Because the owner friend was a guy, a special brand of chill out guy, he gave the guy cooks a pass. Guys who, while slapping out breakfast, enjoyed vodka and orange Crush. In that light it was difficult to wield authority, impossible really, when a red-rimmed dude could come in three days late and get promoted. What I could do was focus on pastry, which desperately needed attention. The bakers had no set morning menu, browning whatever came to mind any sunrise of the week. There might be cherry chocolate scones for three days, no scones for two days, and a creative burst of pistachio-pineapple-something toward the end of the week.

This would not do. I wanted to see a schedule. Schedules with headings, and attached pens, and clipboards.  I wanted staff and customers to know what to expect, sure that if flour, sugar and order prevailed, the line would be out the door. I held a staff meeting to discuss the impending change.

“Why do we need a scone schedule?”

“Because when you get here at five a.m., I don’t want you to have to think.”

They were looking at me, at their phones. What am I saying? They don’t think about anything now.

I proposed doing a plain scone every day – a traditional Cream scone – in addition to a variation, say, Blueberry Oatmeal on Monday, Apricot Pecan on Tuesday, and so on. They cast suspicious looks at the typed lists I passed around, as if I were an uptight mayor cracking down on deviant art.

“Does anyone have questions?”

One agitated look. “Yeah…what’s a cream scone. Don’t we put cream in all the scones?”

“Yes…but that’s just a traditional name, Cream scone. Something we can call the everyday one.”

Dead air.

“So customers know what the everyday scone is called.”

“But…it’s just, you know like, cream. It’s one word.”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“All your other ones have two things in them, like two names.”

“Yes. But this is a CREAM scone. Our flagship scone!”

“Customers want two names for everything.”

“Fine. We’ll call it Cream and Sugar Scones. Two things.”

Grumbling, shifting of car keys, and one confounded cook.

“I just…that just sounds weird, Cream and Sugar.”

“It does.”

“Yeah…I mean, one word sounds plain, and two words sound stupid, and…whatever.”

I took the sheet from his hand and pulled a pencil from my apron.

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I will take care of the menu, and I will make the scones, and you guys just come in late and drink heavily and clean the grease traps. Okay?”

This threw them. One elbowed another.

“Yeah. So I guess Cream and Sugar is fine.”

“Good.” I scratched out Cream and wrote Cream AND Sugar, then handed back the lists. “Meeting adjourned.”

DOUBLE CHOCOLATE GINGER SCONES

The slacker boys got this much right: people do love combination scones. This might be my all-time favorite, a signature flavor from my old Scone on the Range frozen scone business. I am happy to bring it back for your chocolate (and ginger!) enjoyment.

makes about 1 dozen large or 24 small scones

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cocoa powder
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon sea salt
6 oz. cold butter, cubed (12 tablespoons)
1/4 cup sugar
4 large eggs
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup semi-sweet (or darker) chocolate chips
1/2 cup roughly chopped crystallized ginger, in chunks

extra sugar for sprinkling

———————

Preheat the oven to 400 F.

Whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda and salt in large mixing bowl or stand mixer bowl.

Cut in butter. You can do this one of two ways:

Electric stand mixer With the flour mixture in the stand mixer bowl and the paddle blade attached, turn on the slowest speed and slowly add butter chunks, mixing to a coarse meal texture, with only a few remaining large flour-butter crumbs.

(or)

By hand Using a sharp-bladed pastry cutter tool, or two knives, “cut” the butter pieces into the flour mixture until you have a coarse meal texture.

In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs, cream, and vanilla.

Add liquid mixture to dry ingredients by hand or with stand mixer on low, using “on-off” mixing. Stop just long enough to add sugar, chocolate chips, and crystallized ginger, then continue mixing briefly to form a soft and sticky dough. Scrape dough onto lightly floured surface and turn over a few times to combine, adding flour if necessary.

Form scones You can divide dough in half, form each piece to a 1″ thick round, and cut into equal wedges, or you can pat to 1″ thick and use floured cutters for rounds or triangles.

Transfer scones to cookie sheet pan, preferably lined with parchment paper.

If desired, brush the top of each scone with a small amount of milk or cream. Sprinkle the extra white sugar thickly over tops. Bake 15-18 minutes, or until set and tops are golden brown. For the chocolate-ginger variety, watch the bottom of the scones for darkened color. Cool on baking sheet a few minutes, then transfer to racks, and serve.

* For a look at scone-mixing process (same method) visit this post: Scone, Scone on the Range

Note: use the best cocoa powder you can find for a rich chocolate dough. Cocoa tends to dry out baked goods; these hold very well for several days wrapped at room temperature, but after 1-2 days are best briefly reheated in a microwave, for just a few seconds. This also gives you the added, insanely pleasurable bonus of gooey chocolate chips.

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.

My friends, sometimes coffee is not enough. Sometimes you must start the day with more than one shade of brown.

Just a little something. And at the end of the day, maybe a little something again?

——————————

Chocolate Breakfast Muffins

makes 12 full-sized muffins (or 24 minis)

2/3 cup (2 oz.) cocoa, Dutch-process or natural
1 3/4 cups (7 1/4 oz.) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cups (10 oz.) light brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup (6 oz.) chocolate chips
2 large eggs
1 cups (8 oz.) milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 teaspoons vinegar
8 tablespoons (one 4-oz. stick) butter or margarine, melted

granulated sugar, for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 425 F.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together cocoa, flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and chocolate chips. Set aside.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, milk, vanilla, and vinegar. Add this egg mixture, along with the melted butter, to the dry ingredients, stirring to blend until just well-combined.

Scoop the batter into 12 papered muffin cups (or 24 minis). Sprinkle with an even layer of granulated sugar. Bake muffins for 15-20 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean. Watch muffins closely – they can slightly burn around edges if overbaked. Remove the muffins from oven.

Allow to cool about 5 minutes in the pan, then remove to cool slightly on a wire rack before serving.

adapted from The King Arthur Flour Baker’s Companion

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.