A Chocolate Window in the Marais

Just when you think you've seen the most delectable window in Paris, you stumble upon another one.

I want to dive into this chocolate confection, don't you? The photo was taken near the Bastille in Paris.

Give someone chocolate this week.

Happy St. Valentine's Day!

Chocolate on My Pillow

It was a sunny Friday when our northbound train pulled into Paris at Gare d'Austerllitz. We sat waiting for the car to empty. We had four bags, including a huge Pullman case that could easily accommodate all the holdings of the Louvre.

"Remember how hot it was last time?" I asked my husband. We'd had three cases then, but one of them was filled with jars of jam and boxes of rice and bottles of olive oil and soaps and perfumes and pottery. We'd walked uphill in 85-degree weather to get to our hotel and then collapsed on the bed, hoping the cranky air-conditioning would cool us.

"It's all level ground this time," my husband reminded me. "And it's October, not May."

It took nearly 20 minutes to exit the train, and walk through the station.

We stepped out into a downpour.

"Let's hurry!" my husband shouted above the din of Paris traffic on a Friday afternoon.

Yeah. Hurry with four suitcases and only one umbrella. Always the gentleman, my husband let me have the umbrella. Our five block walk seemed like 10 blocks. And the rain was not nearly as gentle as it had been in 2007 when we walked 3.5 miles along the Seine (my husband kept insisting our bus would come along any minute).

In fact, the rain was torrential. Paris foot traffic had ground to a halt. Everyone was standing in doorways and under awnings and overhangs. Everyone except us.

We had booked two nights at the Marceau Bastille, an artsy little boutique hotel on Rue Jules César, which runs more or less parallel to Avenue Ledru-Rollin and intersects with Rue de Lyon, an area we know well from past visits.

We arrived, dripping water. The young man and the kind lady behind the desk were incredibly understanding, and gave us strong hot coffee while we waited for our room. A half hour later when we were escorted to our stylish rose-and-gray room, there were chocolate lollipops on our pillows. We might have lunged for the chocolate had a hotel staff member not delivered two flutes of sparkling wine to our door.

"Let's save them for a celebration," I said. "Maybe Christmas." I meant the chocolate, not the bubbly.

My husband agreed and when we got home, the lollipops were consigned to the cupboard shelf that holds wine glasses and Champagne flutes. They sat there for months. Finally, desperate for chocolate, I ate mine.

The chocolate, from Jean-Paul Hevin, was - no pun intended - heavenly. Rich. Creamy. Sweet with a hint of salt.

And then, I stole my husband's. Yes, I confess. When he found out, he was not especially happy. But he is now.

If you want to see what I did with my heavenly chocolate, you will have to read this.

See Jean-Paul Hevin's official site here.

Chocolate Weather

The skies are gray and mottled today. It is chocolate weather.

I love chocolate, but my desire for it is most intense in November, when the days are either dark and blustery, or amber-tinted and golden.

My favorite chocolate memories are coming into a warm kitchen after a long day at school and finding my mother had baked chocolate cookies. Hers were chewy, gooey and moist - maybe even half baked - because our oven baked them that way.

My second favorite memory is the Thanksgiving Day I remained in my tiny Madison apartment with Colette's "Claudine." Something in the book triggered a craving and at 4 p.m. I cobbled together a luscious chocolate soufflé. For supper.

My third favorite memory is working a few blocks from a tiny Green Bay restaurant called La Bonne Femme. It was my favorite lunch spot: I loved the chocolate pots de creme and perhaps imprudently, ordered one whenever possible.

I could go on, of course. My bank of chocolate memories is vast and deep. How about yours?

The photo, I should note, was taken at the bakery on the corner of Rue de Monttessuy and Avenue de la Bourdonnais in Paris, at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. It is always chocolate weather in Paris.

What's Your Favorite Chocolate Nibble?

Quality chocolate can now be found most anywhere, from supermarkets to drugstores.

Of course, nothing can replace chocolate from a chocolatier.

But there are many pre-packaged brands that offer rich, layered chocolate flavor. I am on a quest to find them.

I found this bag of Bean Buddies at TJ Maxx. Five small morsels were surprisingly satisfying. The bag lasted two weeks.

So I'm posing some questions: What have you found out there and where did you find it? Why did you like it? Was it expensive? Where can you find it online?

I'd love to hear from you.

Also, if you have a chocolate blog, please send me your link so I can add it to my blogroll. I reserve the right to be selective.

Just Call This Chocolate Truffle Dip

Thanks to the luck of the draw, I am now the proud owner of a small but costly jar of truffle breakings.

Yes, indeed, I was one of the raffle winners in the highly successful Menu for Hope auction this year.

My prize was a $50 gift certificate from L’Epicerie, one of several secured by Gerald of Foodite.

I wasted no time placing an order for exotic items unheard of in small-town Wisconsin supermarkets. Among my purchases — I broke down and dipped into my own pocket to augment my order, a small extravagance to brighten these dreary days of January — is also a jar of truffle vinaigrette.

Oh, the pleasures of the palate to come! Vegetable dishes, salads, meats and more will be enhanced by these tiny little black diamond chips.

My truffles breakings arrived yesterday as I was standing patiently by the stove, stirring my chocolate and cream for candy truffles. (One of my co-workers is departing for new horizons today, and I want to give her a sweet sendoff.)

Besides, I had some mascarpone cheese to use up (ever the frugal one, that’s me).

Finally, it is Sugar High Friday, and even though I missed the deadline for a highly-prized link at David Lebovitz’s site, I wanted to join the fun.

These are easy to make. The recipe is — once again — from the Wisconsin Milk Marketing Board.

Buttery Bittersweet Mascarpone Truffles From Wisconsin

4 ounces finest quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 ounces finest quality milk chocolate, chopped
2/3 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons sugar
4 ounces (1/2 cup) mascarpone, at room temperature
1 tablespoon liqueur
1 cup finely ground pecans or walnuts

Place all ingredients — except nuts — in a double boiler or a small bowl or pan set over a deeper sauce pan. Warm over medium heat, stirring frequently until the mixture is thoroughly melted and smooth.

Cover and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, quickly roll into medium balls and place on wax paper. Coat in cocoa powder, finely ground nuts or sugar. Refrigerate: These are soft truffles and must remain chilled to retain their shape.

In theory, that is. In practice, I was not so lucky. I must have done something wrong — gotten some water in my mix or soemthing — because I ended up with sauce. Or dip. But since my theory is when life hands you dip, get chips, I found a way to rebound. When eaten with dipping pretzels, this truffle mix makes a dandy dip. And it's already got cheese in it.

Please Note: I take full responsibility for the failure. Milk Marketing Board recipes are highly reliable and I've never gone wrong with one. I think the arrival of my goodies in the middle of the truffle process distracted me.

Now here's the funny part of this whole truffle business: I never intended to bid on the gift certificates (but am I glad I did!). I thought I was bidding on David Lebovitz's chocolate tour of Paris. But in my haste, the second time I placed a bid, I bid on EU08, instead of UE08. Or vice versa, I could never figure out which. But it doesn't matter. I'm more than delighted with my prize, and plan to become a frequent L’Epicerie customer.

Chocolate Madeleines

Some time ago, I bought a madeleine pan, reasoning that such accouterments were essential in a French kitchen.

Besides, I love shells of any shape or form, and have a small collection scattered in bowls and baskets throughout my house.

I had good intentions. But I never actually made madeleines. The pan languished in my pie safe for several years.

Sunday was the day. I had a few free hours and we were being blanketed by a gentle snow — just the kind of afternoon for baking something containing chocolate.

Chocolate Madeleines

1/2 cup semisweet chocolate, shredded
¾ stick unsalted butter, sliced
½ teaspoon instant coffee
2 eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
½ cup flour
½ teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350.

Melt the butter and chocolate in a double boiler, adding the coffee when thoroughly melted. Stir frequently.

Beat eggs and sugar with a hand-held mixer on medium high. Continue until mixture thickens. You will know it is thick when strands of liquid fall from the beater as you raise it from the bowl.

In a separate bowl, mix flour and salt. Gradually add the egg-sugar mixture. Blend thoughly.

Add the chocolate, blending carefully. Add the vanilla.

Now comes the messy part: Pouring the batter into the madeleine pan. I used a spoon. You might also try a measure cup or pour the whole thing into a larger cup and pour it in. Each shell-shaped cavity should be only ¾ full.

Place the madeleine pan on a cookie sheet and bake until cookies are springy to the touch, 10-12 minutes.

This makes a very cake-like cookie, but one that is not terribly moist. Good for dipping in hot chocolate, I would say. The taste reminded me of the chocolate cookies my mother made on winter days when I was a kid.

The Gift of Chocolate at Christmas

The Christmas after my father died, everyone in the family made an effort to be especially thoughtful.

My mother had taken a job in a candy-and-candle shop and had little time for the usual cleaning and shopping, so my brother and I, both home from college, took it on. (My brother insisted on including Spam on our grocery list, in a bizarre effort to start a new culinary custom, which thankfully failed to catch on. He has recovered from this lapse in taste and now has his own wine cellar.) I made a huge pot of wassail and everyone gathered at my mother's house.

The weekend was full of enchantments. One came at 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve when I went out to get the mail. There, among the last-minute cards and post-holiday sale circulars was a slender package. Inside that package was another slender package, this one gold, filled with thin but rich Swiss chocolates.

It was a gift from Tari who'd recently moved to Switzerland with her researcher husband. As I pulled it from the mail box, I noticed the air smelled of balsam and wood smoke and I could hear in the distance Christmas music from a church carillan. And I had chocolate. Swiss chocolate. What a gift!

(Those were the days when quality chocolate ws hard to find in small towns. Times have changed: See Lydia's "Bittersweet Chocolate" post at The Perfect Pantry. She includes a dandy recipe for truffles.)

Tari's thoughtful gift helped make Christmas brighter that year. It was one of many simple but memorable moments, each of them gifts at a difficult time.

I have since learned to cherish these gifts above all others.