Stephen Chow, The God of Cookery
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Food52I know I’ve cultivated a bit of a persona on here; the wise-cracking yet grumpy old man who yells at you to get off his porch but makes you some cupcakes on your way out. There’s the ranting, the waving of arms and spatulas, and various other less-than -subtle ways I’ve gone out of my way to tell you lovely folks “hey, you’re wrong, now cook it the right fucking way damnit”. But there’s a lot of good in the kitchen, even if you do fuck things up every now and then. There’s the glorious idea that you can make whatever you damn well please, in whatever order, and no-one can stop you. There’s a Thomas Keller recipe you like but you think he’s secretly a hack, and that you could do better if you just omitted the key ingredient? Do it! Who cares if you’re wrong? You’re a god in your kitchen, and the ingredients are the tiny denizens praying that you don’t crush them and add them to your pate à choux. It’s not just comforting to know that you can comb through the annals of culinary history and rewrite it however you want; it’s powerful. You, you get to look classic recipes, recipes that have lived and died as surely and ugly as the people who ate them did, in the eye and proclaim “I can do better.” And granted, most of the time you won’t; you’ll fuck it up and realize that Julia Childs was right and I’m an idiot and why on earth wouldn’t I do the damn chicken like she said. But it’s worth it for that one time when you do get it right. When you put two things together that have no business being neighbors in the same sentence, let alone the same plate, and it ends up being a shining instance of gustatory gestalt, the feeling is immense. Powerful. I’m not saying this week’s recipe gets quite up to that level, but…well, yeah, yeah I am. I did play god in my kitchen, and I made something that’s better than the sum of its parts, even if most of those parts are cheese. I’ll give myself a hand for that one. Now worship me, tiny denizens.Food52This divine recipe came to mind one night just before falling asleep while in that place between wakefulness and slumber. And it all started..... ....when I was in Portland for the 2010 IACP (International Association of Culinary Professionals) conference. I had one of the most incredible food experiences of my life....a true hot chocolate, or drinking chocolate at Cacao, a tiny chocolate shop on SW 13th Avenue near Burnside Street. Hot chocolate is bittersweet chocolate melted in warm cream. Imagine drinking your chocolate bar warmed into rich cream....liquid chocolate in a cup! I was traveling with my friend and colleague, Orsola, who grew up in Italy and now lives in Moscow (long story....I'll have to tell you at another time). I had never had a true hot chocolate, which is definitely a very heady, sexy, purely adult beverage. (Bye bye hot cocoa! That's kids' stuff compared to this!) When we entered I was intoxicated by the deep rich chocolate notes in the air and I literally swooned as I made my way to the counter. Orsola ordered a demitasse and I ordered a full cup. I thought I'd go for the full monty since this was my first experience with this exciting brew. "Are you sure you want a whole cup?" my companion asked. "Sure, why not?" I chimed. She raised an eyebrow, "It's very, very rich." I figured what-the-hell, this was my first experience with drinking chocolate and I wanted it to be memorable. OMG! My first sip far surpassed any bliss I had ever experienced in my 56 years on this planet.....luscious, complex, mind blowing, extreme, exotic, sensual, ambrosial, thick, creamy, liquid chocolate. I ordered mine with hot spice. I'm not exactly sure what spices they used, but they pleasantly bit the back of the throat after my mouth was saturated with creamy bittersweetness. I now understand why the Aztec Emperor Montezuma (1485-1520) drank his spiced chocolate, "chocolatl", from a golden goblet. The beverage is truly worthy of such a vessel. History has it that he imbibed this divine beverage before entering his harem. Hmmm....that's something to think about....If his beverage was anything like the one I had, he was probably so blissed out that he lived in a chocolate-induced stupor. And Orsola was right, it would have been impossible for me to drink the entire cup in one sitting, not for lack of its godly delights, but because it was so warm, rich, creamy, and exciting that I wanted the experience to last all day. I took over half of it with me so I could take tiny sips all afternoon, never wanting the pleasure to end. I know what you're thinking, "God, what a hedonist!" My response is, "Wait, just wait until you try it....you'll come to understand." And thus my inspiration for this bittersweet chocolate tart with adobo and chipotle was born. I felt my tart needed a toasty crust with a hint of salt to compliment the chocolate. Several years ago I became enamored with David Lebovitz's recipe for the French pastry dough he learned to make from Paule Caillat, the Parisian cooking instructor at Promendes Gourmandes. Rather than taking cold butter and cutting it into the flour, she browns the butter with sugar and while it is still warm, adds the flour. I had my concept for the crust and the chocolate, but I felt something was missing. Nuts...? No. Cinnamon... No. Orange! There's a dreamy comforting quality when oranges are combined with dark chocolate. Those two flavors feel like they somehow belong together, perhaps because they both play upon the counterpoint between sweet and bitter, so I melted some Grand Mariner in bittersweet chocolate and painted the bottom of the crust before filling it, and topped each serving with a chocoloate-dipped orange slice. Alas! my tart is born! But what to call it.....Dark Spiced Chocolate Tart with a Brown Butter Crust and a Hint of Orange....way too long.....that won't do, so I decided to try naming it after those who inspired the recipe....David, Paule, Cacao, and Montezuma's Bittersweet Chocolate Tart with Orange, Salt, and Spice....sounds ridiculous...so how about naming it after the Emperor that had a love affair with spiced chocolate?.....Montezuma's Spiced Chocolate Tart.....ahhh, forget it. It really doesn't matter what you call it. The complexity and richness of the combined flavors make it divine! Enjoy my Aztec Bittersweet Chocolate Tart....or whatever you decide to call it....slowly. Just close your eyes and let the flavors dance and play in your mouth. The tart pastry is adapted from David Lebovitz's "French Pastry Dough" recipe. The chocolate tart filling is adapted from Tyler Florence's "Chocolate Tart". The inspiration came from my experience drinking the fabulous hot chocolate at Cacao in Portland.Food.comI discovered this recipe in an old Victorian scrapbook that I bought in a second hand book shop; the original recipe dates back to 1880, and was the prized Christmas Pudding recipe of the Cook at a Manor House in the North of England. I have made it many times and given smaller versions away as gifts to friends - the lovely thing about this pudding is that it IS fruity and boozy, but it is NOT heavy and stodgy, it is very light for a steamed pudding; this is due to the fact that the recipe does not use flour, but uses bread or cake crumbs instead. The traditional day to make your puddings for Christmas is "Stir-Up Sunday" which is the 5th Sunday before Christmas Day and the Sunday before Advent. You would even be reminded of the fact at the Sunday morning church service, as it was believed that puddings made on this day carried God's blessings to all who partook of it! I always put a lucky silver "sixpence - sixpenny piece" in my pudding - lucky silver charms are also used, and these can still be bought in the UK. Halve the quantities for one large pudding. Merry Christmas!
