Chocolate

If you like the hearty taste of Guinness Stout, this is the ice cream for you. I was curious as to whether the beer flavor was too strong, so I asked my friend Heather, a knockout whose microscopic waistline belies the fact that the girl really knows her beer, to come by and taste. She gave this one a big thumbs up, so I sent her home with the whole container. The next day the phone rang. It was Heather, telling me that she offered some to her good-looking new neighbor, whom she’d been looking for an excuse to approach, and he was smitten enough to ask her out on a date between spoonfuls. While I can’t promise that sharing this ice cream will wind up being an icebreaker for you, I don’t see any reason not to give it a try.

I finally understand the allure of milk chocolate. While writing a book exploring the world of chocolate, I became determined to get over my skepticism, and I taste-tested as many milk chocolates as I could. Yes, it was tough work, but I felt compelled to do it. I became a convert after sampling premium milk chocolates made with a high percentage of cocoa solids, and a whole new world opened up to me. Mixing in cocoa nibs adds a crunchy counterpoint to this milky-smooth ice cream. I like biting into the little bits of pure, unadulterated chocolate, but I’ve made them optional, since you may not have them readily available (you can substitute chocolate chips). But once you taste a few, you’ll find yourself adding them to chocolate desserts all the time, like I do. (See Resources, page 237, for online sources.)

The Aztecs were such trendsetters. Although it’s become fashionably chic, from Soho to South Beach, to spice up chocolate with a bit of chile pepper, in fact it’s a custom that goes back more than a thousand years. And I wonder if, even back then, there were paparazzi stalking luminaries in Central America, hoping to catch them in spicy situations. When your guests taste this decadent, zippy chocolate ice cream, you’ll understand what all the fuss is about—and perhaps develop a few overzealous followers yourself.

Unsweetened chocolate provides the maximum chocolate flavor in this non-custard-based chocolate ice cream. But bitter chocolate can be stubborn to melt, so whiz the mixture in a blender until it’s silky smooth.

My search for the ultimate chocolate ice cream ended the day I opened my ice cream maker and took a taste of this version. And before I knew it, I’d licked the dasher as clean as the day I bought it! Intense cocoa powder blended with unctuous dark chocolate results in a perfect chocolate ice cream that’s so irresistible you won’t be able to wait to dig in either. I don’t know why, but homemade ice cream always tastes best scraped (or, if no one’s watching, licked) directly from the machine.

Making puddings is one of the tasks the slow cooker does especially well. This scrumptious blend of flavors found in Mexican chocolate and desserts is a wonderful ending to a meal, or an afternoon or evening snack itself. I like to eat it hot, warm, or at room temperature, topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and with cocoa powder or grated chocolate.

This is my all-time favorite chocolate sauce and the one I’ve been making for almost three chocolate-filled decades. Don’t let the fact that it doesn’t contain any cream or butter make you think that this sauce is lacking in any way—it gets maximum intensity from ramped-up amounts of chocolate and cocoa powder. I do prefer to use Dutch-process cocoa powder here because of its stronger flavor and darker color, but you can use natural cocoa powder if that’s what you prefer or have on hand. Since it has no cream or butter, I don’t feel any guilt liberally pouring this sauce over desserts like Anise-Orange Ice Cream Profiteroles (page 172) or a wedge of Pear Tart with Brown Butter, Rum, and Pecans (page 91).

For those who like their chocolate sauce rich and thick, this sauce has more body than the Bittersweet Chocolate Sauce (page 243), courtesy of a modest amount of cream. It is particularly appealing when served side by side or gently swirled with White Chocolate Sauce (below) as an accompaniment to wedges of chocolate cake.

I fall into the camp of white chocolate lovers because, unlike white chocolate critics, I don’t compare it to dark chocolate. Instead, I appreciate it for its own lavishly rich merits. Because it’s on the sweeter side, white chocolate sauce pairs especially well with desserts with the puckery punch of lemon, such as the Lemon Semifreddo (page 65), Super-Lemony Soufflés (page 130), or Freestyle Lemon Tartlets (page 94.) Be sure to use real white chocolate, one which lists only cocoa butter in the list of ingredients, and no other vegetable fats. Since white chocolate plays such an important part in this sauce, you want it to be as good as it possibly can be.

It was a happy day when an enterprising midwesterner decided that the surplus of sour cherries could be dried instead of left neglected on the trees. And thus, one of my favorite baking ingredients was born. But this recipe is eminently adaptable and you can use any kind of dried fruit or toasted nuts that suits you. Diced apricot pieces and cranberries, walnuts and toasted pecans, and roasted cocoa nibs have all found their way into various batches of this bark. I even got really crazy once and crumbled candied bacon into a batch. That one met with a few raised eyebrows, but was gobbled up by all.

I thought I knew all about chocolate truffles until I enrolled in an advanced course in chocolate making at a school for professionals next to the Valrhona factory in France’s Rhône Valley. I spent three very intense days there learning how to combine three simple ingredients—chocolate, cream, and butter—into silky smooth ganache. In the class were eight of the top chocolatiers in the world, plus a ninth person, who quickly realized that he had a lot more to learn about chocolate than he thought he did. Ganache seems simple, but chef Philippe Givre taught us how to whip these three ingredients into a velvety paste that needed several days of rest before it was ready to be tasted. (It’s worth the wait!) It would take a whole book to explain his technique and a professionally equipped kitchen attached to a chocolate factory to try it out, so for this recipe, I’ve shortened the process a bit. Of course, to make these truffles, it’s worth seeking out the best chocolate you can find, which, if you’re lucky like I was, might be right next door.

I love chocolate. But sometimes I want something that’s packed with intense chocolate flavor yet not outrageously rich. These biscotti certainly fit the bill. Italians often add a dash of black pepper to desserts and give them the designation pepato. I share their affection for a hit of peppery flavor in desserts, but feel free to omit the pepper if you’d like.

Writing an ice cream book means two things: (1) you’ll need to buy a separate freezer, and (2) you’re going to have buckets of egg whites left over. Because this recipe uses quite of bit of egg whites, it was a staple in my repertoire for a while. I was certain all my friends (and neighbors, and delivery men, and local merchants, and the people who work in my doctor’s office) would tire of eating these coconut macaroons, but never once did I hear a complaint. Dipping the bottoms in dark chocolate isn’t required, but it really lifts the macaroons to a whole different level. I very highly recommend it.

I have a blanket mistrust of any recipe with a superlative in the title. “The ultimate” or “the world’s finest” always makes me raise an eyebrow. But how else can I describe these brownines? I’ve made a lot of brownies in my life, and these really are the best. I learned to make them from the late Robert Steinberg, who changed the world of American chocolate when he cofounded Scharffen Berger chocolate. Part of Robert’s unique charm was that he was quick to argue, but I learned that like most people who hold strong opinions (at least food-wise), they’re invariably right when you taste the results. He adapted his recipe from one by cookbook author Maida Heatter. The first time I made these brownies, they were a dry, crumbly disaster. Still unconvinced that they were worthy of their accolades, I listened carefully as he walked me through the steps. When he asked if I had stirred the batter vigorously for 1 full minute, I stammered and then finally admitted that I cut that step short. “Aha!” he said. So I made them again, and discovered that was one life-changing minute.

It’s a misconception that the French don’t like American food. Step into any bakery in Paris and you’re likely to see one of two things: le gâteau au fromage or les brownies. Usually the cheesecake is pretty good, but the brownies are too often pale facsimiles. For some reason that I don’t understand, the French never put enough chocolate in their brownies. In my efforts to promote international understanding, I hand out brownies freely to my Parisian friends in hopes that pretty soon, someone will get the message and ramp up the fudginess of French brownies. (Perhaps it’s because the word “fud-gee” isn’t part of the French vocabulary?) And because I sometimes can’t help showing off my American audaciousness, I’ll whip up this recipe that combines the best of both the cheesecake and brownie worlds and pass the squares around. They tend to take people by surprise—I think the French need a little more time to get used to such a cra-zee combination.

In the kitchen at Chez Panisse, we called these “chocolate crack cookies” because of the craggy fissures that formed on the surface of the cookies as they baked. But because the restaurant was (and still is) located in Berkeley, California, we were conscious of what that name suggested, so we came up with all sorts of less objectionable aliases: baked chocolate truffles and chocolate quake cookies, to name just a couple. Nowadays, “crack” is a term freely used to describe anything addictive. And I feel comfortable using it to describe these cookies, which are a perfectly legit way to get a chocolate fix.

Bursting with gooey chocolate chips and crisp toasted nuts, these chocolate chip cookies have us all stary-eyed.

These are the darkest, most chocolatey cookies you’ll ever sink your teeth into. A whopping full pound of chocolate and two cups of chocolate chips ensure an express route to chocolate heaven. While the cookies bake, watch them carefully and remove them from the oven while they still feel molten in the center and just barely cooked around the outer edges because you want them to remain soft and chewy once they’re cool. But I suspect a few will go missing before they have a chance to cool completely.

When I was going over the recipes to include in this book, next to this one my editor wrote in big letters “BY ALL MEANS.” So I took that as a “yes.” Because of the caramel, the mousse is slightly soft even when frozen, so it’s best stored in the coldest part of your freezer. But don’t forget about it back there. Once you taste it, I doubt that you will.

Anise is used liberally in Mediterranean and Middle Eastern desserts, but it is an underused spice in the American pastry repertoire. I find it adds an exotic touch, at once familiar yet a tad elusive. It seems especially intriguing to people who aren’t used to it paired with orange or chocolate, or both, as it is in this twist on classic ice cream puffs.