I have to be honest- I do not prefer long-stemmed red roses to any other flower, and I think that Valentine's Day causes perhaps as much anxiety as joy. But I love classic things (like this book) for two reasons- there is a reason they are classic, and enjoying a classic is nice for its own sake. It gives us an absolute standard- no innovative flourishes, just excellence, the starting point for all the other versions of this one pure thing.
When I graduated from High School my parents arranged for us to have a festive lunch not at one of the dozens of restaurants of the moment- excellent though they may have been- but rather at the East Side Midtown's La Grenouille- at that time it had been open just 22 years but back then 22 years saw the passing of several eras. The restaurant was not so much of a time capsule as it was a timeless capsule- its own era encapsulating so ideally the classic. 1962 remained untouched by time in the grand room and I hope it still does. You would think I would remember what we ordered, but I do not. I do remember that the waiter gave me some of every single dessert from the cart so Mademoiselle could see what she liked best, and he beamed at me as though his true calling was not service so much as it was indulging.
Perhaps the specifics of the meal have been outshone by their perfection. Everything there was perfect- the perfect version of the perfect thing in the perfect setting. This memory inspires me to recommend that on the most classic of romantic days you try not some fabulous dessert of the moment, that you don't experiment, but that you make the most classic version of the most classic chocolate dessert, timeless (like love itself!).
We will need:
6 nice large super clean and fresh eggs
300 g/ a generous 10 oz. chocolate- all dark or a combination of milk and dark, as you like.
pinch salt
100 ml/ very scant 1/2 C hot water or hot coffee, as you like.
These eggs will not be cooked, so get the best ones you can find.
Beat the yolks for a long time- even 10 minutes. Although they do not rise in volume nearly as impressively like whites do, it is a stabile volume, not like whites that deflate if you look at them wrong:
300 g/ a generous 10 oz. chocolate- all dark or a combination of milk and dark, as you like.
pinch salt
100 ml/ very scant 1/2 C hot water or hot coffee, as you like.
These eggs will not be cooked, so get the best ones you can find.
Separate the eggs, making sure that not a speck of yolk is in the whites (use an egg shell to scoop out any yellow from a broken yolk).
Beat the yolks for a long time- even 10 minutes. Although they do not rise in volume nearly as impressively like whites do, it is a stabile volume, not like whites that deflate if you look at them wrong:
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| A ribbon of them will stay on the surface a moment- alas not long enough to photograph. |
Meanwhile, melt the chocolate and water or coffee together over hot water and stir to help it along. Remove at once- we want it completely melted but not at all too warm, or it will cook the yolks and curdle them. Blend them together:
Now beat the whites with clean beaters and add a small pinch of salt. Whip until fluffy, but not too stiff. Billowy whites are easier to blend in. I fold in half to lighten the mixture, then the other half:
Stop just when there are no traces of white:
At this point, you will think the whites have deflated too much- it is a thick, pourable mass, and not a light creamy fluffy thing. Do not worry, just pour it into whatever vessels you like:
and know it will set up beautifully in the refrigerator. Beautifully! In six hours, it will be creamy and light, and the second day it becomes a little bit spongy- my favorite way of having it. Both are fabulous. It makes several portions so you can try it both ways.
Serve with freshly whipped cream and make sure to sweeten it enough, especially if you have used all dark chocolate.
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