is in perfect temper. (And as I reflect, I do remember reading that gianduja, a mixture of chocolate and ground nuts, could be tempered, but I've never tried it. We'll add that to the list!) 

The resulting bar isn't as intense or sweet as commercial peanut butter chocolate treats, but instead has a satisfying earthiness. If you love the combination of peanuts and chocolate, this is definitely worth trying. 

The Fleur de Sel may be more divisive, although I very much enjoyed it. A 70% dark chocolate bar with Canadian sea salt, the Fleur de Sel is has a very pronounced floral flavour. While it teeters on the edge of too floral, it isn't unpleasant in the way that other chocolates with strong floral notes can be (click here to read about my first chocolate tasting experience). 

When first trying this bar, it is difficult to taste the salt at all -- and to be clear, they indicate that the salt is meant to enhance the floral notes, not to overpower them. That said, when you let the chocolate dissolve slowly on your tongue, the salt becomes more pronounced and the flavours much more complex. 

A word of caution, though: the floral flavour does linger for a few minutes (or more) after tasting. 

In short, these are really unique, well-made artisanal bars that are worth trying (and you can order them here if you don't have a Dennis of your own). The PB & Joy bar, in particular, is outstanding and would probably be delicious with a rich cup of coffee. I highly recommend it!

But more than that, I strongly encourage you to step out of the box. Treat yourself! Try something new. Challenge your taste buds! And support a small chocolate producer at the same time. Their fine chocolate is worth the premium price. 

Malted Graham Sandwich Bar

Last week I blogged about the Moirs Malted Graham Sandwich Bar that both a friend and a cousin had remembered and mentioned in conversation. And this week, I'm presenting my take on that same candy bar. Why? Well, life is short and when my brain fixates on something, it's best to just go with it. 

So here we are.

Graham crackers, I thought, would be the easy part of this endeavour. I located a recipe that looked good and had solid reviews. I mixed up the dough, using Bourbon Madagascar vanilla and Newfoundland honey that I've been saving for a special occasion. I followed the recipe to the letter and even chilled the dough before and after rolling. I selected what I thought would be the perfect size square cutter and I spaced them generously on the cookie sheet. And you guessed it! By the time they finished baking, my graham squares were a full half inch larger than intended. Note to self, next time choose the smallest cutter size. 

Next I turned to the malted cream filling. After giving it some thought, I decided that a whipped ganache was the way to go. It was an interesting decision considering that I've never made whipped ganache before, but from what I knew about it, I thought it would produce a creamier texture for the filling and, by whipping it, it should turn lighter in colour. So I researched malted ganache recipes. Finding some made with white chocolate and some with milk, I wasn't quite sure how to proceed. But knowing that white chocolate is often sickly sweet, I decided to try something new yet again and made the ganache with two parts white chocolate and three parts milk chocolate. I dissolved the malt powder in the heated cream before pouring it over the chopped chocolate. After leaving it for 5 minutes, it whisked into a beautiful ganache. The malt flavour is a little light, so I might increase the powder if I make it again, but the flavour is so delicious that I'm wondering why malted milk truffles aren't a thing. 

The following day, after the ganache had fully set, I brought it back to room temperature and whipped it with a hand mixer. Sure enough, it became paler in colour the more I whipped it. I put the ganache in a piping bag and sat down to begin the process of matching graham crackers of a similar size and sandwiching them together with the whipped ganache. Then I put them in the fridge for a few minutes to set up. 

Next I tempered a lot of milk chocolate. More than I normally work with because I knew these chonky sandwiches would require a lot of chocolate. What I hadn't quite sorted out was how to dip them. I had a large fork used for dipping Oreo cookies that I thought would work, but the chocolate was a little too thick. While many recipes will instruct you to thin out the chocolate with Crisco or paraffin wax, in the chocolatier world, the viscosity of chocolate is more commonly altered using additional cocoa butter. That's not something I've ever tried and I also didn't have any on hand. And I couldn't bring myself to add a lesser quality ingredient to my expensive couverture chocolate!

And so I decided to try a technique I've seen while watching Hercules Candy on YouTube. "Quick Steve," as he is called, uses a puddle method for tempering chocolate and coating items, like snack clubs (pretzels coated in peanut butter enrobed in chocolate and rolled in crushed potato chips) or turtle pops (marshmallows covered in caramel coated in chocolate and rolled in pecans). I grabbed a few latex gloves from my pandemic allotment and thought it couldn't be that hard to fill one's hand with chocolate and coat a cookie sandwich.

I was wrong. 

This is not as easy as Quick Steve makes it look. I guess, like everything, it takes time to develop the technique, the coordination, the feel (and he's had a lifetime of practice). I did the best I could coating them, but it was messy as all heck. I also struggled to get good coverage on the edges. My kingdom for an enrobing machine!

Seriously, though, the hand coating worked better than the fork and I imagine if I did a few hundred of these, I'd get it down to a science. On a few I added a decorative swirl with my finger. And then I popped everything into the fridge to crystallize. 

The end result?

That's one delicious sandwich. I can understand why people still talk about them. I'd probably make a few tweaks if I made them again -- a smaller cookie cutter, a chocolate with a higher fluidity, a little more malt in the whipped ganache -- but I'm not angry at it. 

I'll be very curious to see how these store. One potential issue is the graham cracker absorbing moisture from the whipped ganache and softening as a result. If that does happen, then some sort of barrier, like a thin coat of chocolate on the graham cracker before sandwiching, might be necessary. Time will also tell if these will survive a freeze-thaw cycle. I've had a few requests to bring these home next month, and the whipped ganache won't be stable enough to sit for a month, I suspect. So into the freezer go a few of these for sure. 

Hopefully the recipients will enjoy them and savour a memory from childhood while they're at it. 

So much power in such a small sandwich.

Postscript: On day four, my boyfriend tried one and the graham crackers were completely softened, not unlike a wagon wheel. He still thought they were good. I personally have no idea if the original was crispy or firm when biting into it, or if it was softer and chewier. But maybe softer and chewier is ok? Someone who had the real deal will have to let me know! 

Chocolate Memories

When I started my professional chocolatier program several years ago, there was a great deal of discussion about fine chocolate in contrast to commercial chocolate, as well as the development of taste and preferences. As I planned to host a chocolate tasting, I remember posting on Facebook and inviting my friends to tell me their favourite chocolate of all time. Not surprisingly, the vast majority of posts were about commercial chocolate. Interestingly, though, many were memories of discontinued candy bars from childhood. It was a fascinating discussion. 

While I recognized some of the candy bars referenced, there were several that were new to me, so I searched for pictures and descriptions of many of them online. One that stood out was a comment about a 4 Flavours bar. 

My research revealed that it was a Neilson creation, sort of like a Caramilk bar, but with four different fillings -- vanilla, caramel, chocolate, and bordeaux. Having no idea what "bordeaux" referred to, I researched that as well and discovered it was a butterscotch flavour. Fascinated by this, I ordered a chocolate bar mold and began planning how to recreate the experience for my friend for Christmas. I was thrilled with the results (but it will probably be a very long time before I do it again, given the work associated with making all of those fillings and keeping them at the right working temperature). 

More recently I've had discussions about a particular chocolate-coated graham cracker candy bar -- first with a friend at work and then again with a cousin on Facebook (completely unrelated and in a time span of about 2 months). 

What was this mysterious treat? Described as two graham squares with a mocha-coloured, cream-type filling in the centre, covered in chocolate, and sold two pieces in one package, it was reportedly delicious. But try as I might, my googling didn't lead to any images of such a bar. And, frankly, this seemed strange to me. Until we figured out the actual name of the bar.

Graham Bar? Graham Square? Graham Sandwich? Graham Sandwich!

Malted Graham Sandwich Bar to be exact. They were manufactured at the Moirs chocolate factory in Dartmouth, which closed in 2007. I found the full product name in the appendix of a master's thesis on Moirs advertising (Thank you Holly Hanes!). Sadly, the thesis didn't have any images associated with this bar and, given that it seems to have been a regional product, it isn't all that surprising that none of us have yet found photographs of one or its packaging online. 

Now, as someone who never saw or tasted a Graham Sandwich, there are a lot of unknowns. I don't have a good sense of how big they were or how thick the cream between the two graham crackers was.  I'm not sure if they were perfect squares or rectangles. And I certainly don't know how malty the malted filling was or what sort of texture and consistency it had (beyond the description that it was a cream). Nevertheless, the flavour combination sounds divine and my interest has been piqued! 

The truth is, I can't help but wonder if this should be my next retro candy bar re-creation.

What do you think? Should I make a modern, hand-crafted version of the Malted Graham Sandwich Bar? 

Leave a comment below! And if you remember this sweet treat, then please share your memories of it. 

Hazelnut Cookie Bar

Last night I was watching a seasonal baking competition on Food Network. One of the competitors decided to make a candy bar for the first challenge and I was surprised to see he chose a square silicone mold that I own. I bought it several years ago thinking it would be the perfect size for a chocolate bar. 

I hear you: Great minds think alike (and fools seldom differ). Which are we? It's hard to say, but it was the kick in the pants I needed to actually test out the mold. 

And so this week for my chocolate study, I started by making a simple vanilla sugar cookie. I found a recipe in my small batch baking book that said it holds its shape well and doesn't spread. I mixed it up, cut four square cookies that should fit perfectly inside the mold, and popped them into the oven. And of course, as I should have predicted, when I checked on them, they had spread to giant squares of bubbling cookie lava. I pulled them out of the oven and recut them (removing about a 5mm perimeter from each), and popped them onto a rack to cool.

Next I tempered 200 grams of dark chocolate. I poured about 50 grams into each of four wells and then brushed the chocolate up the sides of each. After tapping it on the counter a few times to ensure that any air bubbles had risen to the surface, I popped the silicone mold on a cookie sheet and tossed it in the fridge for 15 minutes to set.

Then I grabbed some gianduja that was left from another chocolate adventure and heated it gently until it became fluid again, stirring well. I poured 15 grams into each well, then added a cookie to each, and topped them with another 15 grams of gianduja each. I was careful to spread the gianduja so that it completely covered the bottom of the cookies and popped everything in the fridge to set.

Finally, I tempered 250 grams of dark chocolate to cap my bars and poured it over the set gianduja. And you guessed it: back in the fridge for 15 minutes!

The result?

This is a chonky hazelnut cookie bar. 

I like the size of the mold for a square bar (here cut in half diagonally). One big advantage is that you could pour a bar thin enough that it could be mailed in a slot box to anywhere! But the mold is also deep enough to allow for some layering of fillings -- which is great if shipping isn't a consideration. It would also work well for individual-sized chocolate bark instead of pouring the larger slab and snapping it into pieces. 

While I didn't quite nail the temper on the shelling of the mold (I rushed it -- my mind was somewhere else and the chocolate sensed it), the flavours are great together. The chocolate is probably a little too thick, but I don't know anyone who ever said no to more chocolate. The cookie adds a nice texture between the creamy gianduja layers. 

Frankly, these are very moreish. 

And since we'll soon hit that time of the year when all chocolate production ceases due to high temperatures (there's no AC in my apartment), it was nice to test out something new (or a variation on a theme, as it were). 

Have I mentioned how much I love gianduja?

A Patron Saint of Confectioners?

Fun fact: Tuesday (May 16th) is the feast day of Saint Honoratus of Amiens. Who's that, you ask? Why, he is the patron saint of confectioners and bakers!

If you grew up Catholic like I did, then you're familiar with the concept of patron saints. Among the famous are Saint Christopher (patron saint of travellers), Saint Anthony (lost articles), Saint Jude (hopeless causes), and Saint Francis of Assisi (environment and animals). And if you sang in the church choir like I did, then you've probably intoned the Litany of the Saints and have heard of the more obscure ones, like Saints Cosmas and Damien (pharmacists), Saint Bartholomew (bookbinders, butchers, and leatherworkers), Saint Kateri Tekakwitha (ecology), and Saint Jerome (archaeologists and librarians). 

Saint Honoratus, I'm afraid, slipped from my memory -- if he was ever there. I've gone back and looked at a few versions of the Litany of the Saints, and he doesn't appear to have made the cut. I (re)discovered he existed during my professional chocolatier program. It was probably in advance of one of the assignments involving cooked sugar, which I find to be terrifying. I vaguely remember wondering if there was a patron saint of chocolatiers to whom I could pray. My quick search on Google revealed there was one for confectioners and I decided that was close enough (perhaps even better given the assignment). 

Saint Honoratus of Amiens (Honoré, sometimes Honorius) died circa 600 CE. He became associated with bakers and confectioners as a result of a baking peel miraculously transforming into a mulberry tree after he was proclaimed a bishop (visit Catholic Online or read the NPR version of the story). Often depicted with loaves of bread and a peel, by the 15th century, he was associated with a guild of bakers in Paris. It is after him that the famous Gateau St. Honoré is named -- a dessert often said to be the ultimate test of a pastry students, with puff pastry, pâte á choux, pastry cream, and caramelized sugar. It was developed in the 19th century at a bakery located on Rue Saint-Honoré in Paris. 

And so, how better to celebrate Saint Honoratus than to make a Gateau St. Honoré‽ 

Just kidding. While I would LOVE to try making this dessert, I would have to do it for a party. It isn't something that will keep more than 24 hours, so it should be eaten shortly after it is made, in one sitting if possible. And as much as I'd like to make a decadent dessert and eat it myself (maybe offering a profiterole or two to Chris), I don't think my Fitbit would be happy with me. Alas, there is no badge for setting a record for fat intake in a day...

So instead I decided to make part of a Gateau St. Honoré -- the profiteroles -- in honour of his feast day. Choux pastry is notoriously finicky, so I prayed to Saint Honoratus before beginning. And then made and baked the pâte á choux. It was easier than expected! I filled a few with some leftover vanilla bean whipped cream that wasn't quite as stiff as it should have been, but was delicious nonetheless. I topped them with some chocolate ganache. 

The result? Delicious!

These are very moreish. I may try filling a few of the choux shells with ice cream on the weekend. Or with pastry cream. Or with chocolate whipped cream. The possibilities are endless!

As for the full Gateau St. Honoré, it will have to wait. But I'm ready for it whenever the opportunity presents itself! In the process of researching recipes I learned that there is a piping tip called St. Honoré, named after Saint Honoratus and used for the famed dessert. Having nothing like it in my piping tip collection, I ordered the tips from Amazon. 

And maybe, on Tuesday, we should all enjoy some good bread from a local bakery.    

A Different Kind of Truffle

As we begin month 5 of this chocolate resolution, it's time to revisit the truffle. Admittedly, I'm going off book with this post (that is, I'm not reading Ewald Notter's The Art of the Chocolatier this week), but I thought it only right to share this off-the-beaten-path chocolate adventure.

I was invited to a theme party this weekend -- Cinco de Mayo and Kentucky Derby combined -- and thought I should bring something chocolate to share. I searched for Mexican desserts and in one of those annoying list-style posts that give you 25+ photos pertaining to your search, each on its own page (click, click, click), I saw brigadeiros.

Now, let's be clear: I know that brigadeiros are a Brazilian dessert. But the idea stuck with me, so I went with it. Close enough geographically, says I (when in reality, it's not that close at all if you look at a map). I digress...

Brigadeiros are similar to truffles in that they are rolled confections, but there's no cream and they are made with cocoa powder instead of chocolate (i.e. with cocoa butter). The primary ingredient is sweetened condensed milk, which develops a caramel (dulce de leche) flavour when cooked. Based on my reading, I understand that the texture of a brigadeiro is more chewy than a ganache truffle (which should be smooth and creamy). 

Now, this is one of those recipes that always scares me a little. You put the ingredients into a pot and cook them on medium to medium high heat until the mixture achieves a fudge-like consistency. When they say you must stir constantly, they mean it -- the risk of ingredients burning is high. So, exhaust fan on bust, lest I set off the smoke detectors and evacuate the building, I began the process of cooking. 

It came together much quicker than expected. The recipe said 10-15 minutes, but by 6 I had reached what I thought was the right consistency. I removed the pot from the heat and immediately scraped the mixture onto a buttered plate to cool. Then I set the mixture, well wrapped, in the fridge for a day, because I read that it is best to roll the brigadeiros in sprinkles on the same day you will eat them so that the sprinkles maintain their crunch. 

Of course, I rolled two small samples. Quality assurance processes are important! To my palate, they needed something. Chris suggested more salt. I agreed and thought about doubling the amount of salt in the recipe if I ever made them again.  

Then the following day, I rolled these truffle-like confections. They mixture was incredibly easy to work with. In no time, 22 of them were lined up like soldiers awaiting their sprinkle coating. Thinking back to the need for more salt, I cracked pink Himalayan salt over them and gave them another quick roll to ensure the salt wouldn't fall off, and then rolled them in sprinkles. While the traditional brigadeiro is rolled in chocolate sprinkles, I also rolled some in multicoloured sprinkles that I had on hand to make them more appropriate for Cinco de Mayo. And then I dropped them in into paper cups to transport to the party.

The result?

As the description stated, they have a chewy texture. It's somewhere between a soft caramel and fudge, but not as sticky. Actually, they remind me of a molasses caramel I made during my professional chocolatier program that gave me a great deal of trouble. It tasted delicious, but it was so soft that the cut caramels slumped into irregular mounds in the 12 hours I left them before enrobing them in chocolate. I had to reform them all before I could complete my assignment! I'm writing this post before going to the party, so here's hoping the briagdeiros don't suffer the same fate!

The caramel notes in these "truffles" come through and the sprinkles give a nice texture contrast. And I think that the flavour has developed since I first tested them. 

Delicious, festive, and fun!

Arriba!