Chocolate Guinness Cupcake Moment

It was warm and wanton in my hand. I was busying myself with the transferring of cakes from tin to cooling rack and this one just seemed reluctant to proceed. I did have the cream cheese frosting cooling in the fridge so could well imagine how the warmth of the fresh, dark cake would work with it in all the right ways.

A knife plunged in to the frosting and slathered on top of the newly liberated cupcake was all it took. There it wobbled for a moment, getting used to its new surroundings, before spreading languidly over the cake’s welcoming curves.

I captured the moment for posterity and then dived in for a piece of the action. Soft and dark. Creamy and cool. I actually had to sit down to get the most out of it. At one point it became too much and I cut the cake in half with a spoon, just to watch the one side tumble, softly, like a cushion.

I’m mad about moments like these…

Dark & Moist

A cheeky little slice of Baked Chocolate Fudge (taken from the Donna Hay Magazine) for a hearty supper cooked by my brother Ferdie the other night.

Night time at Choc Star

love the way Jimmy looks at night - all purrty and lit up. I took him down to Putney Embankment the other evening to furnish rampant lawyers with as much chocolate as they could handle…we guessed they were lawyers when we heard one of them, a way back in the queue, declaring “This makes a change - seeing all these powerful people standing in line so obediently”. They were certainly well behaved. It wasn’t to do with them being tame though, more that chocolate obviously meant a lot and they weren’t about to blow their opportunity for free reign once reaching the chocolate counter.

Wide-eyed faces would step up, assess the options - pouring over each plate and cake-stand laden with treats (”What’s better, the chocolate terrine or the chocolate Guinness cake?”. “Why not have both? Just putting it out there”, I’d offer. At this, the eyes would grow wider - a childlike incredulity - an ice cream added to the equation and off they’d slide with their booty of delight, back to the party and the band and the no-holds throng of a Saturday night far, far from the Bar!