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!

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Using a Chocolate Stencil

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

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

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

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

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

Grade? I'll give myself a B. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That leads me to two thoughts:

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

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

Rest easy, friend. You will be missed.