And then it was winter...

I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that summer is officially over in Edmonton. The sun didn't rise until 7:20 this morning and it set by 7:30 pm. It's chilly enough in the mornings now that I can see my breath. My tomatoes have hardly had a chance to ripen. They might never know what it feels like to be red and juicy, poor, green darlings. The grass is frosty early in the morning and the tile floor in our bathroom is cold. Our windows are starting to show condensation. Despite all this irrefutible evidence that winter is well and truly on its way, I have the crazy ability to harbour an absurdly naive hope of another warm spell.

I am afraid I can harbour that hope no longer, for, over the last week, I have experienced the truest, most dependable sign of the inevitability of winter.

I have start having rather more frequent urges to take my chocolate in (hot) liquid form rather than in bar form. Winter. Is. Here.

Over the years, my hot chocolate-making has evolved froma a fairly standard routine into one of deliberation and decadence. There is an art to creating this creamy, thick and rich brown liquid. It is certainly not the powdered Cadbury's mix with frustratingly tiny nuggets of dessicated marshmallow of my childhood. It's more of an Italian hot chocolate of the sort you might find at Brunetti's on Lygon Street in Carlton, the "Little Italy" of Melbourne. Rich and thick, just like George W.

To achieve this positively presidential hot chocolate, I gently simmer a mixture of 2/3 milk and 1/3 cream in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, in which I've floated some spices. Sometimes I use cinnamon bark, or cardamom pods. Sometimes peppercorns and a clove or two. Sometimes all of them.

This time to a total 3 cups of liquid, I added a few cloves, a small wedge of cinnamon bark and about 3 inches of peel (pith removed) from a lovely organic satsuma orange. Into the mixture I whisked 2/3 cup of organic sugar (half white, half brown), a coarsely chopped large (375gm) block of Green & Black's organic dark chocolate and a 1/4 cup of organic dutch process cocoa powder. I whisked gently for a few minutes, adjusting the sugar and the cocoa. The addition of the cocoa is not so much for flavour (although it does add some), as it is for the deep rich colour it imparts and the fact that, if you simmer it in the hot milk for a few minutes, it provides a slight thickening and makes the cocoa all the more creamy.

I fished out the bits of spice and peel and served this very hot. It's not a quaffing cocoa, rather a sipping and reading cocoa. Perfect for a late autumn afternoon spent half dozing on the couch with the (cutest) kittens (in the whole wide world) and a good book.

As for the good book, I highly recommend A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. It's the perfect book for an afternoon like this one.

Comments

[Chantelle]

And I thought you would never reveal the ingredients for the best damn cup of hot chocolate that I had ever had. I'm reminded right now of sitting around your table after thoroughly enjoying a Sunday roast chicken supper. Lovely.

[ce]

Ahh.. I used to live just around the corner from Brunetti in Melbourne, sweet sweet memories. How I loved that city and especially Lygon and Brunswick St. Thanx for reminding me!

[Ruth]

What a wonderful post - very bittersweet - couldn't resist ;)

Summer still seems to be lingering here in Toronto and I'm not complaining but the hot chocolate does sound wonderful.

[Luisa]

That is such a lovely gem of a book. Good for curling up in a big chair with! It's still warm here in NYC but I'm looking forward to the kind of weather you described...

[Moira]

This sounds absolutely amazing! I've been making mochas these last few mornings and have had the same thoughts as you about the changing of the seasons. I'll have to try your recipe this weekend for a change of pace...thanks.

[Rachael]

It may not be hot chocolate weather here for another few months (thankfully!) but I am dreaming about hot chocolate now anyway. Great post.
:-)

[Joan]

Hey, I remember having your cocoa that amazing Edmonton summer day (the only one) when K. and I went to see the Queen (of England - honest!) and sat out in the rain for 5 hours at a temperature just above freezing. The cocoa you made us had a great deal of booze in it, this recipe seems to be missing about 3 oz of rum per cup.

[Niki]

Brunetti's hot chocolate is the best in Melbourne. We decided this after an exhaustive search last winter! You can practically stand your spoon up in the cup. And now I have your recipe to make something that sounds even more decadent!
We're heading into Summer now, but I wish we were going backwards through winter and autumn again; Melbourne does autumn so very well....

[Randi]

Its getting a little chilly here in Southwestern Ontario too. Poo!!

[Davina]

Once you've tried Equal Exchange (organic, fair trade) baking cocoa, you'll never be so cavalier about cocoa powder again. We are a household of hot chocolate addicts, and did a blind taste test with six brands. This one whupped the pants off all the others (including some much pricier ones). It had a much deeper, roastier and more complex flavor than the competition. Enjoy!

Here's how I've been making my hot chocolate lately. It takes some getting used to, but if you prefer your coffee unsweetened, you'll probably like this, too.

2 Tbs. cocoa powder
3 Tbs. milk

Since the cocoa doesn't dissolve well on its own without sugar, use a hand blender to mix until a smooth, syrupy consistency is achieved.

Add 8 oz. scalded milk and (optional) 1/2 tsp vanilla extract or other flavorings to the cocoa mixture.