CHOCK A BLOCK WITH NEW IDEAS

MyChocolate

Unit B1
Hatton Square Business Centre
16-16A Baldwins Gardens
London, EC1N 7RJ

0207 269 5760

www.mychocolate.co.uk

 

SUNDAY afternoon. I’m walking out of Chancery Lane tube station heading into the unknown.

The destination is a course in chocolate making. I’m in unfamiliar territory. Yes, I enjoy cooking, but making chocolates? That’s a different world.

It is with trepidation that I make my way towards a factory unit in a side street. The co-ordinates are pressed and I am welcomed into a reception area. It is clinical and unnverving.

Within minutes I’m joined by around 24 people – and a guide dog – and we talk excitedly about the prospect.

Most are chocoholics. Many drool over the prospect of creating their own to have a ready supply to eat. Others crave the secrets of making chocolates to extend their culinary skills. All eulogise about chocolate. It seems a compulsion, an obsession. 

From my point of view there is only one other man, scary. We are ushered forward and walk down a flight of stairs into the basement and pick a seat. We make polite conversation and, thankfully, nobody seems to be an expert despite the fact that some seem to be accomplished cooks.

In strides Richard, our tutor. He explains the basics of the cocoa bean and we get to work.

We wash our hands, thoroughly, and then break up chocolate into a bowl. It is then whisked away for melting. When it returns and we get to work.

A chocolate biscuit is created using both plain and milk chocolate. It is simple, two tablespoons of plain chocolate and then a drizzle of milk chocolate.

After that, you could add a topping of coconut, hundreds and thousands or rose petals. No rules, design your own. However, the competitive nature of the delegates quickly became apparent so did the artistic skills, or lack of skills, of others.

We then split into teams to create chocolate balls with the addition of cream. This process is simple when you have an expert on hand.

But, boy does this process make a mess. I didn’t feel out of place as there was chocolate everywhere. Richard said the process would transport us back to childhood. He was so right.

Working in pairs, and against the clock, we filled a plastic piping bag – too difficult to wash chocolate from a muslin one, we were told - of the rich, dark mix.

Jenny, my partner for the exercise, then extracted the mix – about the size of a golf ball - onto the table and I rolled them in the cocoa, on the points of my fingers as the palm gives off too much heat.

Jenny cheated. Some of the chocolate didn’t make the mix. Temptation was strong and it ended up being eaten.

My grand-daughter would love this, I thought, as I rolled the chocolate and cream mix into balls and I dipped my imperfect chocolate shapes into the rich, dark liquid.

Removing them with a fork before then melted and without creating an almighty mess in an art. Much of the chocolate, I’m afraid, ended up on the table instead of the greaseproof paper.

But, we ended up bagging enough of our home-made chocolates to take them home as souvenirs. I forecast that they would not last long. They didn’t.

Everybody hugely enjoyed the experience, including the guide dog who lapped up all the scraps.

There were grand-dads, mums and daughters and parties of friends in our group and the excited chatter as we departed into the winter chill underlined how much participants had gained from the experience.

Me? Well, I’m determined to make some more. The effect is stunning and the effort minimal providing, of course, you adhere to simple principals. OK, my daughter just happened to mention what I had done to my grand-daughter and she wants to try. Surprise, surprise but a message for gran – be prepared for a mess in the kitchen.

The chocolate making workshops organised by MyChocolate are billed as an indulgent experience. They were for many on Sunday.

They are designed for corporate clients, team building or planning a hen party or for a gift experience and are run in London, Manchester and Brighton.

The two hours flew past. By the way, my chocolates didn’t last five minutes.