Okay, this second hiccup on my chocolate journey was the ultimate heart stopper for me. Not even the arrival of an alien spacecraft with groups of UFO’s from all over the galaxy coming to greet me would have surprised me more.
My second day I arrived, once again at the wine bar, this time to prepare my famous ganache truffles for the next day’s event. The wine bar had been more than generous with me and allowed me to come in and use their kitchen. When I arrived they had everything prepared for me and the chef’s were also there to provide me with anything else I needed. So I set to work chopping the chocolate and preparing the cream when I noticed that they were watching me intently. They seemed to be fascinated with my actions, expectant looks on their faces as if at any moment now they anticipated that I would pull out my magic wand and start chanting a magic spell to make the truffles come to life. What is it about chocolate that always elicits something magical in people? There is something mysterious about it that awes people, both in the modern day as well as centuries past, hence it’s title: food of the gods. Well alas, magic is hardly what I would say took place. They asked me questions about the preparation of the ganache, the type of chocolate, flavours etc… and I happily chirped away while I worked. How could I not talk about my favourite topic in the world? Just as I was discussing the sensitivity of the chocolate to temperatures, I noticed something very odd. The texture of my ganache was changing as I began stirring in the cream. Then all of a sudden a complete look of horror crossed my face, beads of perspiration began forming on my brow and all hell broke loose insides my brain. Oh no. This cannot be. My treasured ganache had begun to separate. In a chocolatier’s world, and one who specializes in ganache making as I do, this is the equivalent of professional suicide. (No I am not exaggerating). This just could not be happening, I am the QUEEN of ganache. Time and time again I have made perfect batches, smooth and shiny, aromas of the cacao bean and its unique flavours emanating from my spoon. But there it was, in my hands, a clump of chocolate paste with an oily substance oozing to the top. Ugh. I was shattered, and on top of that two chefs looking on at my grief in a state of confusion. But I still had another half a block of chocolate left and I could make a new one. So I scooped out the clumping mass in front of me , threw it out (Oh the pain!) and began again. This time I lost all sense of where I was and became completely engrossed in my task. I tuned into the chocolate, I began conversing with it as one would a small child trying to get him/her to cooperate. I was sending it love, cradling the bowl as if I had a new born in my hand. I am sure my onlookers must have thought I had gone completely off the deep end. But when things go awry, this is my process. I become one with the chocolate. This helps me to better understand it. It is a bit of a mystical process in a sense, almost a meditative state, and something that requires a completely separate blog post to explain. 
So here I was now at the moment of truth. 60 seconds of bated breath and praying. I slowly tipped the pan to allow the cream to cover the chocolate, and then, holding my breath began to stir. Waiting, waiting as the chocolate melted down and then… ARGH!!!! The dreaded separation YET AGAIN began. I just couldn’t understand it, and on top of that I had completely wasted a full kilo of fantastic chocolate. Dammit. I couldn’t have been more deflated, quite honestly downright depressed. This was not good. I covered up the mess and put it in the refrigerator anyway just in case the truffle fairy came by in the middle of the night to wave her magic wand and fix it, and then left.
I discussed what happened to a chef friend of mine who was cooking dinner that evening for us, and his first response was “ but did you check the heat of the stove?” I of course said yes, I had it on low, but he gave me a bit of an odd look and then said, “yes, but industrial stoves are much hotter than a regular kitchen stove. The cream will overheat much quickly and without you realizing it.” I looked at the group sheepishly, I had never worked with an industrial stove so I had no idea about temperatures associated with it. I was beyond relieved. My skills and reputation were saved! I hadn’t been suddenly possessed by some evil chocolate truffle hating spirit trying to thwart the spread of chocolatey goodness in the world. My motivation kicked in and I set to work again that night in my friend’s kitchen. There I was at 1am in the morning preparing a new batch for the event the next night. I was determined that people would taste my creations, even if it meant staying up the whole night to get it done.
This was an interesting experience for me and a humbling one. Things won’t always turn out as I expect, in fact I may just downright fail in some things I set out to do. But there is always something to learn and the experience is always going to move me forward on my chocolate journey.
