I live in a fairly urban setting. One block south of downtown Minneapolis, to be exact, and one would think the fauna in my 'hood should be limited. Apparently the opposite is true. There is not only an abundance of rabbits and squirrels, but said furry creatures are savvy scavengers, and have recently burrowed through my window screen to nibble my chocolate. Twice. (I fixed the screen, they re-robbed me within hours)
jerks.
It is truth that those of us with a pulse have a relationship with chocolate. It could be the sweet snap of hollow bunny ears, or the gooey center of the best brownie ever. It could be those weird discs with the pastel pearls on the one side that seemingly show up at graduations and weddings. It could be dark, white, or milk. It could be mixed with nougat or hugging peanut butter. It could maybe even have been carved into the likeness of Conan O'Brien and covered with bacon. Whether it be a close and committed or a dispassionate at best, you have a relationship with chocolate.
While my mother (proud or not) is the biggest fan of chocolate I've met. I might be engaged to chocolate, but she's been married forty years after a string of past lives being married to chocolate. ahem. I learned she was a chocolate hoarder when I was little, sitting on the giant freezer in the basement, helping her fold laundry. I had a headache. She disappeared into her bedroom and came out with a dainty handful of semi-sweet nestle chocolate chips. Having correctly suspected a sugar or caffeine hangover, she did more than cure my headache: she made chocolate magic.
**an aside: we were that family on the block without potato chips, cookies, or soda. yup, we snacked on radishes and grapes out of open bowls in the fridge. I had probably binged at a sleepover.
I've grown a bit since then, and dispelled many childhood myths, but it turns out: chocolate IS a little magic. It's not merely for its trendy trendy anti-oxidants or how it's aphrodisiacly inclined (although it does have it's benefits, medically speaking). Over the past coupla weeks, I've learned exactly what chocolate goes through to get to us. It is a wonder, maybe even a miracle at points, that all of we all share some kind of experience with chocolate.
In the mean time—Here's my favorite recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies
http://www.bettycrocker.com/recipes.aspx/buttery-chocolate-chip-cookies
oh yeah Betty Crocker is still awesome. I add a little extra salt—don't go overboard.
ps---here's Conan O'Brien with his MN State Fair bust
http://blogs.citypages.com/blotter/2009/08/behold_the_baco.php
I made my head cheese. It wasn't as delicious as I envisioned it would be, but still far better than my lackluster memory of it (luckily), and eventually we will prevail. And by we, I mean my dad and me.
Not for immediate retrial, however, because as thrilling as it is, smelly is the process. Surprising, I know, but simmering the head of an animal (and a hoof or two) in a suburban townhouse is not necessarily the most appetizing process. And we had two pots.
In the end, the experience out-awesomed the result. It sparked my interest in charcuterie (curing meat), a topic I didn't know I LOVE, and gave me an opportunity to butcher a pig (more to come on that).
We'll do it again next year.
