Category Archives: Confessions

Guilty pleasure: fun chocolate for grownups

Everyone needs a guilty pleasure. Most people’s guilty pleasure is chocolate. So what’s a chocolate connoisseur to do? If your everyday pleasure is chocolate, how can it possibly get any guiltier?

I know some chocolate snobs who swear by milk chocolate with almonds. There’s something comforting about the crunchiness. Milk chocolate with hazelnuts, too. The fact that it’s milk chocolate is pretty telling; it’s a break from the analytical chocolate tasting that we usually do.

Let’s be clear. I’m not talking about a complete departure from good taste. I’m still not eating anything with waxy fillers or oils masquerading as cocoa butter. But take a decent foundation chocolate, one without too many distinct flavours, and throw some fun stuff in it? Yesssss. Here are three wacky bars that are high on my list for the fun factor.

Theo Chocolate Bread & Chocolate

I loved the Theo Chocolate Bread & Chocolate bar two years ago when I first tried it, and it’s still one of my favourites. You could call it a deconstructed pain au chocolat, or you could just eat the damn thing.

If I were to make this at home, I would buy a baguette and leave it on the counter for a week until every last bit of moisture was gone. Then, I would bash it to pieces, collect the bread crumbs and coat them with melted, unsalted butter. Then, I would take the buttered bread bits and add them to tempered dark chocolate.

Seeing as how I am not about to clean up the mess that the bread bashing would cause, I’m happy to let Theo Chocolate do the work and put it in a cute little wrapper with cats on it.

The crunchiness is like no other; it has a very distinct crispness to it that perfectly complements the melting chocolate. And the buttery finish is completely unexpected, lending a surprising savouriness to the experience. (And psst, the chocolate is certified organic and fair trade.)

Komforte Chockolate French Toast

I bought the Komforte Chockolates French Toast bar because of the label. I love it. As it turns out, the chocolate bar inside is pretty kick-ass, too.

As soon as I opened the foil wrapper, a cloud of syrupy vanilla wafted toward me. The bar itself is milk chocolate with chunks of crispy French toast inside. The French toast is the texture of very thin croutons, and the first taste provides a heady mixture of nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla. A second later, there’s a decidedly confident saltiness at the back of the palate. The finish is all salt. The milk chocolate is the perfect sweetness and is, really, just a vehicle for crunchy, spiced, salty French toast. The entire experience is highly addictive.

Komforte also makes a Ramen Noodle bar and a Tortilla Lime Salt bar. The Ramen Noodle bar sounds cool but was rather disappointing. I didn’t buy the Tortilla Lime Chip bar, but you’d better believe I will the next opportunity that I get.

Chuao Chocolatier Firecracker Bar

This bar from Chuao Chocolatier boasts chipotle, salt and popping candy, which you might remember as Pop Rocks.

As a kid, I loved Pop Rocks, but they made me uncomfortable. The entire experience of buying and eating Pop Rocks gave me weird tummy rumblings. In retrospect, I think it was the anticipation of the popping: one part nervousness, one part excitement, and one part brain thinking that exploding candy is really quite bizarre.

Well, not much has changed. The first few pieces of this chocolate made me really uncomfortable. That familiar tummy rumbling was back. I put the bar down, only to be inexplicably drawn to it. I tried again. This time, less rumbly. And the third time, I was hooked. I couldn’t get enough.

It’s not all about the popping candy, though. The salt draws out the cocoa notes in the chocolate, and the chipotle provides a sweet smokiness up front, followed by a slow burn on the finish. The slow burn is just distracting enough to fill the gap in time between finishing one piece and putting the next one in your mouth.

It’s really sad when you realize you’ve eaten the entire bar in one sitting, though. Not out of some guilty complex that you’ve eaten an entire chocolate bar, but the simple fact that there isn’t any more.

Unless you’re me, and you bought three of them. Mwahaha.

Working as a chocolatier

IP 5 Chocolate box 2-sizedThere are two kinds of people in this world: those who are cut out for food service, and those who aren’t. I tried to be in the first category, but I know that I really belong in the second. I started as a pastry chef, working in bakeries, pastry shops, restaurants, and hotels. Wherever I was, I always ended up working with chocolate.

It was only a matter of time before I worked for some of the country’s top chocolatiers. I started in a teeny, tiny, family-run business where everything was done by hand. At the other end of the spectrum, I worked in a high-volume, high-end setup where, at the height of Christmas craziness, we produced 80,000 chocolates per week.

The family-run chocolate shop

The shop was owned and operated by an eccentric German family. Everything in the shop was handmade from family recipes that dated back three generations, written in faded ink on yellowed paper that was spattered with ancient stains.

In the basement, there was a bakery where I learned to make 25 litre batches of dense German nut tortes, roll out 6 feet of puff pastry by hand, and make soup vats full of caramel.

Caramel is also known as liquid napalm, as the two-inch scar on my right thumb will attest. If you are unfortunate enough to have it contact your skin, this is what will happen: your neurons will register that a liquid at 165 degrees Celsius has just hit your skin. A half-second later, your brain will realize that in the time it took the first neurons to fire, said liquid has burned its way through the top five layers of your skin and is making its way through your flesh, on its way to the bone.

dark heart 2-sized

The basement bakery was hot, and dusty with flour. I preferred working upstairs in the 6-foot square space that I shared with two co-workers, where we stirred endless vats of chocolate. Gym? Who needed a gym? I had the world’s best biceps, trained from hours on end of stirring stirring stirring.

We whispered sweet nothings to the chocolate. We coaxed it until it formed precious Form V crystals, the required crystal formation for perfectly tempered chocolate. Then we would transform the chocolate into heart-shaped boxes, Easter bunnies clutching baskets of flowers, and happy face lollipops.

piano 4-sized

We dipped truffles by hand. I can still hear the tap tap tap of the dipping forks on the edge of the bowl. My favourite days were when we made molded chocolate confections: domes full of pistachio marzipan, square buttons full of coffee ganache, faceted jewels full of mint ganache…

In my last week there, I made a piano out of chocolate.

The high-volume chocolate shop

The high-volume shop glittered with machines. The enrobing machine, with its long conveyor belt, brought to mind the chocolate episode of I Love Lucy. My co-workers were, quite honestly, the most efficient people I have ever worked with. Ever.

Here, we didn’t have to coax the chocolate into beta crystals. Two tempering machines kept dark and milk chocolate circulating 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

We worked clean and we worked fast. We were a well-oiled machine. We made bonbons, we cut them, we enrobed them, we decorated them. And, the next time we did it, we worked cleaner and faster. Lather, rinse, repeat.

We spent most of our time on the enrober, which coated the bonbons in a thin shell of tempered chocolate. There was a small platform where we’d set the naked bonbons, and then they’d take a chocolate bath in the enrober. They emerged on the other end and we would finish them with custom decorations.

My favourite task was to set the bonbons. The machine beeped at set intervals, and I raced myself to see how many bonbons I could place on the belt before the beep sounded. I raced around to the other end of the enrober to pick up the finished bonbons, then back to the other end to set some more. Meanwhile, two co-workers stood calmly in the middle, decorating the enrobed bonbons with what can only be described as zen calm.

Chocolate domes-sized

It was a game I played, willing myself to beat my old record.

Each bonbon got its own delicate decoration, none of which were simple. Many of them needed a cocoa butter transfer, which had to be applied in the 20-second window after the chocolate emerged from the enrober, before the chocolate set. Some bonbons were christened with a nut, placed at a very precise angle. Others got a sprinkle of sea salt, a drizzle of white chocolate. My least favourite decoration required a single leaf of edible gold. Gold leaf likes to stick to itself and to the container that it’s in. It’s like ketchup: you get none, or you get the entire bottle.

We also made molded chocolate caramels. Lots of them.

My kitchen, today

In the end, I found out that I’m just not cut out for food service. I’m not knocking it, just saying that it doesn’t work for me. The 16-hour days, the (ahem) less-than-ideal pay…it just doesn’t make sense.

Working in someone else’s chocolate shop, you have to make whatever is in their product line. Customers expect those products every time that they visit the shop. Consequently, being a chocolatier is one of the most routine jobs that I could have chosen. It also happens to be one of the most technical, which is why I was drawn to it—but I’m easily bored, so routine doesn’t sit well with me.

I don’t make money playing around in my kitchen, but I can be creative with what I make, and make money elsewhere. If it’s delicious, then my friends and family get to benefit from my brilliance. And if it isn’t…well, I’ll probably eat it anyway.

What I ate last week

Disclaimer: this post is not about chocolate. I’m sorry. I know you’re all eagerly awaiting another snarky post about some chocolatier gone wrong, but you’ll just have to wait.

In the meantime, I present you with a list of things that I ate last week while showing a friend around the city. Split this list between two people…and it’s still a ridiculous amount of food. Also bear in mind that we walked the equivalent of a marathon (42 km, or 26 miles) and hiked up Grouse Mountain last week, so I think we worked off a few of the calories that we ingested.

Without further ado, this is what I ate last week, in the order that my memory came up with:

  • 6 xiao long bao
  • 9 spicy wontons
  • 1 bowl of spicy beef noodle soup with hand-pulled noodles
  • 3 turnip cakes in rice flour pastry
  • 1 cone of pink grapefruit-campari sorbetto
  • 1 cup of passionfruit guava sorbetto
  • 10 crepes with summer berry compote
  • 1 grilled cheese sandwich (contained 4 kinds of cheese)
  • 1 fennel salad with candied walnuts
  • 1 bacon truffle
  • 1 raspberry truffle
  • 5 pieces salmon sashimi
  • 5 pieces tuna sashimi
  • 5 pieces toro sashimi
  • 2 negitoro cones
  • 1 spicy tuna cone
  • 1 scallop cone
  • 2 oysters motoyaki
  • 3 cubes agedashi tofu
  • 3 cubes spicy pan-fried tofu
  • 6 pieces BC rolls
  • 6 pieces avocado rolls
  • 6 pieces yam tempura
  • 6 pieces assorted vegetable tempura
  • 2 dishes neopolitan ice cream
  • 8 pieces toast
  • 6 eggs, scrambled
  • 10 slices of 4-year aged cheddar
  • 2 bowls of pho with rare beef and cooked flank
  • 2 deep-fried Vietnamese spring rolls
  • 2 Japadogs (one oroshi, one okonomi)
  • 2 bowls of my mom’s seafood soup
  • 2 desserts from Boneta: bowl of local cherries with Aztec chocolate ice cream, cherry foam and elderflower jelly; lemongrass baba with chantilly, local blackberries, blackberry sorbet and crispy cookie
  • 1 granola bar, kindly donated by a stranger on the Grouse Grind
  • 1 baguette
  • 1/2 wheel of Moonstruck Cheese ash-riped camembert
  • 1 bowl of kalamata olives
  • 1 homemade pithivier
  • 1 plate of Najib’s Special from nuba
  • 2 pistachio baklava
  • 8 shiu mai
  • 5 fish balls in curry sauce
  • 2 dishes fried noodles
  • 9 pieces of scallop and shrimp takoyaki
  • 1 skewer of grilled pan bread
  • 1 skewer barbecued shrimp
  • 1 skewer barbecued chicken
  • 1 custard-filled Taiwanese waffle cake
  • 1 sheet of egg-shaped waffle dessert thingies
  • 4 shrimp dumplings
  • 3 shrimp rolls
  • 3 pieces pan-fried turnip cake
  • 3 pea shoot dumplings
  • 3 shrimp-chive pan-fried dumplings
  • 2 apple tarts
  • countless bowls of fresh Okanagan fruit (cherries, blueberries, apricots)
  • handfuls of wild blackberries, plucked off spiky vines wherever we found them

And this is what we drank (it isn’t nearly as impressive a list):

  • 1 taster glass of each of three kinds of artisan sake
  • 2 glasses of Joie rose (tastes like summer in a glass)
  • 2 bottles of Powerade from the top of Grouse Mountain
  • 4 perfect cocktails made by Simon at Voya
  • 2 bottles of Ganton & Larsen Prospect Winery Ogopogo’s Lair pinot grigio
  • 1 juicebox of lychee juice
  • 1 cup of Hong Kong style coffee & tea
  • countless cups of coffee (including a stop at Elysian)
  • 1 coconut, juice and pulp
  • 1 cup of drinking chocolate

Looks like a week of salad and iced tea. Anything green, really. I think I might have scurvy.

Bribery

Sometimes I feel like an animal at the zoo, or maybe the aquarium, in that I have to bribe myself to do things. This is particularly pronounced on beautiful sunny days when I’d rather be running around outside, but am sitting inside staring woefully at a computer screen.

You know how you can train a dolphin to do flips in exchange for, I don’t know, sardines? Way back when, I trained myself to work by rationing out bits of chocolate at set times. During university, I ate an M&M every time I finished reading a page. Sometimes when I was feeling crazy, I’d switch to peanut M&Ms, or – gasp! – Skittles.

Clearly, the grown-up equivalent is to bribe myself with nice chocolate.

It’s tricky, though. I have piles of beautiful artisan chocolate that might as well have been made by the hands of blue-haired pixies, and it seems like such a shame to “waste” it by using it as an absent-minded chocolate bribe. I tried buying high-end grocery store chocolate, thinking it would be okay…and sadly, it isn’t. I’ve ruined myself. It all tastes like wax and sugar to me.

It’s gummy bears and jelly beans from here on out.

Chocolate and coffee

It’s a pastry chef’s secret that if you’re making something chocolate-flavoured, a little bit of coffee acts like an invisible flavour enhancer. This is true for chocolate cake, chocolate icing, chocolate pudding, chocolate pastry, chocolate pudding pie, chocolate souffle…wait, what was I talking about?

Oh, right. Chocolate and coffee.

When used properly in chocolate recipes, you don’t even taste the addition of coffee. But there’s something about it that makes the chocolate taste more robust, more chocolatey, more kick-ass. As if it needed any help.

This is one of the few cases when I’ll actually advocate the use of freeze-dried coffee. No longer the stuff of camping trips, a teaspoon or two can make a surprising difference.

When I have the time and inclination, I’ll make a batch of espresso and then boil it down until it’s a thick syrup. I keep it in the fridge and add it to recipes that can accommodate the extra liquid.

So there you go. The cat’s out of the bag.