Tag Archive | chocolate ganache

Grandma Gilda

I don’t know who she is, but I’m sure grateful that her recipe for sponge cake came to my attention. Kim made a cookbook of her great-grandmother’s recipes many years ago, called Rosalie’s Kitchen. When she texted a picture of this amazing cake a few weeks back, I knew I had to try it, and was grateful she’d given me a copy of the cookbook. (I’ll be taking a crack at Rosalie’s biscotti pretty soon.) I was excited to try a genuine Genoese Sponge for the first time, grateful the Great British Baking Show had given me courage and incentive to try it, and grateful I had enough good Bad Dog eggs, milk, whipping cream, and everything else I needed to make it.

After beating seven eggs for more than ten minutes, until they had tripled in volume and turned light and frothy, I gradually added sugar.
Two more eggs went into the Italian cream which required several cooking steps including direct heat and double boiler.
I didn’t have Hershey’s syrup, so made a quick ganache with a good dark Equal Exchange chocolate bar and some heated whipping cream.
Chop the chocolate, pour the hot cream over it (1:1 up to 1:1.5 ratio), let it sit three minutes, then stir til it’s all melted and mixed. Chill for a couple of hours, then whip til frosting consistency. Grateful for the honeybee bowl Cousin Melinda gave me years ago, perfect for the task.
I cut the two cakes in half with a bread knife to make four layers.
The first layer is frosted with raspberry whipped cream. Grandma Gilda’s recipe calls for strawberries, but I’m grateful I had some of Paula’s raspberries from last summer in the freezer, so I thawed about a cup of them to mix into the whipped cream.
The second layer is frosted with the whipped chocolate ganache, and the third is covered with Italian cream.
On goes the top…
…and the whole thing gets frosted with whipped cream. Then cut and shared with the first person down the driveway.
And then a slice savored, bite by bite, after dinner. One of the most fun cakes I’ve ever made. I’m grateful for everything that went into this cake, from Kim sharing her ancestral recipe, to all the fine ingredients, to having the time, patience, inspiration, desire, and skill to concoct it. I’m grateful for the propane and the oven, the bowls and the mixer, the spatulas, spoons and knives, pots and pans and cooling racks, a kitchen counter long enough to lay it all out on, and friends to share it with.

Chocolate Ganache

Who knew it was so easy? Melted chocolate, whisked with warmed cream and butter. And in this case, a couple of tablespoons of Grand Marnier. The second ganache I made far surpassed the first: I clearly did something wrong the first time.

When we made the chocolate ├ęclairs, I knew I’d done something wrong when I ran out of ganache halfway through dipping the mini two-finger, first-time choux pastries; and it was so thick. I froze the un-chocolated ones and pulled them out the other day to thaw, so I whipped up a second batch of chocolate ganache. I used Ghiradelli semi-sweet chips, heavy whipping cream, unsalted butter, and a splash of Grand Marnier from a bottle with a broken cork — it had to get used up.

I had so much ganache left over! But I made it for the ├ęclairs knowing that I’d be baking Lebkuchen shortly. The one incentivized the other. Lebkuchen, cookie of my childhood. I was raised on Lebkuchen growing up in Germany. Back in the States, we got it only at Christmas. It’s the ultimate spice cookie, in my book, and was always completely dipped in dark chocolate, cut in stars and crescent moons, a thick texture with just a hint each of crunch and chew, and (did I mention?) covered completely in rich dark chocolate. Seems like it’s hard to come by these days, but I’m sure I could find something online.

My first pursuit of the classic Lebkuchen flavors was delicious, but mild: Lebkuchen cake.

Instead, I searched recipes, and baked first a Lebkuchen cake, and then a couple of weeks later, Lebkuchen Honey Bars. I assumed this second recipe would resemble the cookies of memory, but turns out it’s more of a brownie type treat. No worries, I’m adaptable. The recipe (Joy of Cooking) says “Cover the dough tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 24 hours or up to 1 month.” I set it in the cold mudroom for about 27 hours. Then, the recipe says, “If possible, let the cookies age for at least 2 weeks to allow the spices to ripen. What??

I did not used to be a person who used a lot of sugar. Just when I need it least, during Covid, I’m using it more than ever. Making the lemon glaze, with lots of confectioners’ sugar and fresh lemon juice.

It called for a lemon glaze, so I made that too, and poured it over the semi-fallen pan of this delectably flavored – brownie, for lack of a better word. Turns out, brownie defines a particular texture more than a flavor. Huh! Learn something new every day. For that I am also grateful. It keeps life perpetually fascinating. Exciting, one might even say. It could have baked a few minutes longer, though even so it definitely wasn’t a cookie; that will have to be Lebkuchen chapter three.

Lebkuchen bars, glazed, then drizzled with chocolate ganache. Chocolated. (“I can chocolate you some,” said the Southern Maid.) Of course I ate a couple, but have put the rest in cold storage to cure for two weeks, I mean for as long as I can.

And still I had leftover chocolate ganache! Looking for room in the freezer to save it, I found apricot cookie dough from a month ago, so I pulled that out to thaw and bake. Cooled, I rolled one side of each cookie in ganache microwaved just enough to melt it completely, not to heat it up; then stuck the cookie sheet in the mudroom to chill and set overnight.

Apricot chocolate crescents, an unintended consequence of excessive ganache. (First-world problems, gourmet solutions.)

And still there was a cup of chocolate ganache left over! “I like it as fudge sauce,” texted Amy. Like she was reading my mind. Mmmmm, was that good! Just now, finishing a long four days of work and zoom meetings, keeping the woodstove fed, the snow shoveled a couple of times as it accumulated, keeping cat and dog wherever they want to be in or out, never sitting too long at a time so the old sciatica bug don’t bite too hard…

Then suddenly there was a bug, dropped from the sky onto the desktop. I watched it for awhile, til I forgot it was there and almost smashed it with the bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate ganache I set down.

Is it some kind of stinkbug? I didn’t want to upset it, just in case, the skunks of the insect world.
I took a Buddha glass upside down and scooped it out to the porch, where I let it drop in a safe dry place by the house. I’m grateful for quotidian late-night adventures.
And finally, the last reason I’m grateful for chocolate ganache. Tomorrow, the last of it, on the last of the birthday coffee gelato.

Making the most of simple things, in this one precious day that will never come again. I’m not so sure we’ll have chocolate for the rest of my life, either, given the ravages of climate chaos on cacao tree countries. So I’m gonna seize the day, while it’s here, to indulge in chocolate while I can. And now I have a new way to play with it. You can even whip it into frosting. So today, just this moment as its taste lingers in my mouth, I’m grateful for multi-function chocolate ganache.