Cakegirl and Chocolate: A Love Story

It’s so chic to love chocolate. There are stores and festivals and magazines and countless websites devoted to the fruit of the cacao tree. People love to talk about their preferred chocolate in terms of percentages—“Oh, I only eat seventy-two Asante single origin. Anything else is too sweet. And don’t get me started on milk chocolate!” They think it makes them sounds more knowledgeable, so sophisticated, so gourmet.

I say, who gives a rat's ass? Just shut up and eat it...it’s all good.

Growing up, I thought there must be something strange about how much I loved chocolate. (Remember, this was in the sixties and seventies, before Scharffen Berger was a household name or even invented yet.) I mean, I really loved it. The chocolate pudding that my mother would prepare (from a box, and delicious) on cold mornings and serve hot, calling it chocolate soup; the waffles, ice cream and hot fudge that we would have for dinner on an occasional Sunday; the Hershey’s Golden Almond Bars that my father would bring home from work—all of this fueled my passion and yet somehow made me feel a bit ashamed, as though my love for chocolate was, well, abnormal somehow. The fact that the rest of my family seemed to share this passion (though as is often the case with dark family secrets we never talked about it) did little to comfort me and make me feel that it was normal.

What did make me feel better eventually was the newsletter that my father received in the eighties called Chocolate News. Printed on cocoa-brown paper and scented with chocolate, this newsletter was chock-filled with all things chocolate--recipes, taste tests, new product information, interviews, and photos. "At last!" I thought happily. "There are others out there like me!" (Remember, this was in the days before the Internet made it a snap to find like-minded folks.) Chocolate News was followed by Chocolatier magazine, and it wasn't too long before a whole chocolate culture sprang up, thanks to people like Jacques Torres (aka Mr. Chocolate), Alice Medrich (aka The First Lady of Chocolate), and Messrs. Scarffenberger and Steinberg of the aforementioned Scharffen Berger fame. Adoring chocolate had become mainstream and I could no longer think of myself as unusual and offbeat, at least as far as chocolate was concerned.

So I could write reams about how wonderful chocolate is and how much it has changed my life. But I won't. I will, however, share some of my favorite chocolate indulgences with you, so that you will see that far from being a chocolate snob, I am wide-reaching in my appreciation.

A few of my favorite chocolate things:

See's Chocolates. My absolutely all-time favorite box chocolates. Not tea-infused, chile-spiked, lemon-verbena-filled bonbons, but good old-fashioned nut- and caramel-filled milk and dark chocolates. They are only sold in shops in the Western U.S. or on line, but I'm happy to order them over the Internet, especially since you can assemble your own box of favorite chocolates. No more poking the bottom of the chocolates to make sure you didn't get the jelly-filled one!

Green and Black Milk Chocolate with Toffee. Really good milk chocolate with bits of burnt-sugar goodness. A few squares of this after dinner is pretty much all I need to make my day complete.

Thick European-style hot chocolate. I first had this at the world-famous Angelina Cafe in Paris and was instantly hooked. It's like drinking hot chocolate pudding (just like the chocolate soup my mom used to make--comfort food at its best). Nowadays I get my fix at City Bakery, where a tiny "shot" is usually all I need, or at Jacque Torres, where you can get the Wicked Hot Chocolate, which packs some spicy heat. Nothing is better or more satisfying on a cold winter day, though I could be convinced to drink it any time of the year.

Hershey's Chocolate Bar. Yes, I know it's so declasse to love Hershey's but I do, as do many Americans--it's what we grew up on. Everyone else in the world turns their noses up, but sometimes a Hershey bar really satisfies a craving--it's cheap, dependable, and available literally everywhere you go in this country.

And finally, my two favorite ways to indulge:

A really good, moist, old-fashioned chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. So much harder to find than it would seem. There are millions of variations out there and people are always telling me where to find "the best." I suppose most pastry chefs think their chocolate cake is THE BEST, and I am no exception. I always feel somehow complete when I have a big old devil's food cake sitting under the cake dome in my kitchen. Best accompaniment: a glass of ice-cold milk and a napkin to wipe the frosting off your upper lip.

Hot fudge. Chocolate at its simplest and most sublime. Again, most people think they know where to find the best, or they have the best recipe...but once again I win this, hands down. And finally I will include a recipe in this blog, which only seems appropriate. This is from baking and chocolate maven Maida Heatter. Needless to say, it's fantastic on ice cream but I have been known to simply eat it straight from the jar.

The World's Best Hot Fudge Sauce (from Maida Heatter' Book of Great Chocolate Desserts)

1/2 cup heavy cream
3 Tbsp sweet butter, cut into small pieces
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup dark brown sugar, firmly packed
pinch of salt
1/2 cup strained or sifted Dutch-process cocoa powder (don't substitute - it must be Dutch process for the right color and flavor. And don't skip the straining or sifting--if the cocoa is lumpy your sauce will be lumpy.)

Place the cream and butter in a heavy 1-quart saucepan over moderate heat. Stir until the butter is melted and the cream just comes to a low boil. Add both sugars and stir for a few minutes until they are dissolved. (The surest test is to taste; cook and taste until you do not feel any undissolved granules in your mouth.)

Reduce the heat. Add the salt and cocoa and stir briskly with a small wire whisk until smooth. (If the sauce is not smooth - if there are any small lumps of undissolved cocoa- press against them, and stir well, with a rubber spatula.) Remove from the heat.

Serve immediately or pour into a straight-sided glass jar to cover and store in the refrigerator. To reheat slowly, spoon the sauce into the top of a double boiler over hot water, or in a heavy saucepan over the lowest heat. I usually just place the glass jar in the microwave and heat at 15-second intervals, stirring in between, until hot.

Pour on ice cream or eat with a spoon. Sigh.