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!

Raspberry Easter Eggs

Over the years, I've made many different Easter eggs. Peanut butter fudge, Cadbury creme egg dupes, strawberry cream, orange creamsicle, Oreo cookie, potato chip, Rice Krispies, peanut gianduja... They've all been delicious and it would be easy to just pick one and repeat it (especially a peanut butter one). But Tuesday night chocolate study and this blog aren't about what's easy! They're about trying new things and learning in the process. And so as much as I'd like to be making myself a gianduja bunny again, this year's Easter eggs will instead have a dark chocolate raspberry ganache filling.

Now, I've experimented with ganache a fair amount, particularly with alcohol as the flavouring. Beer, cider, port wine, Cointreau, brandy... I've also made a variety of truffles flavoured with oils (peppermint, orange, key lime, lemon, strawberry), and even a few that used pulverized freeze-dried fruit. But I can't recall making a truffle with fruit puree (though I certainly used fruit purees in buttercream frosting when I was doing more cake decorating).

In preparation for my Tuesday night chocolate study, I reviewed a number of recipes. I settled on a recipe in the Ewald Notter book The Art of the Chocolatier as a base recipe upon which I would riff. And that meant I needed to make raspberry puree.

I started with half a bag of frozen raspberries, tossed them into a pot with about 20 grams of sugar, and heated and stirred until they started to break down and become liquid. Then I pureed them and strained out the seeds, first with a mesh strainer and then with multiple layers of cheese cloth. Neither was particularly efficacious. After significant effort (and mess), I had about 120 grams of puree. I set it in the fridge and called it a night.

The next day, I prepared the ganache. Based on the quantities outlined in the Notter book, I decided to half the recipe. I have to admit, I was a little bit nervous making this ganache. I've never added lemon juice to chocolate and I worried that it might break or seize. Presumably the addition of lemon juice was meant to enhance the flavour of the raspberry puree, so once the ganache was a beautiful emulsion, I took a deep breath and added the acid to the mixture. The gods favoured me and the ganache didn't split. And the resulting flavour was incredible.

Sadly, the gods didn't favour me for long. I'm not sure if the chocolate I was using as seed was itself out of temper or (more likely) if I was impatient and rushed the process, but my first attempt at shelling was a failure. I knew when I took the mold out of the fridge that the chocolate was not in temper. So I started over. I wasn't present the first time around, but I was hyper-focused the second time and it worked as expected. 

Next I filled the shells and set the mold aside to crystallize before proceeding with capping the following day. When I tapped out the finished eggs, I had one casualty, which cracked coming out of the mold. The rest were perfect. 

As I write this, a week later, I am in the process of doing it all over again so that I will hopefully have 23 eggs in total to share with friends. The molds are shelled and filled, and tomorrow night before a museum board meeting, I hope to cap them.

Now, about that casualty. I did not discard it. Nay, I uncharacteristically ate it. (If you've been reading these blogs long enough, you know that I don't normally sample the finished product so soon after it's been made). What can I say about these eggs? They are incredible. The raspberry flavour is intense. The pairing with dark chocolate is ideal, ensuring the eggs aren't overly sweet. While I'm not a huge lover of raspberry, I would definitely make these again. I'm thrilled with how they turned out and can't wait to share them with family and friends.

Yes, I said family. I don't normally mail chocolate home, but my sister's birthday is coming up and there is a Canada Post flat rate box headed her way. Conveniently, there's a little room left in it for three Easter eggs. Hopefully she and my parents will enjoy them (though I'm guessing they won't survive until Easter Sunday). 

This experiment definitely has me wanting to try additional chocolate and fruit puree pairings. I'm curious: What fruit and chocolate pairing would you use in an Easter egg? 

Compound vs Real Chocolate

Much of the commercial chocolate that we consume isn't actually chocolate. In many cases, it's compound chocolate -- a product that generally contains cocoa, but does not contain cocoa butter. If you don't see cocoa butter listed as an ingredient, then it's not "real" chocolate. Of course, there are also confectionary coatings that don't have any component of chocolate in them -- candy melts fall into this category.  

There are some good reasons for swapping out the cocoa butter for an alternative fat (like palm kernel oil). For one thing, cocoa butter is polymorphic, which means that it can take on different structures and thus display different characteristics. Chocolate's ideal structure is beta-5, which is its most stable form. It is achieved through the tempering process and results in the smooth, glossy surface and snappy solid form that we seek in well-made chocolate. When chocolate is not in perfect temper and takes on one of the other structures, the texture, appearance, and mouthfeel are affected. It may be soft or crumbly, or have a dull, grey, or mottled appearance. Compound chocolate, however, doesn't require tempering. It also has a higher melting point than real chocolate, which means it is less likely to melt with handling and can remain stable in warmer conditions. Coating "chocolate" can also be purchased readily in a variety of colours, whereas real chocolate usually has to be coloured by the user (who may add oil-based food colouring or laminate chocolate to a coloured cocoa butter layer). And, finally, compound chocolate is cheaper because it doesn't include cocoa butter. 

Consequently, compound chocolate (or confectionary coating or candy coating or candy melts) is a good option for beginners, for food crafting with children, for large batch/mass production of treats, etc. 

So why am I thinking about this right now as a professional chocolatier when normally I would emphasize the need for only the best couverture chocolate? 

I have an idea for a Christmas present to give to friends this year. It's more about the form (a cute piece molded and assembled from chocolate) and less about the formula (it won't be a layered bonbon or a carefully crafted truffle or other elaborate flavour experiment). Nevertheless, at the end of the day, the item is still meant to be eaten. It would be easier to use compound chocolate to avoid the tempering process, improve ease of storage, and create colourful, displayable, Instagram-worthy treats. But the chocolate won't taste as good as Callebaut. 

The question is, Does that matter?

I know a few people who don't mind candy melts, either as a colourful bark or as coating for cookies. They like the sweeter profile. They likely realize it isn't "real" chocolate, but they appreciate it in various applications despite that. (Personally, I don't mind candy melts, but I definitely notice the difference...) But we've also all had the experience of buying (or receiving) cheap chocolate from a dollar, discount, or grocery store, with its waxy texture or dull flavour -- and it can be very disappointing when the expectation and the reality don't match. 

Does food crafting make the use of "fake" chocolate more acceptable? Or should we be striving to emulate the chocolate genius of Amaury Guichon? Vote and comment below! 

Thanks for voting!

Climate Change and Chocolate

With a title like "Climate Change and Chocolate," you might expect this blog to be about the growing and fermentation conditions for cacao -- and that would be an interesting post, I'm sure. But tonight, knowing that vacation is nearing, my reflections are much closer to home. Since doing my professional chocolatier program in 2018, I have noticed the impact of hotter summers in my apartment, not only because of the impact on my own personal temperament, but also the temper of my chocolate.

Chocolate is sensitive to heat. Consequently, during summer in Canada, shipping chocolate becomes more complicated, requiring more expensive two-day shipping and the inclusion of ice packs to ensure it doesn't melt. While chocolate that has melted is still perfectly edible, when it re-solidifies, it is no longer in the ideal crystal structure and so is no longer "in temper." It will likely lose its snap and develop bloom. To avoid the additional shipping expenses, I tend to order my chocolate for the year in February before shipping restrictions come into play. While I don't keep a massive supply of chocolate on hand, it wouldn't be uncommon for me to have between 15 and 20 pounds at any given time.  

Now, in previous years, this wasn't an issue. The building I live in doesn't have central air conditioning. To cool my apartment, I have developed a system of opening windows at night to cool off my apartment and then closing them during the day to try to keep the heat and humidity out. I have three fans that I prop in the windows to facilitate air flow. And using this method, I have generally been able to keep the temperature in a safe zone for chocolate and my temper. That is, until last year.

Last summer, I struggled to manage the heat in my apartment and for the first time ever, the temperature rose above 26 degrees Celcius. In fact, I installed a portable air conditioner and MacGyvered a way to connect it to my bedroom window, which cranks open at the bottom. It's not practical, however, to run one of these units night and day throughout summer, so it couldn't solve the issue of chocolate storage. Finally I gave in and did the thing you shouldn't do: I put the chocolate in my fridge. 

A fridge is not an ideal storage location for chocolate. First, it is too cold. Chocolate is best stored between 16 and 18 degrees, and it tastes best between 12 and 20 degrees -- which is why you should always let it come to room temperature before eating it if you have refrigerated it. Second, there is too much humidity in a fridge, which can lead to bloom. Chocolate with bloom is still edible, but not particularly attractive. And third, chocolate stored in a fridge could lose its flavour and/or pick up smells from other items. When you store your chocolate in the fridge, then, you flirt with danger! But, for me, its better to wrap it properly and store it in the fridge than to leave it out and potentially have it come out of temper. (The chocolate, of course, could be re-tempered, but for small production without a tempering machine, it's easier to start with tempered chocolate that can be used for seeding. The chocolate could also be used in other applications, like ganache truffles.)

I don't anticipate that the summers will get any cooler; rather, I expect that they will only get hotter as time goes on. And so as I shut down chocolate production for the summer and prepare to go on vacation, preparing my chocolate for storage is mission critical. If the chocolate were still in an unopened Callebaut bag, then I would put that inside an airtight container or bag and put it directly in the fridge. But because my chocolate has already been opened, I emptied the bags into airtight containers (Carlisle 6 quart) and then, as a backup, wrapped that in a plastic bag. Then I put them in the very back of the fridge, on the bottom shelf. It takes up a lot of real estate in there, but it's a necessary evil.

[The other option, of course, would be to purchase a wine fridge and set it to 16 degrees. Believe me, I've thought about it! But I'm already running short on space in my apartment, so I'm not sure exactly where I could put it.]

And with the installation of the chocolate in my fridge, the chocolate factory is closed until September. But the chocolate adventures will continue, for while I may not be able to work with chocolate, I certainly can taste it and study it.