{"id":1733,"date":"2005-07-22T04:36:00","date_gmt":"2005-07-22T04:36:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2005\/07\/22\/on-a-misunderstood-mousse-and-the-girl-who-loved-it-anyway"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:20","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:20","slug":"on-a-misunderstood-mousse-and-the-girl-who-loved-it-anyway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2005\/07\/on-a-misunderstood-mousse-and-the-girl-who-loved-it-anyway\/","title":{"rendered":"On a misunderstood mousse and the girl who loved it anyway"},"content":{"rendered":"
For a good number of her formative years, my friend Jennifer<\/a> was constitutionally incapable of following a recipe. It wasn\u2019t an issue of willful aversion, nor or of culinary rebellion, but every time she tried to follow directions, something went horribly wrong<\/b>. As a pre-teen, for example, Jen whipped up a batch of her mother\u2019s famous banana nut bread as a gift for her teachers, but sadly, her loaves were destined for a different type of fame\u2014an infamy reserved for flat, gummy quick breads entirely lacking in flour. Even cake mix was iffy: one babysitterless night, we together watched a straight-from-the-box angel food cake nearly explode in her parents\u2019 oven. Today, after a recovery period of a decade or two, Jen has patched up her relationship with recipes, but she’s still not one to follow the rules. Instead, she’s built an impressive record on taking a recipe and running with it. She makes a beautiful improvised beet vinaigrette, an unusual fiddlehead fern ratatouille, and a fiery off-the-cuff chile-balsamic sauce. And, as I learned one foggy night last week in her airy San Francisco<\/a> apartment, she has a rare genius for finding rogue recipes\u2014the type that suit her best, after all\u2014and saving them from the rubbish bin<\/b>. Take, for example, her devastatingly good chocolate mousse.<\/p>\n A month or two ago, Jen and her husband Dave, both oenophiles with a weakness for California’s small Mom-and-Pop vintners, noticed that their wine rack was looking a bit overstuffed. So they asked a handful of friends to help them \u201cget rid\u201d of a few bottles, and within 24 hours, they had a dozen people and a party in their living room. There were breads, local cheeses, and fruits, but to go with the reds, Jen wanted to serve something chocolate, preferably simple, creamy, and very, very dark. So she typed the words \u201cchocolate ice cream\u201d into Epicurious<\/a>, and she promptly fell in love\u2014with a very questionable recipe. Its ratings were solidly mediocre, its reviewers ambivalent at best. \u201cThis should not be called ice cream,\u201d one fumed; \u201cIt doesn’t come close to resembling the texture of ice cream. It’s like a rich, smooth, cold fudge.<\/b> I even tried cutting down the eggs and it still wasn’t the right texture.\u201d \u201cIt’s like eating frozen chocolate mousse, not really ice cream,\u201d another noted somewhat disapprovingly. This was clearly a very misunderstood, very badly misnamed recipe. What others might call a washout was exactly<\/em> what she wanted<\/strong>. As I said, she has a certain genius.<\/p>\n Needless to say, the stuff is almost exactly as its reviewers described it, and happily so: a rich, smooth, frozen chocolate mousse, somewhere between gelato, frozen custard, and whipped cream, dark and complex and fearfully good<\/b>.<\/p>\n *Jen has yet to decide on an appropriate name for this recipe. She tends to refer to it as \u201cmy chocolate dessert,\u201d \u201cthat chocolate dessert,\u201d or \u201csomething with tons of chocolate and cream.\u201d None of these titles, however, do it justice, and neither does an analogy we invented after a few glasses of wine: It’s like Cool Whip! It doesn\u2019t freeze solid! It\u2019s like chocolate Cool Whip! <\/em>The name I have chosen below is my attempt to strike a happy\u2014and fitting\u2014medium.<\/span><\/p>\n Dark Chocolate Mousse Ice Cream<\/strong><\/a>
More dense than the average mousse but with the whipped texture of a not-quiet-frozen ice cream, it is hard to pinpoint* but alarmingly easy to eat. The guests at Jen and Dave\u2019s party had no trouble tucking it away, and last week, neither did we, even after a generous farmers\u2019 market dinner of heirloom tomatoes with balsamic vinegar and Stonehouse olive oil<\/a>; fresh gnocchi topped with morels and brown button mushrooms<\/a> saut\u00e9ed in olive oil, white wine, and lemon zest; and Acme pain au levain with Cowgirl Creamery<\/a> cheeses. As Jen scooped the mousse, Dave poured purply glasses of delicate Homewood<\/a> zinfandel port, and we sat around the candlelit table, chilly gusts of night air blowing in through the open window. Our dessert spoons sighed through the mousse, and so did we. Sometimes \u201cbad\u201d recipes are awfully good.<\/p>\n
Adapted from Epicurious<\/a><\/span>
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