Make Mocha Brownies, and stamp shapes with any size heart-shaped cutter. You’ll have lovely brownies and also a grand snacking plate of in-between. This, as Josie will tell you, is easily the best part.

Today marks the first night of Passover. I have been in the kitchen most of the day, preparing desserts for the seder at my in-laws’ home tonight. This is a family ritual, a traditional – albeit grumbling and hungry – telling of the Passover story, followed by the eating of the so-called festive meal. I make the desserts. And to honor the fact that the Jewish slaves ran like hell out of Egypt before the bread could rise, the desserts have no flour.

And because the desserts have no flour, I go crazy.

I can make flourless things, you know – nice chocolate souffles, chocolate-dipped fruit, coconut meringues – and I make them all for Passover; but with the sudden absence of flour from my arsenal, I spend untold hours wringing my hands and wailing, “oh wheat, you have forsaken me! Where is my baking powder, my grain? Return to me, Apricot Chocolate Tortes of yore.”

I flip the cards of my mental cake-dex and want to mix every one. I want to sift through the air and slice layers to the sky, but I don’t. I honor my ancestors and their grain-free flight from Egypt with meringues, and strawberries, and pretend-banana cake laced with grainy matzo meal.

But here, like a golden calf, we can ogle beautiful chocolate cake. Of course I say this with no disrespect; some of my fondest memories involve being nine years old and seder-table tipsy – after my cousins loaded me with Shnapps, under the table. It’s simply that the no-flour rule waves a flag – a “you can’t have it” flag, and then you want it. Oh fine crumb, stop your wandering – and make a hasty return to your people’s plate!

Happy Passover, Happy Easter, a joyous Spring and a very fine day to you all, whatever you may be celebrating.  I’m back and simmering shortly with something fresh.

But…is it fussy, or patient?  I am in fact extremely patient when it comes to pressing sugar into tins and piping swirls on cakes, and doing extremely skilled tasks like making palm trees out of Styrofoam.  But I’m not truly patient, like my mother.  Her diligence is rare even among the patient, no kidding – if you need your necklace untangled or your candlesticks cleaned, she’s your girl.  Her patience is a virtue, and mine is, shall we say…sweet. Frivolous.

Clearly, one’s relationship to the sugar bowl says volumes – packets – about personality. My Grandma Edna had a kitchen cabinet devoted solely to pocketed Sweet-n-Low; Greg likes a two-second pour (no more), and my Dad does not want sugared coffee but does want a big bowl of chocolate ganache, thank you very much.

My father-in-law has been known to tank three sugars into one small tea, but generally prefers the double whammy of sugar icing on sugar cookies. Me – I like one full Splenda – properly wapped around in the air first – sprinkled on cappuccino. My daughter takes a Wonka-esque view – never too much, it’s all good and you know, that gobstopper should be everlasting.

Flavoring sugar and pressing it into darling little shapes takes sweet devotion to a whole new level, true that, but I think once you see – and taste – their sparkly goodness, you’ll convert, at least once.

My inner Queen Elizabeth has always wanted to clutch a violet-blue handbag and say “one lump or two?” when friends come to tea, but as yet no one’s come to tea – um, we go to coffee – and I’m still not living in England. I am here, drinking cappuccino from a large paper cup. Still – I’m so beguiled by this idea, sugar cubes as art, so precious, too civilized. Set aside the Splenda and summon your inner fussy, and all your patience, to make them – because after all, a spoonful (or shape-ful) of sugar, well…you know.

Cinnamon & Chocolate Sugars

1 lb. (16 oz.) superfine sugar*
2 tsp cocoa powder
2 tsp ground cinnamon

In a small bowl, combine half the sugar with cocoa powder, stirring to blend. In a separate bowl, combine the remaining sugar with cinnamon, stirring to blend. Add 2 1/2 tsp cold water to each bowl. Using hands, mix each well, to the consistency of barely wet sand.

Use a spoon to press sugar mixtures tightly into butter/sugar molds, pressing with the back of the spoon to pack. Invert onto parchment-lined backing sheet. Tap to release shapes, and allow sugars to dry at room temperature, at least a few hours, until completely dry and firm.

Sugars will be slightly fragile; to serve, transfer by spoon or spatula. Store in airtight container.

makes about 30

note: you can use miniature tartlet tins to mold the sugars, as shown, or you can also try the flexible silicon mini-molds designed to form candy or butters.

other note:  This idea was originally culled years ago from a now-forgotten or misplaced source.  If you were the first-ever molded sugar-maker, please accept the credit and my compliments.  You’ve done a great service for dentists everywhere.

* superfine sugar note: if you do choose to indulge in this bit of luxurious fussy-craft, I urge you to actually pick up and use the superfine sugar. Regular granulated sugar will produce a more open-grained, less stable shape, and nothing can ruin that “one lump or two?” moment like broken sugar filling your carpet.

“Ganache is really the mother chocolate,” I was saying to the host, “just this simple mixture, but you can use it hot or cold, as a glaze, a frosting, a filling. In France it’s everything – it’s the chocolate building block for everything!”

Was I saying that? I heard my words sharp and separate, the way you hear yourself on the answering machine. I felt ill. I’d never cooked on camera, I’d skipped breakfast, and now I was two gulps away from heaving on the host. Then, something amazing happened – I not only heard my voice, I saw my hands moving, grasping a whisk, stirring cream into chocolate.

“You just pick it up around the edges a few times,” I said, stirring, “and move in wide circles.” Pick it up. What, the dry cleaning? Is my hair okay? Did I just touch my nose? I was still talking.

“…and then, toward the center. You just stir-stir-stir, and form a vortex.” The host was staring into the bowl. She doesn’t seem to know what a vortex is, I thought, clearly I was speaking a foreign language, in my head it sounded like bird language – so I whisked more vigorously, to show her.

It’s…a spinning circle, a whirling dervish, a swirling eddy. See how the cream and chocolate make a uniform, shiny center? The vortex.

After ganache, the show went on. The host cooed when I glazed chocolate hearts, and then the kirsch truffles looked divine, and aside from that unplugged mixer glitch, I began enjoying the lights, and the talking. I got bolder, gradually warming to my new, network-ready voice. Rolling truffles in cocoa powder, we went to commercial. “We’re rolling right along,” I sang, “and we’ll be right back!”

“Oh, that’s great,” said the producer, “I love that!”

I grinned the whole break, and turned to the host, giggling.  “This is going pretty well, don’t you think?  Next we’ll do the plating, and the rose petals, and…”

She was still, no longer rolling, frozen-eyed and tapping a fingernail on the stove.

Oh.  Now I sounded like a sick crow again. “O-kay….soooo….what are you going to say when we’re back?” Nothing.  “Should I roll more in sugar or more in cocoa?  Ha ha, is this thing on?”

Later I’d gather up my sprinkles and platters, and stuff my chocolate-splotched jacket in a grocery bag. I handed out chocolate-glazed hearts and cherry truffles to the crew, on little cocktail napkins. Thank you, I told them, thanks for having me, certain I wouldn’t be back. I passed the burly cameraman on the way out and he was munching a truffle, cocoa on his chin. I said goodbye, and whispered, “I think the ganache segment came out pretty well, don’t you?”

Chocolate Ganache
from Chocolate, by Nick Malgieri, HarperCollins, 1998

1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 pound (16 ounces) semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

Optional ingredients can be added for flavor, richness and smooth texture. Pick one or all three:

1/4 cup light corn syrup (sweeter, shinier)

-or-

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, softened (richer, more flavorful)

Let the butter stand at room temperature until softened but still cool. Add the butter in chunks to combine during mixing.

-or-

1 teaspoon instant espresso powder dissolved in 1 tablespoon Kahlúa, any liqueur, or 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

To make ganache:

Place chopped chocolate in a medium-sized, heat proof bowl. Note that hot cream will eventually be poured over it and must cover it entirely. If whipping later, use a stand mixer bowl, which is perfect.

Pour cream into a medium saucepan over medium heat, and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and immediately pour over chocolate. Shake bowl, and allow to stand for about 2 minutes.

Stir with a whisk until smooth. If using ganache for a frosting, whisk in the optional room temperature butter chunks and corn syrup until smooth. If desired, whisk in the optional espresso powder dissolved in liqueur.

* Ganache can be poured warm as a glaze, cooled and spread as a stiffer icing, or whipped. Allow to cool less time if pouring (should pour like corn syrup), more for spreading consistency (like buttercream) and the most time for whipping (stiff, but not hard). Don’t let ganache get too cold, or it will not spread as frosting. To re-warm, place the heat-proof bowl over a pan of hot water while stirring to desired texture. Do not reheat to “hot.”

* Ganache can also be refrigerated or set aside. Cover with a piece of plastic wrap pressed atop the ganache and store. If refrigerated, bring to room temperature before using by letting it sit in a warm kitchen spot, about an hour to soften.

* Whipped ganache is used for making truffles, piping, filling or making a mousse. It must be cool to lukewarm when whipped, to whip faster and hold better texture. To whip, place ganache in a mixing bowl and whip it vigorously hand or with an electric mixer on medium-high, until mixture is fluffy and has lightened in color. Do not overwhip or mixture will become grainy. Use whipped ganache immediately.

Tell you what – I’ll sweeten the deal.

Look! I made hot chocolate. Okay? It’s still 97 blazing, itchy degrees here, but I made hot chocolate. With marshmallows. And cinnamon. And in a show of hope and exceedingly good will, I wore a cozy sweatshirt to bed and put that hot chocolate on my nightstand. Then I pulled up the covers and prayed for leaves.

hint hint

But…nothing. I got overheated and the trees stayed green.

What – do you prefer whipped cream to marshmallows? Because I can make that happen, Autumn. I’ll do anything – just wave your wand and color things up. Extra cookies if you cool things down.

That is my invitation, and I don’t think I’m alone. Anyone else ready for warm pajamas, cold nights and hot chocolate?

Today is Mom’s birthday, and last year, we gave her…potato chips. Several thousand potato chips. It was a Potato Chip-of-the-Month club, and for months she happily signed for boxes – filled with bags – loaded with regional specialties like parmesan garlic, fiery jalapeno and even dill pickle-flavored chips.

We gifted her with chip heaven because what she really likes, no, requires, is potato chips. And also chocolate. Uh-huh. Potato chips…and chocolate.

Considering her status as a world-class snacker, she is a remarkably tiny person. You’d never guess she could put away three months’ worth of chips, or was known in her old office as the go-to chocolate girl. She cheerfully dispensed Hershey’s to sleepy co-workers like sugar band-aids.

Salt and chocolate and sugar. Sometimes, nothing else will do.

No avalanche of chips this year, Mom, just a virtual plate of salty and sweet…

…in honor of delighted snackers and the easy-to-please. Happy Birthday, Mom!

Apparently their trial, beginning in June,

…will explore whether compounds called flavonoids found in chocolate and other foods can reduce the risk of heart disease for menopausal women with type 2 diabetes.”

Oh, great. It’s not open to just anyone?

Previous studies have suggested dark chocolate is rich in the beneficial compounds linked with heart health, but experts note the high sugar and fat content of most commercially available chocolate might cancel out some of the advantages.”

What? Peanut Butter Cups are bad for you?

Half the women in the year-long study will eat a super-charged chocolate bar containing 30 grams of flavonoids found in soy, cocoa and other fruits and vegetables. The others will get chocolate without the active compounds.”

Okay, researcher guys. I love me some bittersweet, but you’re British – this study should involve a truck full of Wonka Bars, or at least a few Cadbury eggs. Any volunteers?

But…put them together?

Now I’m interested.

Most people hold a chocolate-glazed strawberry like they’ve been given a puppy. I’ve brought complicated, lovely gateaux to dinners that got less shock and awe than a plate of dipped berries, and I used to resent this, enormously, until I came to realize that people really wanted it, they wanted that basic treat. They wanted it more than my grand-mocha-marnier-genoise-whatever, and in earlier days, this threw me.

My mentor, a kind and brilliant Corsican pastry chef, would call something like dipped strawberries easy for the hobby cooks, and easy was a dirty word. This from the man who sculpted white chocolate one hour and ate raw radishes the next. He whipped meringue by hand but brought his wife’s beef stew for lunch, and after twins arrived, would sneak through Taco Bell. He started teaching us shortcuts – good taste can always be made in good time.

By now I’ve made peace with small pleasures, too – who am I to argue with juicy stains and chocolate lips? Dipped strawberries remind me of the best one-pot dinners, easy to do, so easy on the eyes, and even easier to eat.