Secrets to Heavenly Hot Chocolate with M. Jacques Torres

If there’s anyone who knows how to make exceptional hot chocolate, it’s master pastry chef Jacques Torres—Mr. Chocolate himself.

A few years ago I took my teenage nephews (all three of them) on a Christmas jaunt to New York City. The weekend included a Knicks vs. Bulls game at Madison Square Garden; dinner at Blue Smoke; a stroll down 7^th Avenue in Brooklyn (We stayed with a friend there); and a pit stop at Jacques Torres Chocolate in DUMBO before hitting the highway home to Boston.

The last stop made the most lasting impression. The hot chocolate was how I recalled it at Angelina in Paris (sorry, M. Torres, if you find the comparison unfavorable). For an impressionable American, taken there by a Parisian, it was a culinary “Aha!” moment: thick silky creamy chocolate—not cocoa—poured from a pitcher with a bowl of whipped cream to do with what I wanted. It was heaven.

The chocolat chaud at M. Torres’ cozy shop “down under the Brooklyn Bridge” brought me back to Paris and opened my nephews’ eyes to what good chocolate could do if you let it. Truth is, they were so taken aback by its richness they couldn’t finish it. Me? I happily drank the leftovers and zinged eastbound on Interstate 278 toward home.

M. Torres graciously spoke to PressureKooker, recently, imparting the three most important elements in making great hot chocolate:

1. Use good chocolate. “The quality of chocolate is very important,” he says in a lovely French accent. “Do not use cocoa powder—cocoa is a byproduct of chocolate. …It’s not a finished product.” (He special orders chocolate from Belcolade in Belgium.)

2. Boil the milk twice. While there’s no need for cream or anything richer than milk, M. Torres does recommend boiling the milk twice: once before you add the chocolate, then again after you’ve added the chocolate.

3. "Forget the marshmallows—I love marshmallows, but not in hot chocolate,” he says. “I think people put in marshmallows because they’re too lazy to make whipped cream. …Not Chantilly. Chantilly has sugar.” In fact, he prefers unsweetened whipped cream, softly whipped. “The cold cream on the top, once it starts to melt and the hot chocolate, together it’s heaven.”

Heavenly Hot Chocolate for Two

Time: About 5 to 10 minutes to make the whipped cream; five minutes to make the hot chocolate

12 ounces whole milk

4 heaping tablespoons good quality dark chocolate, coarsely chopped (for this recipe, I used Ghirardelli, 60 % cacao bittersweet chocolate

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons water

1 pinch kosher salt

1 pint whole cream, lightly whipped by hand with a whisk

In a medium-sized, thick-bottom saucepan, heat the milk over medium-high heat until it softly comes to a boil.

Once the milk gets frothy, remove the pan from the heat and add the chocolate, whisking quickly until it’s completely melted.

Put the mixture back on the heat and slowly bring to a soft boil. Keep whisking. Add the sugar, water and salt. Whisk for a minute while softly boiling.

Remove saucepan from heat. Pour hot chocolate into pre-warmed mugs (a good way to keep the chocolate hot). Top with whipped cream. Serve immediately, savor slowly.

Sundays are for French Toast

There’s nothing like the wafting smell of browning butter, the sizzle of placing your egg-soaked bread in the pan and smelling the mix of cinnamon and warmth as you await your French toast. The first time I made French toast as a kid I confused the process with pancakes. I loved both, and at home would alternate between the two for Saturday breakfast. OK, my mom was really the one who made them.

But when I slept over at a friend’s house, the next morning I offered to make French toast. I was so sure how to make it. I mixed up flour and milk, baking powder and a little oil. That was it, wasn’t it? Hmm. Something didn’t look right, but I didn’t let on that I wasn’t sure. I dipped the bread in the lumpy batter and laid it down in the bed of hot Pam. One flip and it didn’t look like the French toast at home.

I called my mom. “Oh, honey [insert: dumbass]. That’s pancake batter. For French toast it’s just eggs and milk and a little cinnamon.”

For the record, my mom has never called me dumbass.

We scrapped the pan-toast (which to this day might be a bigger hit than chicken and waffles, but we never tried it), and got going on the French part: beating the eggs, adding a dollop of milk, a sprinkle of cinnamon and frying it up. I’m sure it was fine.

Fast forward to high school when I waited tables at a rustic resort in Maine during the summer. Our cook was a groovy dude, Carey. And, for the record, I had a bad crush on Carey. He wore fringed suede boots, touted a thick beard and said “man” a lot. At dinner he and the sous chef fired up white Russians once the mis en place was complete—smart. It didn’t hurt he was a graduate of the CIA. I just didn’t know why someone would hire a spy to cook at a resort.

Then Carey blew my mind. To make French toast he whisked some eggs, added cream, and sprinkled in cinnamon. But he didn’t stop there. He shaved in some fresh nutmeg, a pinch of sugar, a few grains of salt, a dash of vanilla, then, true to his line-cooking expertise, added a healthy tablespoon of rum. That was the closest I was going to get to loving Carey. I’ve always made it the same way since, often without the rum.

Carey’s Sunday French Toast

3 large eggs

1 tablespoon cream or half and half, or whole milk

2 teaspoons cinnamon

3 shaves of fresh nutmeg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 tablespoon dark rum

1 teaspoon sugar

1 pinch salt

Butter

6 slices regular bread, white or whole wheat

Real maple syrup

Whisk all the ingredients, except butter, bread and syrup, together in a shallow bowl.

Over medium-high heat, heat up enough butter to coat the bottom of a large skillet. Once the butter is lightly browned (you can smell it’s nuttiness), soak each piece of bread in the egg mixture and, two at a time, lay them in the skillet to cook. Turn down the heat to medium so you do not burn the bread. Once each side is cooked well, about 2 minutes each, turn them over. You may want to turn them over again to brown each side evenly.

Serve with butter and real maple syrup.

HOSPITALITY NOTE: One way to keep it all warm: warm the plates (provided they are oven proof) in about 150-degree oven. Heat the syrup.

Omi's Spicy Walnuts & It's A New Day Salad

Yesterday (February 5, 2012, Super Bowl XLVI), my salad was a Super Bowl salad. Today, it’s consolation leftovers. Well, not exactly. It’s still a salad, and given it was even a surprise to most Pats fans that we (it’s still we, no divorce) even made it to the Super Bowl, I’m consoled. It’s a new day.

Take my mom, a 76-year-old woman. She was depressed for two minutes after New England lost the game. Then she went like this: " 'Demaris, what are you thinking? Football is a violent game. You just lost your husband, and you've been through two cancers. Get out of your depression,' I said something like that to myself," she told me.

"The whole thing is if you can keep a positive attitude you can get through most anything."

To help kick-start a clean slate and promote a positive attitude, I invented these spicy walnuts. I know I’m not the first person to make spiced nuts. There are many brands out there. But these are pretty kickn’ and so simple to make you barely need a recipe. Now that's positive.

Inspired by the bleu cheese/buffalo heat without-the-wings combo, these nuts are delish in the It’s A New Day Salad with Gorgonzola dressing (See recipe below) or they can disappear on their own. Warning: They can be addictive.

Omi’s Spicy Walnuts

1 cup walnut halves

1/4 cup sugar

1 heaping teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 tablespoons butter, melted

Three shakes of Tabasco sauce

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees F.

Toss all the ingredients in a Ziploc or other plastic bag. Shake until the nuts are well coated. Spread into a shallow pan and bake at 400 for about 8 to 10 minutes or until you start to smell the nuts. Shake them periodically and taste one (but careful, it’s hot, blow on it—I am not responsible if you burn your tongue) to make sure it’s lightly toasted. Monitor the nuts carefully as they get to the end of their baking time; they can go quickly from just rightly toasted to burnt.

Take out of the oven, cool and sprinkle over the salad or serve alone as a party snack.

It’s A New Day Salad

1 small head of iceberg lettuce, leaves washed, dried and chopped

2 handfuls baby carrots

3 celery stalks, chopped

1 pint grape tomatoes, washed & dried

1 whole red pepper, julienned

2 Tablespoons red onion, chopped

Serve with Gorgonzola or bleu cheese dressing

Omi’s spicy walnuts

Note: In Googling It’s A New Day, I discovered that I do not want to link to the Website using the same phrase; on the other hand, I do like the “clean slate” link, which talks about fulfilling career/personal goals.

Simon's Swans...And Other Latte Art

Coffee in Cambridge, Mass. is like chocolate in Paris, France—you got to go for it while you’re there because it’s the right thing to drink/eat. It’s like going to the moon and not meeting the man or going to Fenway and not using the restroom.

It took me a while to get to Simon's Coffee Shop but now I’m hooked and it’s not just because of the caffeine. These are serious coffee people. They buy their coffee from Barismo, a small-batch coffee roaster in Arlington started by former Simon’s baristas. (I love that about Boston. Toss a penny in the Swan Boat Public Garden pond and it doesn’t sink to the bottom—it’s too shallow—it casts off ripples. And not only that, Barismo folks are just about to open dwelltime in Inman Square. Ripple.)

Before adding cream I taste the house coffee, El Bosque (the forest) from Guatemala. It’s balanced, not too acidic, a nice medium roast. My friend calls me over to admire the foam on her latte. “Look!” There’s a swan swirl on top. Think the mark of Zorro or the X in Malcolm X. We think Erick did it, or it could be Jay.

Simon’s is narrow. The coffee bar and counter is on one side, tables and chairs on the other. When we go around 1 p.m. on a Saturday all the seats are taken. There’s a woman with her open laptop, and a man who appears to be waiting for someone or something. Nifty photos hang on the burnt-orange walls.

Jason Rayner (a barista) tells me they all practice “latte art”—swans, rosettes. “All of us can do ‘em,” he says, crediting David Schomer in Seattle, Wash. for starting latte art.

I’m taken with the swan. “Do you do skulls?” I ask the guy with tattoos, feeling self-conscious. “I’ve seen them done,” he says politely.

We take our coffees and leave for chez friend.

Photo courtesy @lvanderpool

12-Hours-Left Food Lover Finds for the Holidays

Still not sure what to get your food lover? Don’t panic. PressureKooker has you covered.

BOOKS BY LOCAL AUTHORS

“Shucked: Life on a New England Oyster Farm” by Erin Byers Murray (St. Martin’s Press, 2011, $25) is a wonderfully woven memoir about a lifestyle writer turned oyster farmer turned author. Through Byers Murray’s passion we learn about oyster farming at Island Creek Oysters in Duxbury, Mass., follow her through the wicked winters and gracious summers on “the flats”, and taste the “merroir”—the essence of an oyster from where it’s grown—through her salivating descriptions. Fun, moving and delicious read.

“The Apple Lover’s Cookbook” by Amy Traverso (W.W. Norton & Co., 2011, $29.95) is a lovely ode to all the favs we know, from McCoun and McIntosh, to the other 57 varieties of apples we don’t. The handsome hardcover is chock-a-block of apple knowledge, history and 100 great recipes that take you beyond the usual apple pie while offering time-saving techniques—all wonderfully inspiring.

“Wine Lover’s Devotional: 365 Days of Knowledge, Advice and Lore for the Ardent Aficionado” by Jonathon Alsop (Quarry Books, 2010, $19.99) encourages wine lovers to find their own language about something they want to know more about but might be too intimated to ask. The informative, irreverent and entertaining read is also practical with recipes, travel and buying tips.

“Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston’s Flour Bakery + Cafe” by Joanne Chang with Christie Matheson (Chronicle Books, 2010, $35) is for anyone with a sweet tooth, or anyone who can appreciate the art of baking with real butter, sugar and flour, all guided by the insightful, instructional hands of Joanne Chang, who’s built a sweet empire of her own. Go with her motto: “Eat dessert first.”

HOT TICKETS

Two of Boston’s biggest wine events are upon us in the New Year. Give the gift of attending the Boston Wine Expo, a five-day celebration of wine tasting and seminars January 16-22, 2012 at the Seaport World Trade Center and Seaport Hotel. Save $10 per ticket for the Grand Tasting when you purchase them in December.

The other is the 2012 Boston Wine Festival, a three-month long extravaganza of vintner dinners, a jazz brunch, seminars and tastings bookended by an opening reception January 6, 2012 and a closing reception March 30, 2012 at the dazzling waterfront Boston Harbor Hotel. Buy tickets for a reception, a dinner or indulge in a hotel package for an overnight.

Cupcakes and Cocktails: Make adult cupcakes in this cooking class at the Boston Center for Adult Education, January 20, 2012, 6-9 PM. Cosmo or sangria cupcakes, or other seasonal flavors will be part of the menu. Buy two tickets and make it a party ($55 per person, plus $22 for materials).

MEMBERS ONLY

Cheese lovers will love the Formaggio Kitchen “Cheese of the Month Club”. With membership, you get a taste of cheeses from around the world and a selection of milk types and information on each one for a total weight of one and a half pounds, monthly ($199 for three months; $186 for six months; $541 for a year, all shipping included, at formaggiokitchen.com).

Trust Central Bottle in Cambridge to find three bottles a month that will woo you, if not (hopefully) blow you away. The “Three Bottles a Month” club includes three wines, handpicked by the owners who go out of their way to find wines off the beaten consumer path. ($50/month)

Feel like an outsider obsessed with food? You’re not alone. Become a member of The Culinary Guild of New England and receive discounts to specialty food stores, discounts to cooking classes, plus special invitations to guild-sponsored events like dinners and tastings, and hobnob with other members who are professional cooks, writers and all around food fanatics. Most of all, you’ll feel right at home. ($75 per person, annually/$35 for ages 30 and younger, and 65 and older; http://www.cgne.org).

Cross the velvet ropes and get a membership to MET Back Bay’s Townhouse, an exclusive, elegant club with a separate entrance from the restaurant, MET Back Bay. The $2,500 membership works like a debit card: You pay the fee and spend down your balance by wining, dining, and holding private parties in a townhouse that feels like yours.

“Sexy apron” might seem like an oxymoron until you check out the frilly, halter-style ones from Kitsch'n Glam (found in Paper Source stores, $37.99-$39.99). There’re so fun and fashionable (love the owls!) they can double as a dress. Sort of.

Wine 101

Wine doesn’t need to be intimidating. And more sommeliers or beverage directors at restaurants go out of their way to make you feel comfortable with the wine list. Same thing with a reputable wine store; not only should they welcome your business, but it’s their business to introduce you to great wines and offer customer service by being engaging and helpful.

I’ve put together five tips for quick wine knowledge:

One, befriend your local wine merchant. Find a store you like and frequent it, establishing a relationship with the same person there so they get to know your tastes and they can introduce you to some great stuff. Peter at Marty’s Liquors in Newton is that guy for me.

Two, attend a lot of tastings. Visit your liquor store when they hold them. You’ll only know what you like after you try a lot of wine. And you wouldn’t dream of imbibing it all, would you; there’s always spitting as the professionals do.

(Check out the Boston Wine Expo January 21 & 22, 2012; it's a great opportunity to sample dozens of wines.)

Three, once you find a wine you like focus on the producer--the winery that makes the wine. Get to know them as you would anything you’d have a passion for—where are they located? Where do their grapes come from? You’ll gain confidence through knowledge, and enjoy it all the more.

Four, if you are dining out with a group and are nervous about ordering wine, get the wine list ahead of time and discuss what you’re looking for and your budget with the beverage director. It takes the sweat out of being put on the spot.

Five, take a class at the Boston Wine School with Jonathan Alsop—his down-to-earth, irreverent approach along with his deep knowledge will not only put you at ease but you’ll have fun. Imagine: Wine = fun.

Thanks for listening to "Talk with Francesca" Sunday, November 27th AM-1510. For restaurant recommendations and more recipes, please check back with PressureKooker. If you're looking for the chili recipe, please click here. And keep cooking!

My Private Tour de France

Be forewarned: This blog post is an out-of-the-kitchen experience, though it ends with a mean limeade recipe because there's nothing like an icy lime drink to cool off with this triple-digit heat. The biking? Don't try that at home. I am training for my second PanMass Challenge, a two-day, 192-mile bike ride that raises money for cancer research and to eradicate the disease.

First confession: I’ve learned to love hills, even the straight-up kind. The long, slogging kind, not so much. OK, so I don’t love, love them per se. I find when I’m on them, I might as well surrender. Because I’m not going anywhere but up, and there’s always a down. The key is to keep pedaling, especially when you don’t feel like it.

Second confession: Tour de France rider I am not—while my focus remains on the road ahead, I tend to greet my fellow riders with at least a nod, sometimes a four-finger salute from the handlebar, or an all out Hello. I could’ve missed something, but all the hours watching Alberto Contador pace-lining the Pyrenes on the TV’s Tour de France coverage, he doesn’t give a damn about his fellow riders, not even a nod to establish they exist. Oh, the rudeness of competition.

Many fellow riders, heading in the opposite direction, like to keep their heads down. That’s fine. I’ve clocked it; I can say Hello and keep riding at just about the same pace, sometimes picking up a few seconds—just like when I slip in a sip from my water bottle. Being friendly, I find, pumps me up; not slows me down.

I’m not exactly fast. My 90-mile ride recently, while neither leisure nor a race, cost me seven hours and 7.26 minutes, not bad for a formerly chubby-legged girl who had a hard time finding a sport to call her own. But I am rewarded by enjoying the accomplishment and feeling solid-legged not spent the next day.

And while I’m not racing against anyone except my own time, I have made improvements. One of my first rides in May I clocked 12.3 mph at about 12 miles. My latest 12-mile ride in July? 14.5 mph.

I contribute four things to being better: my own consistent training rides and determination to improve; a few rides with the Charles River Wheelman—a local cycling club, where veteran cyclist Richard taught me the rules of the road, let me draft and find my own cadence, and cheered me on; my boyfriend, Chris, whose peanut butter-and-honey lectures and road-crew support allow me to traverse the tundra; and, most importantly, my mom Demaris, my friends Andrea, Steve, Sarah, Patty and many others whose lives have been interrupted by cancer. Yet, they continue to win their own private Tours de France every day.

So, it’s not about Contador or the mini pelotons I pass—or that, more truthfully, pass me—coming and going along the leafy green roads of MetroWest. It’s the fact that I am able to ride and do, and in the moments of finding beauty in a flowering pink geranium on a windowsill or dodging a chipmunk scampering across the road, I realize this is living. Hills and all.

No-Pressure Limeade

4 Tablespoons sugar

4 Tablespoons hot water

2 limes

1 lemon

Water

Ice

Put the sugar in a heat-proof glass measuring cup. Add the hot water and stir vigorously until the liquid turns clear -- this is simple syrup, what bartenders use all the time to sweeten drinks.

Into a large pitcher squeeze the juices of the limes and lemon. Add the simple syrup. Stir. Add two cups cold water and two cups of ice. Stir. Pour into a glass stacked with ice and sip to chill out.