THE DISCOVERY OF CHOCOLATE by James Runcie, with 2 ways to make chocolate cake as God intended

Five years ago I learned about Cook the Books, an online book club featuring not only books about food, but people who read those books and invent recipes inspired by them. One of those people even wins a prize. What could be more fun?

Back then they asked David and me to judge contributions based on Andrea Camilleri's The Shape of Water (the book, not the current movie by the same name, which bears no relation to it). Here's what we decided, and wrote.

Ever since, I've been reading their bimonthly emails announcing more books and more recipes. In February I noticed that they were featuring The Discovery of Chocolate by James Runcie (author of the books that inspired Grantchester, for you James Norton and Masterpiece fans), so I immediately ordered it. If, in the intervening weeks, I hadn't also acquired a new puppy, had a family reunion, celebrated 50 years of marriage, and survived Easter while being married to a church music director, I might have blogged about The Discovery of Chocolate in time to join their contest.  I liked the book more than any of their contestants did (and I'll tell you why), and I have a couple of killer chocolate recipes.

About the book:
I've read a lot of comments from people who hated it, or were mystified by it, or were bored by it, or thought it should have been written differently. As a former editor who helped authors develop their books in hopes of getting people to buy them, I respect those comments. Runcie's book fits no categories - not even magical realism, which many commenters think it is. It could be a hard sell.

But as a big fan of Voltaire's Candide, I chuckled all the way through Runcie's mash-up of impossible stories.* Candide is a classic and The Discovery of Chocolate is a bit of fluff, but both books are wickedly funny, both authors wink as they toss out allusions for readers to recognize, and both sweetly expose cruelty, pomposity, and hypocrisy through the naïve observations of their credulous protagonists.

Like Candide, Diego voyages throughout the world, having one bizarre adventure after another. Both characters are inspired by love, and both witness actual historical events. Unlike Candide, however, Diego also voyages through time. He's a gourmand, not a philosopher. He ends up at a Día de los Muertos festival, not in a garden. And he has a dog.

Also, the book is about chocolate.

About chocolate:
There's something called red velvet cake that I didn't discover until I moved to Maryland. Apparently it's a Southern thing. They think it's chocolatey. It is not.

There's something called a Texas sheet cake that is slightly more chocolatey, but it's still pretty wimpy.

Chocolate, my friends, can be assertive and even rough. It can be deep and rich and smooth. But it should never be bashful. It should never be milky, for heaven's sake. And it's not about the sugar. Cocoa content of 72% is good, but 85% is better, and 100% is just fine with a bit of coarse salt. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

[Flourless chocolate cakelet.
Raspberries and candle are optional.]

Back in 2009, I posted a recipe for a seriously fortified Texas sheet cake. The previous year I posted a recipe for flourless chocolate cakelets, whose chocolate content is even more intense. Both recipes still work. Try them. I can't promise that they'll make you immune to death, like Diego's elixir in The Discovery of Chocolate, but who knows?

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*Clarification: I have degrees in French; Runcie earned a first in English from Cambridge University. I'll bet he was thinking, not of Candide (1759), but of Gulliver's Travels (1726). It's possible that Voltaire was thinking of Gulliver's Travels too--he was living in England when it was published. Take your pick. The point is, The Discovery of Chocolate is an 18th-century novel with sly 21st-century allusions. And it's about chocolate.

Let's talk about food: Chocolate Cake

Someone has just offered you a big piece of chocolate cake. What do you say?

--Oh, I shouldn't.

--Could you give me just half a piece?

--I'll diet tomorrow. 

Chocolate = Guilt. Shame. Regret.

Right?
Unless, of course, it's your second birthday.
Or unless you've been reading your Bible about food.

"Let us eat and celebrate."
Luke 15.23

"Eat what is good,
and delight yourselves in rich food."
Isaiah 55.2

"Feasts are made for laughter."
Ecclesiastes 10.19

So when did we trade celebration for guilt, delight for shame, laughter for regret?

What did Jesus mean when he said, "Unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 18.3)?

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This is the first of a series of short posts especially for people who attend St Barnabas Episcopal Church in Glen Ellyn, IL, where I'll be leading conversations about food on September 22, September 29, and October 6. I'll be posting about food every weekday between September 16 and October 4.

If you love serious chocolate but are not a chocolate snob...

Give me a recipe involving chocolate, and I'll automatically double the amount of cocoa powder, switch from milk or semisweet to dark chocolate, and throw in a broken-up extra-dark chocolate bar for good measure. When it comes to chocolate, I don't mess around.

Which is why I decided to go hunting for the best extra-dark chocolate bar that is readily available. I don't mean those wimpy 72% cacao creations--I wanted a bar that was at least 85% chocolate. Nor did I want a bar that cost more than 6 cents a gram or that had to be specially ordered online. I was looking for something I could buy whenever a chocolate craving hijacked my brain cells.

I do not claim to have found the paragon I sought. Why would I want to? The joy is in the journey, not the destination. But here are some observations about four extra-dark chocolate bars that may well be available at a grocery store in your neighborhood. And if they aren't, please check out the ones that are, and let me know what you find!

#4 Lindt-Sprüngli Excellence, 100g, 12.5% sugar, $3.85
I had high hopes for this bar. I had a profound relationship with Lindt-Sprüngli the year I was 16 years old and living in France, right across from the Swiss border. And I do love Lindor truffles, even if they aren't quite dark enough. Besides, the Excellence ingredient list is pure and simple: chocolate, cocoa powder, cocoa butter, demerara sugar, bourbon vanilla beans.

Hélas, the Excellence bar disappointed. My first impression was that I was chewing wax. After 10 or 15 seconds, the chocolate flavor finally appeared, and it wasn't bad: a bit spicy, a bit fruity. But as soon as I swallowed, it went back to wherever it hides when I'm eating my vegetables. I'm not going to give up on Lindt products just yet, however: they also make a 90% bar (same ingredients) and even a 99% bar (cocoa mass, cocoa powder, cocoa butter, brown sugar).

#3 Ghirardelli Midnight Reverie, 90g, 11.1% sugar, $4.55
Higher price, smaller size. More chocolate, less sugar. This one should be fantastic, right? Well, it wasn't bad. Unlike the Lindt-Sprüngli bar, Midnight Reverie was neither waxy nor brittle, though it also started out tasteless. The chocolate flavor, which hinted of berries, developed a few seconds later, but not as late as with the Excellence bar. Contrary to the label's claim, unfortunately, the flavor was not intense. In fact, this could be a good starter bar for people who prefer milk chocolate but are switching to dark for health reasons.

Dark-chocolate purists might find the ingredients list distressingly long, with unnecessary additions: Midnight Reverie contains chocolate, cocoa butter, sugar, milk fat, soy lecithin, vanilla, and natural flavor.

#2 Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Lover's Chocolate Bar, 100g, 12.5% sugar, $1.49
At 1.5 cents a gram, this is without a doubt the best value for serious chocolate lovers! But then, what serious chocolate lover ranks ecstasy by cost?

The Dark Chocolate Lover's bar had a consistency similar to that of Midnight Reverie, probably because both bars contain soy lecithin (DCL's ingredients: cocoa mass, sugar, cocoa butter, soy lecithin, natural vanilla flavor). Its flavor--strong on berries--hit the mouth sooner and was a bit more intense than that of its Ghirardelli counterpart.

I'd cheerfully eat little bits of this bar every day except for one thing: like the Ghirardelli bar and the Lindt-Sprüngli bar, it is not certified fair trade. That means the farmers who produced the cocoa probably did not receive a fair price for their product. Worse, it means that children, some of them actually slaves, may have been involved in farming the cocoa.

#1 Theo Organic Fair Trade Ultimate Dark, 84g, 16.7% sugar, $4.00
Theo comes from the Greek word for god (θεός), and the genus to which the cocoa plant belongs is theobroma, "food of the gods." The gods should be happy with Theo's Ultimate Dark bar, since it is both organically grown and fair traded. All the humans I've offered it to are happy with it too.

Its flavor, which evokes ripe, dark cherries, shows up immediately, intensifies while you chew, and lingers even as you consider breaking off another bite. Its consistency is smooth but not waxy. Its ingredient list is short and perhaps a bit too sweet: cocoa beans, sugar, cocoa butter, and ground vanilla beans. No soy lecithin, no cocoa powder, no milk fat, no "natural flavor," whatever that is.

I hope I liked this chocolate bar best because of its excellent ingredients. I wonder, though, if I'm mostly attracted to the extra sugar. With 7 grams of sugar in each 42-gram serving, Theo Ultimate Dark is 16.7% sugar, which seems to belie its claim to be 85% cocoa. I may have to try these all over again, and no doubt add some other brands, just to be sure ...

If you want to conduct your own chocolate research, check out One Golden Ticket, a blog I discovered while preparing this post. I wish they'd add one of those subscribe-by-email apps--I'd sign up immediately if they did.

A seriously chocolate cake

Tired of sugar plums and gingerbread? Need to sink your teeth into some serious chocolate? Want a recipe that's faster than instant?

Several years ago my friend Ashleigh made a cake she called Texas Sheet Cake. It was lovely though a bit ladylike. I decided it would be even better if I at least doubled the amount of cocoa, using only Hershey's extra dark, and then added dark chocolate chips to the batter, then cut the rest of the recipe in half.

"Um, do you think that might be too much chocolate?" a friend politely asked. "You can't have too much chocolate," I answered. Feel free to add even more if you like. If simple hedonism doesn't induce you to make this cake, think of the antioxidants.

I need a name for this recipe. It might involve the words Dark Side. Suggestions are welcome.

Here's the recipe.

To pastors, about your Mother's Day remarks

I don’t know how many pastors have noticed this, but as Mother’s Day approaches, a flurry of female bloggers are writing about the stress it can cause—especially for churchgoing women. See, for example, Vinita Hampton Wright’s post that begins, “I will not be attending church this Sunday, because it’s Mother’s Day... ,” or Caryn and Carla’s post on The Mommy Revolution titled “Mother’s Day Sermons ... Ugh.”

Here’s an idea, pastors. It’s partly mine, but it was inspired by e-mailed comments from a dear friend who will remain unnamed until she gives me permission to quote her. If you’re going to honor the mothers, do it like this:

1. First, do what you always do: have the mothers stand, give them roses (or chocolate, which is better), let them sit in peace but say nice things about them, whatever. Hint: avoid singling out the oldest mother or, heaven forbid, the mom with the most kids. Keep it brief.

2. Then honor all women who have ever loved a child. These may be aunts, big sisters, grandmothers, godmothers, foster mothers, cousins, family friends, teachers, catechists, nurses, therapists, nannies, librarians, doctors, neighbors, volunteers, coaches, social workers, house cleaners, crossing guards, school cafeteria employees... Be sure to give them chocolate too.

3. Finally, talk about the children in your parish and neighborhood who need love. My friend listed “hungry children; cocaine-addicted babies who need rocking; kids who need tutoring and school supplies; kids who need a Big Sister, foster mom, or adoptive mom.”

Suggest agencies that potential volunteers can contact. Where I live, that could include CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates for Children) , the Evangelical Child and Family Agency, Outreach Community Ministries, People’s Resource Center , Marianjoy Rehabilition Hospital, and the Glen Ellyn Children’s Resource Center —to name just a few.

Pastors, it’s good to honor mothers (step one), but if you stop there, a lot of us feel left out. Keep going to steps two and three, and we can all feel included. Even the guys.

Raspberry sauce for chocolate cake

Last month I posted a recipe for flourless chocolate cakelets. I served it to friends Friday night, and when they asked for the recipe I realized I had not posted any serving instructions.

It is arguably impossible to put too much chocolate in a cake, but these cakelets would overwhelm were they not accompanied by berries (rasp- or black-) and served over (or under) a not-too-sweet fruity sauce. The first time I served them, I took about a cup of Hardy's "Whiskers Blake" tawny (an Australian port), tossed in a cup or so of cherries and raspberries, and reduced it by half or two thirds. It made a great sauce.

This time I took 2 C frozen raspberries, 1 C water, and 1/2 C sugar and brought them to a boil.

I added 1/2 C cognac and let the mixture simmer for a very long time, until it was reduced to about a third of the original volume. I then pressed it all through a strainer to remove the seeds and chilled it until time to serve.

I put a good dollop of the sauce on each of four dessert plates, planted a cakelet in the middle of each dollop, and put eight fat blackberries alongside. Marvelous. Almost too much (though people did clean their plates...).

Flourless chocolate cakelets

Last night's feast went well, but the flourless chocolate cake turned out dry and uninteresting. So this afternoon I adapted the recipe and tried again. This time it worked beautifully. Here's what it looked like, and here's how to do it.

Makes six (four, two) individual cakes in ½ cup custard cups or ramekins. You could stretch the 6-serving recipe to fill 8 ramekins if you have plenty of fresh berries and you are serving this after a large meal.

6	4	2	servings
4oz	2.7oz	1.3oz	dark chocolate (bittersweet or semi-sweet)
1	⅔	⅓	stick unsalted butter
¾C	½C	¼C	sugar, or a bit less
3	2	1	large egg(s)
½C	⅓C	3T	unsweetened cocoa powder (dark is best)

Preheat oven to 325°F. Butter each ramekin, cover the bottom (but not the sides) of each with a circle of waxed paper, and butter the waxed paper.

• Chop chocolate into small pieces. Put it with butter in a large glass measuring cup or small, microwave-safe mixing bowl. Microwave briefly and gently until the chocolate and butter have almost melted. Be careful not to scorch them.
• Whisk sugar into chocolate-butter mixture. Add egg(s) and whisk well. Whisk in cocoa powder. Pour batter into ramekins (it will be fairly stiff; you may have to splat it in with a spoon).
• Bake for 12–14 minutes. You want the top to have formed a skin, but you don’t want the cakes to bake all the way through. Gloppiness is part of the fun. Besides, they will continue to bake after you remove them from the oven.
• Cook cakes on a rack for 5 or 10 minutes. Invert them; if they don’t slide out easily, run a thin knife around the edges. Remove waxed paper.
• Serve warm, or cover and refrigerate to serve later. In an air-tight container, they will keep for several days. They hold birthday candles well, and they look lovely if served on a dribble of sauce with berries for garnish.

Based on a recipe originally published in Gourmet (November 1997) and available at Epicurious .