Cookie Dough Snack Bars

Before shutting down the chocolate factory for summer, I decided to make chocolate bars again. More than a year ago, I made a layered bar with a walnut shortbread cookie and walnut gianduja enrobed in dark chocolate. The flavour was spot on, but I erred in the construction. You see, I baked the cookie layer in a silicone mold and then piped the gianduja on top, but when they were turned out and enrobed, the cookie was on the top instead on the bottom where it should be (or at least where I wanted it to be). Because the mold has slightly rounded cavities, I couldn't just turn the bars upside down to change the orientation (the bar would have a flat top and curved bottom). Well, I suppose I could have and called it avant-garde, but I didn't. And so Take 2. 

Using the same bar mold, I decided to make a chocolate chip cookie layer topped with dark chocolate ganache. After flipping through my chocolate library, I found a recipe for "American cookie dough" bars in Callebaut's 600-page book titled The Chocolatier's Kitchen. It was relatively easy and made just enough to fill the 30-cavity mold I was working with. The recipe was a little strange, though, in its measurements (32.2 grams of egg, for example). I also have no idea how one could possibly pipe the cookie dough into the mold as directed because it was a very thick paste. Nevertheless, nine minutes in the oven and step one was complete. 

Two days later, I made the second layer of the bar. While the Callebaut recipe suggested a vanilla buttercream layer that was fondant based, I decided to instead make a traditional dark chocolate ganache. The recipe I chose was one for slabbing, which I hoped would be firm enough to enable enrobing. When the ganache was prepared, I carefully removed each cookie from the silicone mold. Then I piped ganache into each cavity, filling them about half full. Finally, I inverted the cookies and gently pushed them down into the ganache. Ha! Now the cookies would be on the bottom! Pleased with myself (perhaps overly), I left the ganache to crystallize for 24 hours.

In fact, it was more like 48 hours before I got back to enrobe the bars -- but who's counting? Before beginning, however, I decided to try a technique from my chocolatier training to make it easier to enrobe the bars. Adding a chablon to the bottom of the cookie -- at least in theory -- would ensure the bottom of the bar was fully covered in chocolate (instead of having marks left by the dipping fork) and should result in the bar more easily siding off the dipping fork. I tempered a small amount of chocolate and with a pastry brush painted chocolate across the chocolate chip cookies. (I could have used an offset spatula or some other implement, but this seemed to be the easiest option at the time.)

Once the chablon was in place, I tempered my chocolate for enrobing. Now, it was here that things started to go ever so slightly off the rails -- on a few fronts. When I popped my bars out of the mold, some of the ganache was a little too soft and didn't release cleanly. This occurred in about 20% of the bars, but really was only noticeable in 10% of the finished bars. Thankfully, by dropping them ganache side down into the chocolate and then flipping them with the fork, it wasn't problematic (the fork was on the firm, cookie side of the bar). I also didn't temper enough chocolate the first time and so had to do that process twice. Slightly annoying, but it probably only added about ten minutes to the process.

Where things went very right was in the ease with which the bars slid off the dipping fork onto the wax paper lined tray. Incredible. No sticking. No fighting with the bar trying to get it off the fork. No need for a knife to push the bar off the fork. Just a smooth, controlled slide off the fork. The extra time and effort was definitely worth it. As each one came off the fork, I used the tines to decorate the top of the previous bar. As a result, a much higher proportion of the bars were of a quality I am willing to share. 

While the chocolate crystallized, I decided to try one of the few ugly ducklings with a cup of coffee. To my surprise, the cookie layer really did give the flavour and texture of chocolate chip cookie dough. The short baking time was long enough to make them safe for consumption and short enough to give the appearance of unbaked dough. The chocolate ganache layer, which was indeed softer than I'd anticipated, was a delicious pairing. Definitely an excellent flavour combination. 

A few hours later, I wrapped the bars in foil and applied a label. The astute among you will notice that this is a new design. More on that when next we meet... 

But for now, I have a box of chocolate bars to bring home with me and the factory is closed for the summer. 

Easter Bunny

While inventorying my molds last month, I had the opportunity to look at my Easter bunny trays more closely. It was then that I realized the PET molds were meant to be used to create 3D bunnies. The telltale sign was the combination of mirror-image bunnies and small divots  for alignment on the sides of the mold. 

But to use them that way, they required some surgery.

Now, I tend to be very reluctant to cut apart molds, even when doing so would make the molding process much easier. In fact, I've only done it once and under duress (one piece wouldn't mold evenly without doing so). I certainly wasn't thrilled, then, with the idea of violently cutting apart my bunnies. Nevertheless, armed with a pair of heavy duty scissors, I removed the edge of the mold and then carefully cut apart the bunnies, leaving enough around each shape to enable clipping the two sides together. (This results in some sharp edges, so caution is required when using them.)

I then polished the molds with cotton and alcohol to remove any fingerprints, before tempering some gold cocoa butter. With a new toothbrush and a pastry brush, I channeled Jackson Pollock and decorated the inside of the molds. I then set them aside to crystallize overnight at room temperature.

A day or two latter, I tempered some milk chocolate and poured it into one half of each bunny mold pair. Since the divots in the PET mold don't snap together or even fit snuggly (making their use in alignment more of a suggestion than anything), I lined up the pieces by eye as best I could and then secured them with binder clips. Then I rotated and tapped and rotated and tapped until the chocolate was evenly distributed. I let the chocolate crystallize in the fridge about twice as long as I normally would for bonbons to be certain they would unmold without cracking.

After thirty minutes, I slid a thin knife between the two pieces of plastic and gently worked it around the perimeter. I easily removed the first half of the mold and then with a little gentle encouragement removed the second. And voila! A chocolate Easter bunny! I unmolded the second one. They weighed in 92g and 22g.

You can certainly see the seam where the two pieces of the mold joined, but this is unavoidable when working with a PET mold. The more expensive polycarbonate molds tend to have sharper edges and align more accurately -- and many are held together with built-in magnets. The result is a much more professional finish. 

As for the gold splatter effect, it is reading more yellow than gold, but that still works with the season. It looks good against the milk chocolate finish. And the shine on the bunny confirms a perfect temper. 

It's been a while since I made my own Easter bunny and I intend to enjoy it this morning -- Easter Sunday. 

And later today, I may do a little research on polycarbonate 3D molds for next year.

Must. Resist. Temptation. 

Easter Eggs

In the process of organizing and inventorying my molds earlier this month, I realized that while I had intended to purchase a second polycarbonate Easter egg mold last year so that I could produce 24 pieces at a time, I had in fact never placed the order. I immediately hopped on Amazon and clicked "add to cart." The delivery estimate was a day in April. After Easter. I pulled out a few different egg molds to use instead, including a silicone one.

I also spent a week or so contemplating the flavour for this year. In the past, I've made strawberry, raspberry, peanut butter (one gianduja and one fudge), orange creamsicle, and even cream eggs. This year I was thinking I might try making a strawberry lemonade flavour, but at the end of the day pistachio white chocolate gianduja won out. Pistachio is having a moment, after all, thanks to the Dubai chocolate craze. My hunt for pistachio paste led me to the tiniest jar known to man. It cost $9.99, but at least I was able to buy it locally. Ingredients acquired, I was ready to make Easter eggs just as soon as the spirit moved me. 

Mid-month, I was pleasantly surprised when the mold I had ordered arrived several weeks ahead of schedule. Armed with two polycarbonate Easter egg molds, I decided there was no time like the present and gathered my tools.

I had much more success tempering chocolate using my microwave this time around. No overheating the chocolate for me! I shelled the two molds and let them set. Then I combined equal parts of white chocolate and pistachio paste to create the gianduja centre. My math, however, failed me. The recipe I reviewed said that 500g would fill 92 standard size bonbons. That's about 5.4g per piece, which meant that 300g should fill 55. Now, eggs are larger than standard bonbons, but there were only 24 of them, so I thought that should be enough to fill the eggs without having leftovers. Alas, I filled 19 eggs and was left with 5 empty shells. I decided to make 100g of peanut dark chocolate gianduja with the idea that I would keep these alternatives for any recipients who didn't like pistachios. I left them to crystallize overnight.

The following day, I used a chalk marker to write on the side of the mold so that I would know which eggs were peanut and which were pistachio. I tempered 300g of dark chocolate to cap the eggs and once they were set I prepared to unmold them. I started with the mold that only contained pistachio centres. Clearly I nailed the temper, because before I had fully inverted the mold, the eggs toppled out onto the tray. Luckily, none cracked. I pushed them aside. Not wanting a repeat, because that would make it impossible to know which eggs were peanut, I placed a cutting board over the second mold and inverted it. I then very carefully transferred the eggs, keeping the five peanut ones separate from the rest. Time will tell if my method actually worked!

The final step was to wrap them in foil. Naturally, I went with different colours to identify different centres. Dark blue for peanut and purple or light blue for pistachio. They look great! 

I have to say that I feel much better about the production of these eggs than I did about my assortments at Christmas. Maybe it's because I had more time, or because I know my microwave better now, or because I was in a very Zen space this time, but the tempering went smoothly, I was able to work very cleanly, and the eggs unmolded without any effort. A very successful production run!

And I can't wait to taste one on Easter Sunday.

Organizing Molds

My chocolate and candy molds have always been organized in a chaotic fashion. They are awkward to store because of their different shapes, sizes, and materials. And even when I purchased a piece of furniture in which to store them, I never managed to corral them all into the same place. Consequently, it was very easy to forget what I had.

When I moved about six months ago, they were all packed into boxes with a generic label and no sense of order. They were deposited in my basement and placed on the shelf of a baker's rack. While I love having space to store them without seeing them daily, I knew I needed to make it easier to find what I want when I want it. And as the old year transitioned into the new, I made a note to organize my chocolate and candy molds in 2026. 

And so about three weeks ago, I took the last of my vacation days for the 2025-26 year. I didn't sleep in. Instead, I was up with the birds as usual. After breakfast, I drove to Canadian Tire to purchase a folding table and then once it was set up in my basement, I put every mold I own on it. As I sorted and sifted, it became clear that the easiest way to organize them was to separate them into boxes by material -- polycarbonate, PET, and silicone. 

Polycarbonate molds are professional grade and made of a rigid plastic. They give chocolates a beautiful finish and tend to be more expensive. I purchased my first two when I did my professional chocolatier program and have been slowly collecting them since. For these, I have been restricting myself to classic shapes rather than novelties -- the diamond dome, the half sphere, the peanut butter cup, an Easter egg, etc. About two years ago, I concluded that based on my current production scale, I need two of each, which allows me in most cases to produce 42 of the same chocolate at once. 

PET molds are made of a lighter plastic and are usually much less expensive. While they result in a better finish than silicone molds, they seem to be prone to marring during the unmolding process resulting in an imperfect finish. They more commonly are novelty shapes -- Garfield lollipops, awareness ribbons, giant pills, hockey pucks, etc. For the vast majority of these, I own only one of each mold (unintentional exceptions are an Easter bunny mold and a Valentine's pour box).

Silicone molds, of course, have become increasingly popular and are generally inexpensive (unless you order a custom one like my oyster mold). They can produce greater detail and are easier to release because you can peel them from the chocolate, but they are very difficult to work with. For example, unless you want a colossal mess to clean up, shelling has to be done by painting each well with a pastry brush. Consequently, they are better suited to solid pieces. I have molds for penguins, Christmas lights, bats, pumpkins, gummy bears, etc. 

As I sifted through the molds, it occurred to me that sorting by material wasn't good enough. It would be much better to have an inventory of all of the molds. Go big or go home, right? Before I knew it, I had a laptop in front of me and was typing into a spreadsheet. I recorded the shape, the type (hollow, 3D, 3-part), the material, and the maker or source if I knew it. I also noted how many I had, how many pieces each one made, and in which box they were located. Three hours later, I was done. 

In case you're wondering, it turns out that I have 94 distinct molds and 115 in total. Being able to search the inventory quickly will surely make life easier. The first test of the system occurred just a week after completing it, when I wanted molds for Easter eggs. It was quick and easy to choose and locate the right mold for the job -- and there was no mountain of molds to manage and eventually dodge when they inevitably collapse around (or on) me. 

And you know what that means... Production of Easter eggs is just around the corner!  

Peppermint Patty Showdown

Before Christmas, I stumbled upon a box of Ganong Pepts at a discount store. I hadn't seen them in years, so naturally I had to buy them. And then during Christmas, I received a package of Waterbridge Mint Creams and York Peppermint Patties. The logical next step? A peppermint patty showdown. 

All three contenders use dark chocolate and all three contain real chocolate to greater and lesser degrees. Both the Waterbridge and the York brands employ peppermint oil to flavour the fondant centre, while the Ganong does not specify beyond "natural and artificial flavour." The Waterbridge and Ganong patties are the same size, and the York is slightly larger. On the surface, they all look the part. 

Up first: Waterbridge. $1.97 for 90g. The chocolate enrobing the centre is thicker than expected (particularly on the top of the patty) and provides a little resistance as you bite through it. The peppermint is present, but not overpowering. The flavour and cooling effect linger for several minutes after eating. A solid peppermint patty. 

Next: Ganong. $1.25 for 100g. The outer shell is thinner than the Waterbridge, giving way to the centre easily. It is also visibly a shade lighter than the dark chocolate shells of the Waterbridge and York -- and you can taste that when you eat it. It's certainly not milk chocolate, but it isn't as dark as the Waterbridge. The cream inside is softer than the Waterbridge and the peppermint is very mild. The flavour and cooling effect dissipate relatively quickly. For mouthfeel, an excellent peppermint patty.  

Finally: York. $3.28 for 136g. The outer shell is very thin with no resistance when biting into the patty. The peppermint fondant is the firmest and thickest of the three -- more chewy than gooey (almost crystallized like fudge). The peppermint flavour is the strongest of the three, aided partly by the fact that there's just more cream in the York patty than the others. The flavour and cooling effect have a very short finish compared to the Waterbridge. An average but unremarkable peppermint patty.

And the winner is...

L: Waterbridge. C: Ganong. R: York.

In my opinion, Ganong takes the prize both for mouthfeel and flavour. The thin, slightly lighter dark chocolate shell combined with the creamy gooey centre is delicious. The Waterbridge is a close second. The York comes in last, primarily because of the chocolate to fondant ratio, which just seems off, and the firmer texture. 

Do you have a favourite? 

  

Shipping Woes

I don't normally ship my confections. Sure, I've done it on a few occasions, but there's a lot that can go wrong. And the cost to ship small packages is exorbitant. But this year, if I wanted my family to have a box of chocolates for Christmas, I had no other choice. 

The first challenge in shipping chocolate is making sure that the individual pieces do not move around in their box. Step one is packing them tightly. Sometimes this results in more chocolate than intended (or paid for) because the box has been stuffed to prevent lateral movement. My four pieces were fairly snug thanks to the polar bear paws, which took up more space. 

Step two is adding candy pads to protect the surface of the chocolate and cushion it from impact. While most boxes of chocolates have one insert, many chocolatiers will double up if they know a box will be shipped. Because I've never shipped my chocolates before, I don't have any padding. My solution was to steal a pad from a box of Lindt chocolates at work. I cut it into squares that would fit my ballotin boxes and placed one under the chocolates and one on top of the chocolates. The boxes were pretty snug as I closed the tops and sealed them with stickers. 

Then I undertook the challenge of packing the assortments into a shipping box. Knowing how expensive it can be to mail small packages, which are charged by both size and weight, I chose to purchase a flat rate box because at least then there wouldn't be any heart-stopping surprises at the cash. The extra small box from Canada Post was sufficient and cost $18.99+tx. I packed it as tightly as possible so that there was no movement inside, employing skills honed through hundreds (maybe thousands?) of hours playing Tetris as a teenager and university student. The assortment boxes went in first and then around them I added a few small gifts, a few Ooey Gooeys from Cape Breton Fudge Company, a jar of Christmas jam from a local Christmas craft fair, and a few pieces of salt water taffy. To make everything even tighter, I added a few greeting cards and some tissue paper. Once I was confident nothing would move inside the box, I sealed it. 

Beyond the physical damage from movement, the biggest enemy of chocolate is heat. For this reason, many chocolate shops require customers to purchase cold packs for their shipments to ensure the chocolate doesn't get too warm and melt in transit. They are certainly mandatory when shipping between April and October. In the winter, however, you can usually get away without adding them (at least in Canada). I decided I would take the chance. (I'm not sure there is any cold pack that could last long enough for a box handled by Canada Post anyway...)

The shipping method I chose had a delivery standard of 5 days. I dropped the box off on December 4th and began tracking its journey. For the life of me, I will never understand why packages must travel hundreds of kilometers west only to turn around and return almost to their point of origin before continuing east. But I watched the package move through time and space before checking in at a depot in Dieppe. From there the shipping delays began. Thanks to weather conditions, I'm pretty sure that the package sat for about a week at the Marine Atlantic ferry terminal. By about day 13, I began to worry that the package would never reach its destination, but on day 15, it was finally delivered to my family.

Thankfully, it appears the chocolate survived shipping. There was no damage to the package and my mother confirmed that the chocolates all appeared to be fine. 

If this is to become an annual event, though, I'm going to need to purchase additional packing materials.  

The 2025 Assortment

The time has come to unveil this year's four-piece assortment!

It includes:

Toffee Cup - Toffee pieces mixed into milk chocolate. It replaces the traditional nut cup.

Polar Bear Paw - Macademia nut "turtle" enrobed in white chocolate. It replaces the traditional salted caramel. 

Wild Blueberry Truffle - A silky dark chocolate truffle made with Newfoundland blueberries.

Sunbutter Swirl - Sunflower seed gianduja in a dark chocolate shell.

Each recipe made between 42 and 53 pieces, so I packaged 42 boxes of chocolates and have a few left over to enjoy over the holidays. 

I'm not going to lie, this year's production run was a bit of a challenge. It was glorious to make chocolate in my new kitchen, which has much more space. As a result, it's very easy to set up stations and move through the process seamlessly instead of moving between a kitchen, a dining room, and a living room. But it took longer than I care to admit for me to adjust to the power of my new microwave, which I use to melt chocolate when working in small batches. 

And two pieces didn't quite turn out as I'd imagined. I think the polar bear paw flavour is dead on. The toasted macademia nuts are absolutely delicious and a great variation on the "turtle" chocolate theme. My caramel, however, is just a shade firmer than I'd like. It's still good -- just not gooey. On the truffle front, it was a challenge to get a robust blueberry flavour, I suspect because the dark chocolate overpowered it. In the future, I would either use white chocolate for the ganache with a dark chocolate shell or I would pulverize freeze dried blueberries and roll the truffle in them to bolster the flavour. This sort of thing is bound to happen when developing recipes, so I'll make notes in my master recipe binder and try them again sometime. 

All of this is a matter of personal preference, of course. I've had several people tell me the polar bear paw was their favourite, while others appreciated that the truffle wasn't more fruit-forward. Chacun à son gout!

I had hoped for an update to my packaging this year, but that didn't quite work out as planned (a story for another blog). That will be a project for 2026. 

For now, I have a few more boxes of chocolate to deliver.

I Ran Out of Chocolate

This week, I made the final piece for the four-piece assortment -- a truffle. It required dark chocolate, for both the ganache and the shell. As I measured out 350g for the ganache, I was surprised that it took the entire bag of leftover chocolate pieces from the week before. I glanced at the callets left in my Cambro container and had a moment of concern before proceeding. I'd never run out of chocolate before. Surely I wouldn't this time...

I prepared the ganache and let it sit for about 90 minutes before scooping the truffles. Once the chocolate had crystallized a little more, I refined the shape into spheres. While they chilled in the fridge, I turned to tempering the chocolate for the hand-rolled shell. This is when panic set in.

I knew I'd need to coat all 50+ truffles twice. I also knew that the more chocolate you temper, the longer your working time is. I figured I'd need about 400-500g to accomplish the task. I had 350g. There was a good chance that I could make it work if I had to, but it meant that there was no room for error. If the chocolate wasn't perfectly tempered, I wouldn't have any chocolate remaining to fix it by seeding. I started contemplating workarounds and concluded that I could always add milk chocolate to the dark if necessary. It wouldn't be ideal, but it was an option in the worst case scenario.  I took a deep breath and told myself to be patient. 

And so I started. Heating and stirring, heating and stirring. When I thought I had the chocolate at the right temperature, I tested it with parchment paper. While waiting for the results, I continued stirring the chocolate. Uncertain if the first test was going to successfully set, I tested the chocolate a second time to confirm it was indeed in temper. It was was ready for coating. 

Armed with a pair of latex gloves, I put a small amount of chocolate on my fingers and rolled each truffle by hand. In the past, I've gotten impatient or tired going through this process, so I kept telling myself to keep it a small amount of chocolate and do 3 truffles before adding more chocolate. After the first coat was done, I repeated the process, this time doing 2 truffles at a time. As I progressed, my upper back started to hurt and I slowed down. By the time I was coating the last five truffles, the chocolate remaining in my bowl was rapidly solidifying. I was out of time.

I moved the two trays of truffles into the fridge for 5 minutes to help the crystallization process along. And after that, I popped them into paper cups so that they would be ready for packaging. 

While I managed to finish the fourth piece for this year's assortment, I still had a few more seasonal chocolate projects to complete. I had run out of chocolate -- not milk or white, but dark -- and on the day after all of the Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales ended. Of all the luck! I checked each supplier I could think of. All of them had raised their prices again and their offers of free shipping were just a memory. Not only would the price be exorbitant, but it would take at least a week or more to receive the shipment. 

As a final Hail Mary, I checked Costco. When I looked at their site last week, they only had milk chocolate callets available. Much to my surprise, the 811 formulation was suddenly available. I added it to my cart and checked the shipping estimate. It would arrive within a few days. Naturally, I checked out as quickly as possible. 

So production at the chocolate factory was temporarily paused. The weather on Thursday and Friday delayed the delivery, but UPS came through and a 5lb box of chocolate appeared on my front step on Saturday. 

Costco has saved Christmas! 

Chocolate Paradox

I planned on Wednesday night to produce the third piece for this year's assortment. I did not plan to engage in battle with the chocolate I was using. As Ella Fitzgerald sang in "But Not for Me," it all began so well... 

I had two brand new molds prepared for shelling with dark chocolate. I used the direct tempering method and tested the temper with a piece of parchment. Seeing the chocolate begin to solidify after two minutes, I decided to proceed. I filled, tapped, inverted, tapped, and scraped -- and was particularly pleased with how cleanly I had completed the task. But after the molds took a short rest in the refrigerator, I discovered something very strange: the chocolate in one tray was in perfect temper, shiny and set, while the chocolate in the other was covered in speckles -- a clear indication that it was not in temper. Strangely, though, the seemingly untempered shells could easily be released from the mold when normally they would stick. 

Somehow, the chocolate was both tempered and not tempered at the same time. 

Not only was I utterly baffled by the situation, but I became very annoyed with myself. As tempting as it was to proceed, I knew that I had to backtrack and re-shell the offending mold. If not, I would be reluctant to use those pieces in an assortment or to serve them to guests. 

Before proceeding, I paused to reflect on what had gone wrong. I was using the same chocolate, the same tools, the same method. Logically, I should have achieved the same results. And then it hit me: I was using a different microwave to melt the chocolate. And that microwave is more powerful than my old one (which is enjoying early retirement in Newfoundland now). 

I cursed. Aloud. And pulled each of the 21 shells from the mold. Then I tempered a new batch of chocolate and repeated the shelling procedure.

This little misstep was, thankfully, easily resolved because the issue was discovered before the chocolates had been filled. If it had been discovered after they were filled, then I would have had 21 "seconds" on my hands. While I'm sure no one would complain about having to help "dispose" of chocolate (especially since it would taste exactly the same), it would have been unfortunate given the exorbitant price of chocolate these days thanks to climate disasters, tariffs, and other factors. While I saved the chocolate, I lost about an hour of my Wednesday evening if you count the time spent troubleshooting, tempering, cooling, and verifying. 

I'm happy to say that the rest of the process went as expected. Actually, better than expected. I think this was the best capping job I've done to date! And I attribute that to a new tool -- a spatula from Temu of all places. I saw it online about a month ago while trying to find something to add to my cart so that I met the minimum order threshold for free shipping. It was only about $3 so I didn't have high expectations, but I did think having a second spatula could be helpful when working on two molds at once. WELL! This thing is incredible! It's more flexible than the other one I have and that somehow makes it easier to complete the capping process. Maybe it's the angle? Maybe it's better control? Whatever it is, I am going to have to get another the next time I place an order. 

That's three flavours down and one more to go before this year's assortment is unveiled!

Chipping Chocolate

Usually when I'm working with chocolate, I choose to start with callets. That's a fancy name for small disc-shaped chocolate pieces. They are relatively easy to work with, particularly if using the seeding method of tempering, and they are better suited to small production runs. In contrast, larger facilities with high-capacity melters and tempering machines are more likely to purchase chocolate in 5kg slabs. These slabs are like a giant chocolate bar, with "breakaway" blocks of about 500g each. In practice, of course, you'd need a pickaxe or a table saw to separate them. 

Last Christmas, I was surprised to find these blocks of Callebaut chocolate in the bakery section of a local grocery store. Individually wrapped, the 454g pieces were selling for somewhere in the vicinity of $23. As time and Christmas passed, they were slowly marked down. Having just ordered 2.5kg of milk and 2.5kg of dark chocolate from my supplier, I wasn't particularly interested in these bricks of chocolate, knowing they would be difficult to work with. When they finally hit about $8 each, though, I decided I would be foolish not to purchase something given the increasing cost of chocolate as a result of extreme weather conditions impacting cacao harvests. So, I picked up one of the white chocolate blocks. And then the following week, another. 

Fast forward to this week, when I was working on the second piece for my four-piece assortment. It required white chocolate. I pulled out the brick and assessed my options. I could attempt to grate the chocolate, but the heat from my hand may take it out of temper in the process. It would also be the messier of the options. Alternatively, I could use a serrated knife to shave the chocolate, but when I've tried that in the past the knife wasn't particularly easy to control. And so I found myself hiking downstairs and opening a box of chocolate implements to locate my weapon of choice: an ice pick. 

When I was enrolled in the professional chocolatier program, one of the items on our materials list was a chocolate chipping tool. I drove out to the local restaurant supply and asked if they had one. They didn't, but they had an ice pick and led me to it. I dutifully purchased it like any keener would when going back to school shopping, but as I recall I only used it once. On Wednesday evening, however, its moment to shine had arrived.

Slowly but surely, I chipped away at the white chocolate brick while roasting nuts. Since I had the oven timer on, I can confidently tell you that it took me about 8 minutes to fully chip one pound of chocolate. Satisfied with my work, I proceeded with tempering the chocolate and preparing 50 pieces of what I hope will be a delicious addition to this year's assortment.

The ice pick was certainly the right tool for the job. Efficient, easy to use, relatively neat. 

Of course, every time I looked at the pile of chocolate pieces in front of me, all I could think of was how delicious those chunks would be in a chocolate chip cookie. There's about 185g left, so perhaps next weekend, I'll test my theory. 

Reopening the Chocolate Factory

It's that time of year again! After a six-month hiatus, this week I dusted off my tools and molds and began work on this year's assortment. 

The planning for the assortment began about two weeks ago, when I wrote a shortlist of possible flavour combinations. Having kept notes on inspiration throughout the year, it was easy for me to pull together eight options. More challenging was whittling that list down to four. As I've written before, my goal in preparing any assortment is to achieve a variety of flavours, textures, types of chocolate, and techniques. This means in practical terms that even though I may really want to make a particular item, I won't if it doesn't work in the context of the assortment. (For example, I wouldn't do two truffles in a four-piece box.) The keeping limit for each piece is also a factor. The pieces that have longer keeping limits -- like caramels and solid pieces -- can be produced in November, while those with shorter keeping limits -- like truffles -- aren't produced until early December to ensure freshness and safety. I usually aim to produce four different pieces in four weeks or less. 

Armed with my plan (to be revealed next month) and a vague idea for which would be molded and which would be hand rolled or dipped, about a week ago I went in search of appropriate molds. This task was complicated by the fact that I recently moved and all of my chocolatiering tools and materials  are still in files boxes. I removed the lids and quickly scanned through them, plucking one mold out of my collection. I also made a mental note that as a winter project, I will need to sort, organize, and inventory my molds before transferring them into a more permanent storage solution. 

Next I checked on my packaging and, in particular, the stickers I use to close boxes. Finding only one sheet remaining, I placed an order with Vistaprint to ensure I had enough, not yet knowing how many boxes I would target for production this year. (Unfortunately, when the new stickers arrived the quality was poor, so I had to reorder them. Fingers crossed the next set will be better!)

As for how many boxes I'll make this year, I haven't yet decided. For the last two years, I've increased my production with the intent of selling a few boxes. Both times, my plans were foiled -- first when poor weather led to a sudden change in travel plans and second when a postal strike shut down affordable shipping options. One does wonder if the universe is trying to tell me something. 🤔 For now, I will probably just make enough to give as gifts. 

My next task was to order chocolate. Now, I already have white, milk, and dark chocolate on hand thanks to a strategic purchase at the end of last year (made knowing the price of chocolate was going to rise again). But with a plan to riff on Greweling's Madagascar marbles as this year's truffle, I was going to require one more chocolate type. His recipe calls for dark chocolate and white chocolate ganache piped one on top of the other and I had the idea to use dark chocolate and either gold or ruby chocolate. Unfortunately, after checking all of my usual suppliers -- and a few new ones -- I came to the conclusion that I would have to rethink my plan. Callebaut's Ruby callets are currently retailing for $80/kg! The prices for Callebaut Gold aren't much better. As much as I would love to work with one of these, it doesn't seem like the right time or the right project given the cost. 

And so I went back to the drawing board and ultimately changed the truffle to a new flavour and technique. While reviewing how the four flavours would present together, I also decided to change one of the molds I had intended to use. With all of this firmly set in stone, I was able to prepare a production schedule and make a shopping list. 

And that means that, as of the date of this blog post, the chocolate factory has reopened for 2025.  

Note: Factory image produced with the assistance of Copilot.

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!