eat whipped cream for breakfast.
Sometimes the universe seems to be urging me towards a particular food project, and sometimes it seems to be telling me to run far, far away.
I’ve never made truffles before, but lately it has seemed like all signs point to truffle making. It all started a few weeks ago when the barefoot contessa made truffles. “That looks like fun,” I thought, as I do every time I see someone make truffles. Really, I’m a sucker for any cooking that involves my hands getting really good and messy.
Then, for election night, I made brownie sundaes with Mexican-coffee hot fudge. (Because any election night is not to be faced without heaps of comfort food, especially if you are a 20-something rabid democrat who had never before seen your party have any flavor of electoral success.) The “hot fudge” (warm ganache) was so tasty scraped out of the container when cold that my brain instantly turned on to the idea of creating a version of it for truffles.
Who am I to resist all of these signs boldly pointing to a lazy Saturday truffle project? So this morning when I woke up I was already planning out the truffles in my head. Hoping that I would be able to make the ganache before I had to go to the grocery story I went into the kitchen to asses the heavy-cream situation.
Heavy cream is not something that I normally keep in the house, mostly because I find it hard to resist the creamy goodness. Now seemed a particularly auspicious time to make truffles because I still had some heavy cream left over from last week when I made the hot fudge. I went into the kitchen and shook the container, and it was feeling a bit light, so I had to actually measure it to see if I had the 1/2 cup I needed for the truffles. I poured it into the measuring cup, and it only turned out to be about 1/3 of a cup. Dissapointed, I was trying to decide whether to make a smaller batch of truffles or go to the grocery store while I was pouring the cream back into the carton.
All of a sudden, I felt something cold and wet splash onto my feet. Looking down in dismay, I realized that instead of pouring the cream back into the carton I had, in fact, poured it all over the floor.
“Well, I guess it will be the grocery store.” I thought with a grimace. Irritated with the disruption to my otherwise well-planned day I walked over to the trash can to throw away the carton from the heavy cream. I was just about to relinquish it to the garbage when I realized that it still felt a bit heavy. Shaking it, I realized that a few tablespoons had made it back into the container before the rest of it hit the floor.
So, I did the only thing a girl could do under the circumstances and whipped it up with a whisk and a sprinkle of raw vanilla sugar and ate it for breakfast.
Suddenly, the truffle project is looking up once again.