The Chocolate Interview I'll Never Forget, or An Afternoon Well Spent . . . (Perfectly Velvety Dark Chocolate Brownies)

Have I ever told you about my most surreal chocolate experience? The one that seemed both incredible and incredibly strange at the same time? NO? Well, that's an oversight we must remedy, so get cozy.

It all began about three years ago. One wintery afternoon, with nothing better to do, I took an online survey on one of those market-research sites. The kind of site where they compensate you for a few minutes of your time by giving you points that eventually add up into something like a magazine subscription. Anyway, the survey was all about chocolate--how you use it, where you buy it, what brands you like, and so on.

At the end of the survey another question appeared on the screen, inquiring if I'd be willing to participate in further research on the same topic. Naturally, I clicked yes, as it would never occur to a chocolate junkie to click otherwise. One day later, I received a call from a market research company here in southeastern Michigan. A perky female voice asked me if I'd like to be a research subject in an "in-depth, face-to-face, marketing study" all about chocolate. At that point, I'm pretty sure time stood still. I looked at the phone. Was I having an auditory hallucination? A chocolate study? Were they kidding, I asked? No, this was serious, the voice replied. Count me in, I thought. Gathering my composure, I told the woman I was intrigued and she went on to explain how the study would work.

It would take no more than a couple of hours of my time and they would compensate me with a payment of  $135 dollars. So far so good, right? Then she remarked that the study would need to take place in my home. In my home? My little 1948 bungalow?? Yes, she confirmed. At that point I began to wonder if the whole thing was on the up and up. It just seemed awfully far-fetched to me that any company would actually send researchers into someone's house to sit at their kitchen table and gab about the mysteries of chocolate. Was I going to let these folks in the front door, only to be sold into slavery? Would they clobber me over the head and steal all the premium chocolate chips in my pantry? I just didn't know what to make of it.

But after hearing more, and confirming the legitimacy of the company, I agreed to do it and we set up the appointment. My house, 1pm on a weekday, and I should expect four people to show up. At some point  in the second half of the appointment, we would all drive to a local store of my choosing--a place where I might typically buy chocolate--and continue our  discussion there.

The day of the visit, I was nervous. I'd also been told they'd be filming the entire interview and that they'd ask me to show them where in my house I "like to enjoy chocolate." I tidied the joint up as if it were going to be inspected by the health department. I fussed over what to wear. What does one wear for a chocolate interview? I had no idea, settling on an outfit that was nice but decidedly casual.

And so it commences . . .

They arrived on time. Three women and one man. The first woman was very young and spoke barely a word the entire time; I surmised she must have been a marketing intern who was strictly present to observe. Next was an energetic thirty-something gal who directed the activity--clearly the ring leader. She was followed in by a tall brunette with a kind face, who looked to be about my age; and, finally,there was a plump man well into his fifties with a bushy mustache, who would smile warmly throughout the entire event  (no doubt a fellow chocolate lover, I assumed). They were laden with two or three small shopping bags bulging with packaged chocolate--bars, bite size pieces, you name it. We settled at my kitchen table, which is also my dining room table (again the joys of the 1948 bungalow), and the intern pulled out a tiny tripod upon which she attached a small video camera; she focused the lens in my direction. Wasting no time, the ring leader launched right in, peppering me with questions, the first several of which I recall answering rather self-consciously. They all peered at me as if I harbored the secrets of the universe.

What was it that I liked so much about chocolate? How did chocolate make me feel? Did I like any certain kind of chocolate more than another and if so, why? This went on for quite a while. Occasionally the man would remove some chocolate from one of the sacks, silently push a particular piece toward me, gesture for me to unwrap it, and then indicate that I should taste it. What did I think of it? Would I buy it? If not, why not--what was wrong with it? Did the packaging appeal to me? What did the packaging remind me of? Was I familiar with any print or TV commercials for that particular variety of chocolate?

I recall trying some pretty odd flavor combos, perhaps the least appealing of which was a dark chocolate filled with a syrupy banana-flavored substance. Most of the packaged chocolates they'd brought carried mainstream brand names like Hershey, Dove, and Lindt, but some of the more unique and specific candy varieties seemed new and unusual. As we chatted, it became clear at one point that the man and the tall woman were both from out of state, and I realized that they must each represent a major chocolate manufacturer, though when I asked what companies they were associated with they both declined to divulge and coyly redirected the conversation.

The interview continued. Where might I typically be sitting, standing, or reclining in my house when I nibbled a piece of chocolate? Well, I said, I might very likely be curled up on a couch in the living room with something to read, along with a fresh cup of coffee. Would I, they entreated, demonstrate this exact scenario for them? Fully in the spirit of things now, I gamely kicked off my shoes, picked up a magazine, grabbed an empty coffee mug and a piece of their chocolate, and sat in my favorite corner of the loveseat. They filmed this, of course--all of them standing at a safe distance and gazing at me almost misty-eyed, as if I were a mother cheetah in a zoo grooming her newborn cub. Then they wanted to see where I stored the chocolate in my house that I used primarily for baking, so I opened the kitchen cupboard that houses those ingredients and they all leaned in closely as if they were witnessing some sort of anthropological marvel: the middle-aged American woman's baking supplies in their natural habitat--how fascinating!

True to their word, as the interview wound down we all tromped out to their car (something large, black, and shiny) and motored to a gourmet market about a mile or so away. There, I directed them to the chocolate displays and the area of the store where pricey handmade chocolate candies were sold by weight from a glass case. I remember expressing the opinion that I thought Godiva chocolates were beautifully packaged but were not nearly as good as  they used to be. At that confession the plump male out-of-towner nodded vigorously in an expression of emphatic agreement; I felt we bonded in that moment. I showed them the heavy Callebaut chocolate blocks I occasionally purchased from the store to use for baking--rough, hefty, untempered shards that were cut from a huge block. They browsed around for a while with studied interest and bought an eclectic selection of several high-end chocolate bars before we all left the store.

Back at my house they asked me to sign a couple of forms, handed me a check to reimburse me for my time, and  thanked me warmly for my cooperation.

Then they gave me the entire bag of chocolate they'd just purchased.

All in all, it was an afternoon very well spent, and almost like something from a dream.

Perfectly Velvety Dark Chocolate Brownies . . .
with Milk Chocolate Chips
*This is an original recipe of Jane's, not adapted from any other published source.
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Line an 8"x8" or a 9"x9" pan with parchment. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 scant teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup of unsalted butter, melted
3 oz. good quality dark chocolate, melted

2/3 cup natural cocoa powder
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature, lightly beaten to break them up
1 and 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup (liquid measure) half & half, room temperature
2/3 cup good quality milk chocolate chips (optional; if you prefer less sweet brownies, leave them out, but keep in mind that the brownie batter is not very sweet to begin with)

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, stir together the melted butter and melted chocolate.

In another bowl, whisk together the sugar and the cocoa powder; add this into the bowl of melted butter and chocolate, stirring well until completely combined. Then add in the eggs and vanilla extract, stirring these in completely. Now add in all of the half & half, stirring until it's all well mixed in. Scrape the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed.

Add all of the wet chocolate mixture into the large bowl of flour and stir just until it's all mixed together and no longer. Pour the chocolate chips into the batter and gently mix them in using the rubber spatula, just enough to distribute them throughout.

Pour all of the batter into your parchment-lined pan, spreading it out evenly. Bake on the middle rack of your oven for about 20 minutes, until the brownies feel somewhat firm on top, and a toothpick inserted in the center emerges looking mostly clean. Let them cool in the pan, on a rack, for about 5 minutes before removing them to finish cooling on a rack.

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Black Chocolate Stout Whoopie Pies . . . with Fluffy Stout Cream Filling

I suppose I should begin by telling you that beer, per se, is really not my thing. I never drink the stuff, rarely engage in beer-lingo-laden conversations about it, and have never--not even once--craved a cold glass of it. But I acknowledge that there's beer and then there's beer, and a fine quality black chocolate stout, I must concede, falls easily into the latter category. At the very least, I am willing to use it as a baking ingredient. While I have no desire to consume the stuff on its own, I realize it's the idea of the stout mingling with pure chocolate in a mixing bowl that excites my bakerly interest. It does smell kind of interesting, and looks kind of wonderful . . . it's oh-so foamy. Yes, I'll put it into cake. Just don't expect me to guzzle it.

My husband, who was once deeply enamored of home-brewing (as evidenced by the fact that I know exactly what a carboy is, and could point you to an old one in our basement), tells me that, in many cases, chocolate stouts don't actually contain any chocolate at all. They get their dark hue and intriguingly bitter flavor from special malts that lend a cocoa-like aspect. I had no idea and felt slightly cheated at that piece of news, so I was relieved to realize that I'd selected a stout for these whoopies--albeit somewhat randomly, from a store display of colorful and chunky bottles--that does indeed claim to contain true chocolate.

I chose Dubious Black Chocolate Stout from North Peak Brewing Company. (North Peak is a young craft brewery and restaurant in Traverse City, Michigan, that's housed in what was once a candy factory. Check it out if you're ever in that neck of the woods.) It clearly had pleasing qualities, obvious even to a non-beer lover like me.

Okay, I'm convinced . . .

If these tasty cream-filled whoopie pies are any indication at all, then chocolate stout and chocolate-chocolate can consort in my mixing bowl any time they want. Try it and you'll see what I mean. Just look what happens, below, when you whisk the two together. Some kind of wild and primitive chemistry ensues. I think maybe it's black magic.

About this recipe . . . 

I adapted these whoopie-pies from Baked Explorations: Classic American Desserts Reinvented, by Matt Lewis & Renato Poliafito (such a lovable cookbook, no question). I altered their basic chocolate whoopie pie formula by using a whole cup of stout for the main liquid instead of half a cup of hot coffee (I know--aren't I daring?). I omitted the espresso powder altogether, and I increased the amount of flour by about 20 percent while ratcheting up the salt just a smidgen. Somehow, these shenanigans all worked out splendidly and the cookie/cakey parts were perfectly suited to their task.

For the filling, I whipped together confectioners sugar, a splash of the stout, a little vanilla-bean paste, unsalted butter, cream cheese, and a dab of heavy cream. Too, too yummy, I tell you what. You have to try these.

Black Chocolate Stout Whoopie Pies 
with Fluffy Stout Cream Filling
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: At least a dozen large whoopie pies.

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and line two or more cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Ingredients for the cookie-cakes:
4 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, unbleached
scant 1/2 tsp. coarse kosher salt
1 and 1/4 tsp. baking powder
1 and 1/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 cup natural cocoa powder (I used Penzey's brand.)
1 cup black chocolate stout, not cold (I used Dubious Black Chocolate Stout from North Peak Brewery.)
2 cups light brown sugar, firmly packed
3/4 cup canola oil
1 egg, large
1 tsp. vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract (I used Nielsen & Massey vanilla paste.)
1/2 cup buttermilk

Ingredients for the fluffy stout cream filling:
3 and 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted or whisked (I recommend Domino's 10x; if you use this, you can get away without sifting.)
2 Tbsp. black chocolate stout
1 tsp. vanilla bean paste or vanilla extract
1/2 cup unsaltened butter, room temperature
1/2 cup cream cheese, room temperature
1 and 1/2 Tbsp. heavy cream

To prepare the whoopies:

Whisk the flour, salt, baking power, and baking soda in a medium size bowl, then set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk the cocoa powder to break up lumps. Pour in the black chocolate stout and whisk until it's well mixed.

In another medium size bowl, stir together the brown sugar and the oil. Pour this into the large bowl with the chocolate mixture. Add into that the egg, vanilla, and buttermilk. Whisk until very well combined. Carefully fold in the flour, using a rubber spatula, scraping the bowl as needed.

Then, I recommend letting the batter sit for about ten minutes. It sort of thickens a bit as the dry ingredients absorb the moisture and it becomes easier to scoop.

Use an ice cream scoop to portion the batter onto the parchment sheets, leaving at least an inch for each whoopie to spread out when it bakes. (I used a number 24 scoop; that holds 3 tablespoons. Feel free to make them smaller if you like, reducing baking time accordingly.)

Bake each tray for about 12 minutes, just until the whoopies look completely dry on top and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out mostly clean. Cool the whoopies on the parchment for a few minutes, then use a thin metal spatula to remove them to a cooling rack. They may stick a bit, even on the parchment, so be careful when you're lifting them off of it.

Once they're completely cool, assemble your whoopie pies either by spreading the filling on with an offset spatula or by using a pastry bag. Store the filled whoopies well covered (I put them on a half sheet tray that was first covered with parchment, then laid a loose sheet of parchment atop that, then covered it all with plastic wrap.) You may want to keep them chilled until ready to serve, as the filling can become quite soft.

To prepare the fluffy stout cream filling:

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment, beat the butter and cream cheese until soft and well combined. On the lowest speed, add in the confectioners' sugar, a cup or so at a time until the sugar is all mixed in. Add in the stout, vanilla bean paste or extract, and heavy cream. Beat on medium-high speed for a couple of minutes, until light and fluffy. If the filling seems too warm and soft, chill it before filling the whoopies.

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Chocolate Fudge Layer Cake with Vanilla Buttercream and Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache . . .

Last week in my Bakery Merchandising class, my fellow students and I spent hours preparing for a sale in the culinary school's retail bakery. One of my duties included piping huge swirls of fluffy vanilla buttercream onto dozens of yellow cupcakes, chilling them until firm, then suspending them upside down, one by one, and dipping them into a deep bowl of warm chocolate ganache.

At first my task progressed smoothly, but then the big white swirls started plopping off as I lifted the cold cupcakes out of the chocolate. Cursing under my breath with each failed attempt, I nervously fished out big globs of buttercream--once, twice, three times. Speed was of the essence that day and, not wanting to gum up the works, I took immediate steps to remedy the problem. Soldiering on, I carefully refrosted some of the cupcakes, chilled them longer, rewarmed the ganache, and crossed my fingers.

Meanwhile, directly across from me a much younger student, who told me she'd been working in a bakery since high school, was deftly enrobing iced layer cakes in ganache. I kept glancing over as she ladled the fluid chocolate atop each cake, letting it move languidly down the sides before picking up a small offset spatula to cover any bare spots. Her sense of calm bordered on the meditative, and her technique produced beautiful results.

It made me want to do the same thing at home. Damn the cupcakes, I said to myself, full speed ahead with a big round layer cake in my own kitchen. 

Thus was the inspiration for today's cake. (A cake that would, I believe, make a sensational Valentine's Day dessert!)

About this recipe . . . 

From the book Welcome to Junior's! Remembering Brooklyn with Recipes and Memories from its Favorite Restaurant, this fudge cake is moist and densely textured. The recipe actually produces three hefty layers, but they were each so tall and obviously substantive, I decided to save and freeze the third one. If I'd actually used all three layers the iced and coated cake would probably have been 10" tall. (If you need a truly lofty layer cake, go ahead and use all three.) The vanilla buttercream recipe is also adapted from Junior's. The decision to apply a luxurious dark-chocolate ganache over the whole thing was, as you know, quite my own.

I bought this book last April in Junior's Restaurant (the one in Times Square) during a trip to NYC, and I have to admit I'm pretty fond of it (the book, yes, and also the restaurant!). My family and I visited Junior's twice while we were there, one night just for dessert (that famous cheesecake, of course), and again on our last morning in town before heading to the airport. We'd finished breakfast and were getting up to leave when it hit me that I could not exit Manhattan without my own copy, bright stacks of which were displayed near the entrance. Along with solid recipes, this volume offers an honest and deeply affectionate homage to Brooklyn--as it was decades ago, and as it is now. It's full of historical tidbits that are pretty engrossing for anyone who's interested in the evolution of a classic, family-owned, American restaurant. I began reading it at the airport, while awaiting our flight, and hardly put it down until our plane landed back in Detroit. I used one of Junior's cute paper coasters as my bookmark.

Chocolate Fudge Layer Cake with Vanilla Buttercream 
and Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Makes one large, tall, 3-layer cake that, when iced and ganached, could probably serve 20 or more people.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter three round 9"x2" cake pans, place parchment paper circles in the bottom, and then butter the parchment (it's easiest to do this with a pastry brush, and do use unsalted butter). Place a rack in the middle of your oven.

Ingredients for the cake layers:

3 cups cake flour
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 generous teaspoon of coarse kosher salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened to room temp.
1/2 cup vegetable shortening 
1 and 1/2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
7 large eggs, not cold
9 oz. bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled to lukewarm
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
2 and 1/4 cups milk (I used 2 percent.)

Onto parchment, or into a medium size bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt, and baking soda.

In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on high speed, cream together the butter, shortening, granulated sugar, and brown sugar. Beat for several minutes, until the mixture turns light yellow. Scrape the bowl and beaters. Again on high speed, add in the eggs one at a time, beating for a couple of minutes after each addition. Stop and scrape the bowl and beaters.

Pour in all of the chocolate and vanilla, and continue mixing on high speed for up to 20 minutes. (Yes, I said 20 minutes--that's what the instructions indicate, and that's what I did. The batter is quite fluffy when you're done with this step.) Take the bowl off of the mixer now, and gently scrape again with your spatula.

Now, sift one quarter of the dry mixture over the batter and carefully stir (as opposed to just folding, which you will be inclined to do) it in. Then pour in one third of the milk, stirring to blend. Continue in this fashion, until you've incorporated all the flour and milk, stirring well after each addition.

Portion the batter equally into the three prepared pans, and smooth it out. Gently tap each pan on your work surface to help release air bubbles. Bake the pans side by side on the middle rack, but don't let them touch each other. (The cookbook suggests delaying the baking of one layer if you don't have an oven large enough to accomplish this, rather than baking one of the layers on an upper- or lower rack.)


Bake the layers for about 30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center of each one comes out clean, and the sides of the cakes just begin to pull away from the sides of the pan. Cool the layers on racks for 30 minutes before inverting them onto racks (and removing any parchment still stuck to them) to finish cooling.

Ingredients for Vanilla Buttercream Frosting:

2 lbs. (8 cups) of confectioners' sugar, well sifted (I always use Domino's 10x for frosting. Much less lumpy than the cheaper stuff.)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 and 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1/2 cup margarine or high-ratio shortening, not cold (I did not use margarine, which the original recipe indicates. Instead, I used Sweetex, which is a "high-ratio" shortening typically used by cake decorators. Trans-fat free, it adds stability to frostings--ie., helps them hold up without softening in warm temps--and doesn't lend a greasy mouth-feel the way vegetable shortening can. It also helps make frosting easier to spread. You can buy it at cake decorating supply stores, but be forewarned that it's not cheap.)
2 Tbsp. light corn syrup
1 Tbsp. and 2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 scant tsp. almond extract
1/2 cup heavy cream, not too cold

Onto a parchment sheet, or into a large bowl, sift together the confectioners' sugar and the salt, being sure to break up out any stubborn sugar lumps. In the large bowl of your electric mixer, using the paddle attachment on high speed, cream together the butter and margarine/Sweetex; beat for about three minutes, until light yellow. Still on high speed, add in the corn syrup and vanilla. Stop and scrape the beaters and bowl. Now on low speed, add the sugar in two additions, beating well after each one. Pour in the cream and blend until the frosting seems of reasonable spreading consistency; if it seems too thick, add in more cream as needed, a teaspoon or so at a time. Keep the frosting tightly covered until you're ready to use it. If you won't be using it within a couple of hours, cover and refrigerate it. 

Ingredients for the Bittersweet Chocolate Ganache:

8-10 oz. good quality dark chocolate (I tend to use Ghirardelli if I don't want to spend a fortune. If I'm flush with cash, I'm more likely to use Callebaut, and more rarely Valrhona. Bittersweet ganache works well with this cake since it balances the sweetness of the buttercream frosting.)
5-6 oz. heavy cream (The amount can vary a little bit, depending upon how soft you want your ganache to be.)
2 tsp. soft unsalted butter

Chop the chocolate into small pieces and place it in a heatproof bowl.

In a small sauce pan, heat the cream slowly until it simmers. Pour it over the chocolate, add the butter, and do not stir. Let the mixture sit undisturbed for a couple of minutes. Stir until the chocolate is obviously completely melted; don't whisk, as you don't want to add bubbles. As the ganache begins to cool, you'll be able to get an idea of its texture. If it seems it will be too thick to ladle onto your cake, stir in a little bit more warm cream, adjusting as needed. If you won't be using the ganache right away, keep it well covered in the fridge. It can be warmed up in a double boiler, or gradually in the microwave if watched very closely. 


To assemble the cake:

Place your first layer of cake on a cardboard cake-circle so you can more easily lift and move it; this will be a big help when it comes time to add the ganache coating. Frost the top of the bottom layer.  Frost the top of the middle layer. Frost the top of the top layer and the sides of the cake as smoothly as you can, ideally with an offset spatula. It doesn't matter too much if some crumbs show through in the frosting at this point since the cake will be covered in chocolate, but any obvious lumps should be smoothed out to ensure a nice finish. 

Place the cake, still on its cardboard circle, over a cake rack that's been placed atop a rimmed baking sheet. 


When your ganache is at the right consistency (it should drip easily from a ladle, like a very pourable gravy), ladle it directly onto the top center of the cake, letting it spread out and drip down the sides. The excess ganache will drip off the bottom edges of the cake onto your baking sheet (that excess can be saved and used again, assuming it doesn't contain crumbs, etc.). Use a small, metal, offset spatula to smooth out, and dab delicately at, any bare spots on the top and sides of the cake; work fairly quickly since the ganache will start to set up as it cools. Let the ganache-covered cake sit on the cooling rack over the baking sheet until the ganache seems somewhat firm. Move the cake onto its serving plate, sliding a firm metal spatula beneath it to help lift it up off the cooling rack. Before serving, add on any decorations you prefer (whipped cream swirls, piped frosting, chocolate-dipped strawberries, whatever you like).

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Triple Chocolate Espresso Cheesecake . . . (What You Really Want for Christmas)

I have, for weeks now, been in the throes of cleaning out my late parents' house in preparation for putting it on the market. I'm finally very close to being done, and I look forward to having more free time for holiday baking before Christmas is upon us. When you're sorting through the household miscellany, memorabilia, and detritus of a household that was occupied for 56 years by the same folks, you tend to encounter a few surprises--some extraordinarily wonderful, and others of the sort that will just have you scratching your head.

On the delightful side, I found a shoe-box sized container, tucked away in a seldom-visited closet, that was chock full of love notes from my father to my mother, most of them written in the months preceding their wedding day. Penned or typewritten on yellowed sheets of office scrap paper (they'd worked for the same company), the notes are without exception idealistic, funny, tender, and adoring. I can see why my mom saved every single one.

Toward the odder end of the spectrum, I found more springform pans than any one woman could use or destroy in a lifetime. I knew there were several stashed here and there in that house, having already adopted a couple of them when my mom first passed away, but I don't think I ever realized the true profusion that she'd accumulated over the years. She'd clearly been on a decades-long hunt for the perfect springform pan, relegating her cast-offs to the basement as she procured new and improved versions.

Some women of her era collected figurines and knick-knacks. She collected baking paraphernalia. And she did have a solid reputation for making truly fine cheesecakes--no doubt about that--so I guess she invested wisely.

About this recipe . . .

In celebration of that multitude of springform pans, I offer up this dark, dense, chocolate espresso cheesecake recipe. Where is it from? Well, you may laugh when I tell you that I adapted it from a recipe printed on a promotional wall calendar that came from an old-fashioned Italian bakery, in this neck of the woods, called Julian Bros. It turned out exceptionally well and I served it as one of the dessert options on Thanksgiving. If you love dark chocolate and coffee, you'll undoubtedly enjoy this cheesecake. If you prefer sweeter chocolate and don't care for coffee, make it exclusively with semi-sweet chocolate and omit the espresso powder altogether.

Triple Chocolate Espresso Cheesecake

(For a printable version of of this recipe, click here!)

Have ready one 9" x 3" springform pan. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees if you're using a dark-surfaced pan, and to 325 if you're not.

2 and 1/2 cups finely crushed chocolate graham-cracker crumbs
1/2 tsp. almond extract
1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp. malted butter (I used unsalted.)
1 scant pinch of kosher salt
8 oz. of good quality dark chocolate (Avoid using chocolate chips.)
4 oz. of good quality semi-sweet baking chocolate (Again, avoid using chocolate chips.)

4 eight-oz. packages (2 lbs. total) of cream cheese, softened and no cooler than room temperature (Use a thick, reliable cream cheese like Philadelphia brand.)
3 large eggs, at room temperature (Important that they're not at all cold; you can warm them quickly from the fridge, in their shells, by placing them in a bowl of very warm water for a few minutes.)
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. fine espresso powder (Or more, but only if you're completely crazy about this stuff.)
3 Tbsp. heavy cream (at room temperature)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

One 2 to 3 oz. chunk of milk chocolate, if you'd like to decorate the top of the baked cake with curls.

In a medium size bowl, toss the chocolate graham cracker crumbs with the salt; add in the melted butter and the almond extract, mixing with a fork until the crumbs are all moistened. Dump the mixture into your springform pan and press it firmly and evenly onto the bottom of the pan and an inch or so up the sides (don't worry if the sides aren't of even height all around). Set aside.

In a small bowl, whisk together the sugar and the espresso powder. Set aside.

Slowly melt the dark and semi-sweet chocolate together. This can be done in the microwave if you're very watchful and careful, heating for several seconds, then checking and stirring, repeatedly. Or, melt the chocolate in a double boiler on the stove top over low heat, being vigilant that not a single drop of water gets into the chocolate. Keep the melted chocolate slightly warm; it needs to be fluid but not hot when it's eventually added into the cheesecake batter.

In the large bowl of your mixer, on low speed, beat the cream cheese for a few minutes until smooth. If it still feels at all cold, keep slowly beating until it's truly room temperature. Into this, add the melted chocolate, still on low speed. Pour in the sugar mixture and the heavy cream, beating now on low-medium speed until well blended (you don't want to beat so quickly that you add air into the batter). One at a time, add in the eggs on low speed, beating until they're completely incorporated (perhaps a minute for each egg). Add in the vanilla extract.

Pour the batter into the springform pan over the crust. Bake in the middle of the oven, uncovered and without a water bath (believe it or not!), for approximately 40 to 50 minutes. Remove from the oven when the surface looks slightly dry and the cake still visibly jiggles in the center; don't overbake. Remove the cake from the oven carefully and let it first start to cool in a fairly warm spot, like atop the stove, on a rack. Leave it there to cool for at least an hour before moving it to a cooler spot to cool completely. Refrigerate the cake for at least several hours or overnight, still in its springform pan. Before removing the sides of the pan from the cake, run an extremely thin metal spatula around the upper half of the sides to help loosen it.

Decorate the cake top before serving with milk chocolate curls. Make the curls using a vegetable peeler and a chunk of chocolate that's room temperate or slightly warmer. The curls are very delicate, so don't touch them with your fingers if you can help it. Lift them onto the cake with a thin metal spatula, or something equally unlikely to break them.

Chocolate-Almond Filled Coffee Braid . . . and that Music in the Distance

A few days ago, as I sat in the same spot where I am now, windows open and the cool autumn air breezing in, I could hear my younger son's high school marching band practicing in the distance. They were already outside the school at 8 a.m., their band class well underway, polishing things up for their next performance. Though at least half a mile east of my house, I could clearly hear the telltale thump of the percussion players and the brassy wail of the trumpets.

I love this kind of thing.

I love the fact that I live in a city small and compact enough that this is even possible. From the other direction, to the northwest just a couple of blocks, I can also hear little kids squealing at recess later in the day, outside of the elementary school my boys attended years ago. Then, each evening precisely at 6pm, bells reliably ring out from a church nearby. It's a cozy feeling.

This comparatively tiny community that we occupy just north of Detroit is, in fact, remarkably unlike the huge suburb where I grew up, which was sprawling and seemed to me, back then at least, to be a rather characterless place that had no discernible center.

It's comforting living in a small place, especially when bigger cities and all they offer aren't far away. You never have to feel lost here, either literally or figuratively. It's practically impossible to go outside without seeing someone you know well enough to chat with or, at the very least, someone you recognize. This little metropolis isn't fancy by any means but, as corny and cliche as this must sound, it's loaded with heart.



And what does that preamble have to do with today's recipe? Well, if I hadn't been alone in my kitchen with the windows open, working quietly on this chocolate almond braid, I wouldn't have heard that music or the joyous shrieks and squeals later in the day. Nor would I have had yet another opportunity to experience the simple satisfaction of actually liking where I live.

And, so, once more I realize that baking offers benefits beyond the obvious. It can be calming and contemplative, sort of like gardening or taking a long walk. I don't think it would be stretching it to say that I find the activity of baking restorative. I seem to turn to it for all sorts of reasons.

Is it like that for you, too?

About this recipe . . .

Remember the collapse of that giant bookshelf I told you about in my last post? That event catalyzed my husband and I to do long overdue sorting, discarding, and reorganizing. (Let's just say the garbage man must be wondering what the heck happened around here, and my paper shredder is considering joining a labor union.) Anyway, while sorting this and that, I found a faded magazine clipping bearing this recipe among a pile of stuff I'd saved in an old file cabinet. From the February 1989 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine, this is the kind of baked good that many such magazines don't seem to print anymore. It's beautifully old-fashioned, like something one of your favorite aunts would famously bring to big family parties when you were a kid. It's a not-too-sweet yeast bread filled with a mixture made of cream cheese, almond paste, and semi-sweet chocolate.

I changed very little in the recipe, but substantially reworded it to reflect exactly how I customized its preparation. I used an instant yeast specifically designed for rich, sweet doughs vs. regular active dry yeast (though I have no doubt it would be fine with the latter). Part of my almond paste was homemade vs. purchased, because I only had about 5 oz. of the store-bought stuff on hand. (I do think professionally produced almond paste tastes better, is more concentrated, and has better texture and color than most homemade versions. I haven't yet perfected making the stuff at home.)

Beware: This makes a really large loaf! You will get at least 16 very generous slices out of this baby, easy. And it's not shaped into a real braid--it's just a faux braid, so don't get scared; it's really easy to make. The loaf I made was probably 18" long and 7" wide, after baking. Next time, I might cut the dough in half and make two smaller loaves, though the big loaf is certainly impressive in its own enormous way!

Chocolate-Almond Coffee Braid
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Makes one large 18" loaf (at least 16 thick slices).

For the dough:
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt (I used coarse kosher.)
1 and 3/4 tsp. instant yeast (I always use instant, but it's fine to use 1 pkt. active dry yeast instead.)
Approx. 5 cups all-purpose flour (I used unbleached.)
3/4 cup milk (I used 2 percent.)
5 Tbsp. butter, unsalted
2 eggs, large

1 egg white (to mix with water and brush on the unbaked loaf)
2 oz. semi-sweet baking chocolate (to melt and drizzle on the baked loaf)


For the chocolate-almond filling
8 oz. cream cheese, softened
7 to 8 oz. almond paste (not the same thing as marzipan, just fyi!)
1 egg yolk
3 oz. of semi-sweet baking chocolate, chopped into very small pieces
 

For the streusel topping: 
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp. granulated sugar
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter, room temperature
3 Tbsp. sliced almonds


To prepare the dough:


In the large bowl of your mixer, using the paddle attachment on low speed, combine the sugar, salt, yeast, and 1 cup of the flour.

In a microwave safe bowl, or on the stove top in a saucepan, slightly warm the milk, butter, and 1/4 cup of water until just lukewarm. You don't need to fully melt the butter. With the mixer on low speed, pour the liquid into the dry ingredients; beat only until blended. Now at medium speed, beat for about 2 minutes, stopping to scrape now and then. Beat in the eggs, along with 2 more cups of the flour; blend for 2 minutes.

Remove the bowl from the mixer, and add in 1 and 1/2 cups more of the flour, stirring by hand with a wooden spoon or a dough whisk (I love my dough whisk). The dough will be pretty soft.

Flour your work surface and dump the dough onto it.

Keep 1/2 cup of flour close at hand. Knead the dough until its texture is smooth and elastic, adding more flour to your surface and to the dough as needed; this could take up to ten minutes. (If you decide to do this step on your mixer, using the dough hook, cut the kneading time in half. Be watchful, in any case, not to overwork the dough. You'll know you've gone too far if the dough suddenly seems slack, lifeless, and lacks elasticity; if this happens, the dough can't be salvaged and there is nothing to be done but to start over. Over-mixing is more likely to occur with a rich dough like this than with a lean dough like that for a simple white bread.)

Round the dough into a ball and place it into a well-greased or oiled bowl, or spray the bowl with vegetable oil spray, like Pam--that's what I use. Turn the ball over in the bowl so it's coated. Spray/grease a sheet of plastic wrap on one side and put that, sprayed side down, over the bowl.

Cover the whole thing with a lightweight dish towel and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise. The dough should approximately double in size within about one hour.

While the dough is rising, make the chocolate-almond filling and the streusel. 

To make the chocolate-almond filling:
Put the cream cheese, almond paste (broken into chunks), and 1 egg yolk into the large bowl of your mixer. Using the paddle attachment, blend together until on low speed until the mixture smooths out. Add  the chopped chocolate and blend it in. Store the filling in the refrigerator until you're ready to use it.

To make the streusel:
Mix the flour, sugar, and butter together in a small bowl using your fingers. You want the streusel to look like big, coarse, uneven crumbs. Add in the sliced almonds last, being careful not to break all them into bits. Store the streusel in the fridge until ready to use.

When the dough has doubled in size: 
Dump the risen dough out onto a very lightly floured surface and press it firmly but gently with the palms of your hands. You are just trying to deflate it (or "de-gas" it as a baking teacher would tell you!). Lightly cover the deflated dough with the greased plastic wrap and let it rest for 10 to 15 minutes.

Prepare your workspace for rolling out the dough. You can roll it right on a large baking sheet if you prefer, but I wanted to roll out my dough on the piece of parchment on which it would actually bake (you can then just slide the whole thing, paper and all, right onto your baking sheet). To keep the parchment from sliding around, I clipped the edge of it to my worktable with a big, strong, binder clip.

Flour your rolling pin. Put the rested dough onto your surface and roll the dough into a rounded rectangle about 16" long and 12" wide.

Remove your filling from the fridge, give it a good stir, and spread all of it in a 4" strip down the center of the dough, lengthwise.

Using a pizza/pastry wheel, cut slits in the dough on each side, almost up to the point of the filling (the strips created by the slits can be narrow or wide, as you prefer; my strips were slightly over 1/2" wide).

Then, starting at the top, lifting the strips one by one alternately from each side, fold them over the filling. Do this for the whole length of the loaf, then pinch the two far ends tightly closed with your fingers.

Cover the loaf again with greased/sprayed plastic wrap and cover it with the dish towel. Let it rise again (ie., let it "proof") in a warm spot; this time for 30 minutes. It will expand, but not necessarily by much. Don't wait for it to double in size.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

Mix the egg white in a little bowl with a tablespoon or two of water. Using a pastry brush, gently and lightly coat the unbaked loaf when it's done proofing (that is, when it's done with its final rise).

Sprinkle all of the streusel evenly in a strip down the center length of the loaf.

Bake the loaf on a large sheet pan (it will expand in the oven, so plan accordingly!) for about 30 minutes, until it's golden all over. Check it about 20 minutes into the baking time and, if it's browning quickly, cover it lightly with foil. Also, reverse the pan from back to front for more even heat and color.

When the loaf is done, let it cool on the pan for a few minutes, then move it to a cooling rack. When the loaf is cooled, melt the semi-sweet chocolate carefully in the microwave (chocolate burns really quickly), and pour it into a zip-lock sandwich bag. Using a sharp pair of scissors, cut an extremely tiny hole in one of the corners of the bag. Cut it just enough to let a dinky little stream of chocolate flow through when you squeeze the bag. Drizzle the chocolate back and forth over the entire loaf.

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