This may present a problem.
Cook books are typically impersonal, and the tao is deeply personal. Cook books are instructive, and the tao rarely instructs. This is definitely an experiment, because cook books are typically made out of paper, and the tao is like water. Let's watch closely, and find out how the two react. I'm going to start right off with the deeply personal tao thing that I mentioned already.
At some point, in recent years, I realized this: creating a romantic relationship that doesn't stink is waaaaaay harder than a Disney childhood led me to believe. In primary school, I distinctly remember learning almost nothing. However, I'm pretty sure that a few of the most instructive lessons of my public education included the following:
1) that people used to be really stupid and think the Earth was flat but luckily since then scientists learned pretty much everything
2) that being popular is probably a good plan even if it seems dumb and like too much work at the time
and
3) that everybody finds the perfect somebody eventually; it an inalterable fact of life, like acne or the pungent scent surrounding my frumpy 5th grade choir teacher.
Now, as I shakily stand up to the fact that mature, satisfying, romantic relationships are one of the most challenging and unguaranteed acts of intentional creation this side of the Mona Lisa, I find myself craving some kind of solace. I remind myself: we've all been lonely, and in the face of that, rebound is perfectly natural. It's normal to go back to an old standby, to something you can count on, that something that is always there...
I write, of course, of that dear friend (with benefits) that never betrays and only rarely disappoints. I write, of course of that dear confidant to which each of us run in our darkest hour. I write, of course, of chocolate.
It's okay that I went back to chocolate, right? After all, I love chocolate! And you know what? Chocolate loves me, unconditionally. So suck on that! Because it's gooey and delicious and definitely worth sucking on for awhile. Savor it, you know?
Anyway, when I woke up this morning, I found myself preparing to become a chocolatier.
Here's the thing: I have a vision of my ideal romantic relationship. So far, like a portrait artist who just can't get those eye lines quite right, I haven't been able to author the romantic creation that I am called to create. So, this morning, when I found myself preparing to become a chocolatier for the day, I think that I was finding a way to deeply know, again, that I am the creator of my own being. To author that which I need, I only have to muster the courage to join the tao, to release the conceptions of what I am and am not and to let it pull me into freely creating that which is right and necessary.
Today, chocolate was as right and necessary as they come.
I have never made chocolate before. I didn't know how it was done. But, I suppose, the river always flows downstream, so it must all work out one way or another! Besides, chocolate is always more or less delicious. Have you ever actually had bad chocolate? Please don't answer that if you're some kind of Austrian or perhaps Swiss chocolate snob. Also, you and I both know that Hershey's doesn't count. I think it's generally safe to assume that "chocolate-flavored bars" don't count for anything.
* * * * *
These are raw cacao beans!
Look at these little fellas. They're adorable! For some reason, I happened to have a 1-pound bag of them just sitting around, ordered in bulk from Nuts Online. I guess at some point, I was lucky enough to be paying attention when my inner tao told me I’d better order a 1-pound bag of cacao beans. I’m finding that this is about the best reason to do almost anything.
These guys are technically seeds, not beans. Their outside shell is soft and edible, more like the skin of an almond than the shell of a peanut. You can eat them raw! In fact, I did just that, and discovered that they are quite delicious on their own. Beneath the soft shell is the cacao meat, which tastes just like creamy, ultra-dark, unsweetened chocolate. They also happen to be healthy, energizing, they pack a huge load of antioxidants, and they promote happiness and good mood via release of serotonin. In other words, they are all the health benefits from chocolate, without the sugar and dairy. After trying them plain, I tossed a few in my morning protein shake, and they gave it a persistent coco-nutty aftertaste.
Raw taste test – and breakfast! – taken care of, I moved onto further experiments. To make refined chocolate, some very sophisticated people who I haven’t met indulge in a complex process refined over thousands of years: a process with deeply cultural, maybe even religious, foundations among some ancient peoples. However, I'm pretty cool too because I read about these people and their process on Wikipedia.
So, for my first confection, I grabbed a handful of about ten of the raw beans (pictured up above! such cute little guys!) and dropped them into a saucepan on low heat. To help prevent scorching, I poured maybe a 1/4-cup of rice milk in with them. Then I grabbed some kind of potato masher and crushed the heck out of my new cacao friends, stirring occasionally to cook evenly.
I should probably mention right about now that this is how I always cook: without a paddle, without a map. More generally, this is how I create. Don't get me wrong; technique is great, and skills are important. However, all my creative skills are based on ever-more effective improvisation. I almost never use recipes, because how can anyone’s recipe tell me how to better follow the tao that flows in my heart in that moment? I apply this practice to the way I engage with music, visual art, written word, and most everything else, and much of my life is about modeling this kind of shameless improvisation for others, which is more or less why you and I are sitting right here, right now, thinking about chocolate-making.
Anyway, in about the time it took me to write the above explanation of the purpose of this blog, much of the rice milk evaporated, so that what was left looked like this:
I kept crushing and stirring until the whole mess looked like some kinda chunky granola in molasses. As it simmered, I threw in a dash of cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, chili powder, cayenne pepper, and stevia for sweetener.
Then, I took it off the heat, sliced up a banana, covered the slices in 1 spoonful each, and froze the whole plate.
They were delicious, so most of them got eaten before I got a photo in. The brave survivors are pictured to the right.
So, that worked pretty well. Not only were they tasty, but they were more or less sugar-free! That said, who was I kidding? Banana makes everything effortless: cases in point, banana bread, banana smoothies, banana phones, etc. Determined to show myself up and follow today's tao to its ultimately bittersweet and chocolatey end, I decided that cacao energy bars were my next target.
Up to a certain point, this process looked very similar to the previous one. I even used similar spices, only replacing some of the stevia with maybe 1/4-cup of Blue Agave syrup hoping that the sugar content might provide a bit of sticky cohesion to the bars. I don't know whether this did the trick, but the raisins and walnuts I crushed into the saucepan with the simmering cacao certainly did. I pressed the sticky mixture into a rectangular baking pan, stuck it in the freezer, and waited.For one who is fully in alignment with the tao, time is as nothing, for every moment is equally a passing eddy in the stream.
As for me, I went outside and quite impatiently enjoyed the sun for a few minutes, and returned with a knife to cut my concoction into bars. The result? Ta-da! I guess people were still sated by the cacao chili banana crumble, so most of the bars were still present when I took this photo.
My second delicious triumph under my belt, I figured I was ready for a real challenge: not just a cacao-based confection, but something resembling smooth chocolate. A chocolate tart, perhaps.
For smooth chocolate, I decided to begin by roasting the beans, which is actually also the first step used by those real-life professional chocolatiers that I mentioned earlier: you know, the ones with their own Wikipedia pages and everything? So, I baked a double-handful of beans at about 375 for 10 minutes, and then at 325 for another 10 or so, until the shells began to crack open on their own. Then I removed them and, as they cooled, I used the potato-masher thing I'd used earlier to shatter the beans. Roasted, they crunched open easily, breaking apart into bits of nibs (cacao meat) and pieces of shell.
I saw a tip online that one could "winnow" or separate the nibs from the shell with a blow-dryer. I suppose I could've gone through and picked out the tiny pieces of shell by hand, but this blow-dryer option basically sounded awesome. The experience was entirely as fulfilling as I'd dreamed, though there was definitely a technique to blowing the shells out without losing any of the heavier nibs.The product - pure, roasted, dark cacao - smelled even better than it looked, and it looked amazing: like rich, bitter, chocolatey coffee beans.
Now, I didn't have access to a food processor or an industrial juicer or anything, so for the next step, I decided to toss the roast cacao nibs into the blender with a 1/2-cup of rice milk and liquefied the whole thing into a fragrant mix, much finer-grained and smoother than the previous efforts.
This time, as I stirred the cacao at a simmer, I decided to keep the flavors simple: vanilla, sugar, and just a hint of sea salt. As it thickened into something resembling a chocolate liquor, I prepared two small bowls with a single layer of filberts at their base, and poured the liquid cacao over them. After smoothing the chocolate at the top of the bowls (which became the bottom of the tarts), I put them both in the freezer and went to pick my brother up from the train station.
With a gathering crowd of excited droolers, I swiftly finished the job and gave the green light.I'm sure you know what came next. Even with extensive help, I haven't yet managed to finish off so many treats. But don't worry; in the fullness of time, we won't let any go to waste. After all:
With excitement from all corners, I swiftly finished the job and called in the horde.
I'm sure you know what came next. Even with extensive help, I haven't yet managed to finish off so much rich chocolate. But don't worry, as the time becomes right, as the tao calls, we won't let any go to waste. After all:
The perfect traveller leaves no trail to be followed;
The perfect speaker leaves no question to be answered;
The perfect accountant leaves no working to be completed;
The perfect container leaves no lock to be closed;
The perfect knot leaves no end to be ravelled.
The perfect chocolatier, the tao whispers in my heart, will make certain to leave no chocolate uneaten. Not one bite.
