Tag Archives: chocolate

chocolate-sesame truffles

10 Jun

chocolate sesame truffles

Pictured, two of my flatmate’s favourite things: healthy, ‘bio’ (organic) German products – nuts, seeds, muesli that she brings back from Berlin – and chocolate. Preferably the 74% cacao from our local supermarket. We have a never-ending supply of the bright green packets. Her desk normally consists of a laptop, papers, pens, books … chocolate. After a meal, dessert, coffee, she likes to eat one square of it. This intrigues me: I have never been a one-square kind of person. All, or none. But I am learning from her. In fact, when the chocolate is so dark and bitter, a little piece is just enough. Especially with an espresso, the perfect balance. These truffles made me think of her: tahini and sesame oil stand in for the butter in a classic ganache, giving them a seriously punchy flavour. I try to have one at a time.

(I am making my way through The Pastry Department recipe archive, one by one.)


Chocolate sesame truffles

from the pastry department – makes 30-50, depending on size

180g dark chocolate (65-75% cacao)

120g heavy / whipping cream (30-35% fat)

2g salt (a big pinch)

20g tahini

10g sesame oil

Chop the chocolate finely (can be done in a food processor). Heat the cream and salt until it starts to boil, then pour over the chocolate. Cover with plastic wrap, so that it is touching the surface of the mixture, and let stand for 3 minutes. This will allow the chocolate to melt gently without losing any liquid to evaporation. Remove plastic, squeezing out any remaining cream. Stir gently with a whisk until smooth then add the tahini and sesame oil. If it looks like it is starting to split, whisk in 1-2 tsp hot water, a teaspoon at a time.

To make the truffles you can pipe blobs of mixture onto a tray, refrigerate, and then roll them round; or pipe into small silicone candy moulds – mine are demi-spheres. Or you can pour the mixture into a flat, square, lightly greased tupperware.

Chill until fully set, then roll into balls, release from the silicone, or cut into squares, respectively. Toss in cocoa to coat. Keep refrigerated but allow them a few minutes to come to room temperature before eating. Should last for a week or so in the fridge. If you are not too greedy.

blueberry, chocolate and coconut soufflés

23 Jan

souffle 3

(The day I remembered I loved Paris, for future reference when the city seems cold and shrill once again.)

Woken by the sun and the commotion of traffic, earlier than a holiday, already three hours later than my workday, I pulled on a blue dress to walk to the corner bakery for breakfast. On the way back I snapped off the point of the baguette to test; at home I knocked over the clothes rack and woke you. We had our croissants dipped in coffee and apricots plump with juice.

Late as ever we caught the metro to the Opera Garnier, to be tourists for the morning. The guide asked the children in our tour group who might have designed the palatial structure: not a trick question. Charles Garnier was not long left the Beaux Arts, winner of the prestigious Prix de Rome when he was asked to design a new opera house for Napoleon III. A rainbow of marble, intricate Italian mosaics and real gold leaf plastered everywhere lead into the main auditorium where we tipped our heads back to admire the scandalously modern Chagall ceiling, seven tonne chandelier and ring of soft globe lights, Garnier’s “pearl necklace.” We laughed to hear that the best seats had been designed to be seen, not to see the stage. On the roof there are beehives (honey sold at Fauchon down the street), while underneath in the reservoir that served for fire safety as well as acoustics, firemen fish for carp. We looked out over the main avenue, marvelled at the sheer scale and detail of the building. I learned things, for even after three years living here my list of sights is still unfinished. We worked up an appetite for our next eating, a short walk away.

On the menu were soufflés, savoury and sweet. An unassuming restaurant behind the fancy hotels that flank the Tuileries that offers a lunchtime menu of soufflé and green salad followed by soufflé and coffee. Brought with due pomp and circumstance, they did not risk falling; they were very stable but still light and airy inside. Rich with cheese and egg, really just an omelette dolled up for the opera in a hoop skirt, they are extremely satisfying to eat. Their colours decorated the plain dining room: craggy mountain green for spinach and goat’s cheese, tutu pink for raspberry. Chocolate has its own sauceboat. The Grand Marnier comes with a whole bottle to souse as liberally as you wish. Though some of the flavours veered on artificial (peach and apricot was too much like perfumed soap for me) overall the airy creatures were delicious, they were fun.

Blinking at the glare from the sun, we crossed the Tuileries for some lèche-vitrine in St-Germain. Literally “window-licking”, but we were too full even for Pierre Herme macarons. You suggested we see the Chagall expo in the Luxembourg gardens, inspired by the ceiling, a pathway through exile, love and grief all in primary colours. We had time for a swim, the cool water open to the air. You spotted the twins, a pair of identical seventy-year-old sisters in matching cap and costume (later, the same trousers and cardigans) that we had seen at a different Parisian pool years before.

Enough time to traipse home, less sticky and hot, to change for the opera. We were happily over-dressed for an under-done building – it wasn’t the morning’s gilt edifice but the rather more intimate Bouffes du Nord, discovered by Peter Brook in the 70s and left in its charmingly dilapidated state. The paint peels off the rusty-red walls, the front row is directly on the stage. Props comprised only some upright bamboo poles, to serve as palace and jungle and sword.  The whole surroundings left space for the ethereal music, The Magic Flute, sung in German, enough to give you chills; and the quick banter, mostly in French. It was short, an hour and a half of suspended time, breath held. Afterwards it took us a while to shake off the wonder, despite the prosaic metro ride home. You bought some mint from the Indian shop down the road; we sat on the balcony just big enough for two and ate salad. At 11pm, the traffic was still buzzing, the neon-clashing lights of the internet shop below still lit. We gazed at the tree above, talked about nothing and finally went to bed.

souffle 1

Tours at the Opera Garnier (in English at 11.30am and 2.30pm, Wed/Sat/Sun or every day in holidays and July/August)

Lunch at Le Soufflé, (€26 menu, best to book, tel: +33 142602719)

Swim at Piscine Georges Hermant (outdoor pool only in summer)

Opera, theatre, concerts at Les Bouffes du Nord

…and if we hadn’t been so tired, it would have been supper at the best (vegetarian) Indian in Paris, Krishna Bhavan.


Since then, I thought soufflés a little intimidating to make at home, especially in my small oven. Rowley Leigh rescued me with his detailed and clear instructions that took up more of his column than usual. His soufflé Vendôme – a cheese one with a poached egg in the middle that miraculously stays runny – with tomato sauce is just right, rich and fluffy with the contrasting tang of tomato. Again for emphasis: it has a poached egg suspended in a cloud of cheese. Wondrous. So good in fact that I will do it no justice by paraphrasing, so here is the link: Rowley Leigh’s Soufflé Vendôme. He makes six starters, but for a main course you can make the same amount of mixture, only three poached eggs and bake in larger dishes (10cm).

Here is a dessert instead, one that worked first time and would be infinitely adaptable. It has a fruit base, with little pockets of melted chocolate and coconut for texture, and it rose like a dream. The blueberries did turn the egg whites an alarming shade of grey-blue but were delicious nonetheless. You can use frozen fruit since it is then cooked down into a jammy mixture, to recreate the summer, until it is time for dresses and pools again.

souffle 2

Blueberry,chocolate and coconut soufflés

From Australian Gourmet Traveller, December 2013

Makes 6 – Works with cherries, raspberries or other soft fruit. Try to find shredded coconut rather than desiccated, it is chunkier and juicier.

Cocoa + soft butter for moulds

200g (frozen) blueberries

110g caster sugar, divided in half

15g cornflour

150g egg whites (5 eggs)

60g dark chocolate (70%)

40g shredded coconut + extra for sprinkling

Grease six small ramekins (or oven-proof coffee cups with straight sides) with the soft butter. Then tip in a teaspoon of cocoa and roll ramekin around until the sides are totally coated. Tip excess into next ramekin, repeat. Refrigerate.

Defrost blueberries and blend them roughly, leaving a few chunky bits. In a small saucepan, heat puree with half the caster sugar (55g) until it dissolves. Pour a little into a small bowl with the cornflour and mix well to remove lumps. Tip it back into the saucepan with the rest and simmer, stirring every now and then, for 10 minutes or so until thick like jam. Let cool.

Measure out the egg whites and remaining 55g caster in separate bowls. Chop the chocolate finely, weigh the coconut. Stop at this point, if you are not ready to eat dessert. Egg whites whip better at room temperature anyway. (Alternatively, make up the soufflés and refrigerate for 1 hour before baking.)

While serving the main course, heat the oven to 190C. When main course is over, boil the kettle. Then beat the egg whites to stiff peaks, adding the sugar gradually as it becomes opaque. Stir a spoonful of whites into the blueberries. Carefully fold everything together without losing the volume. Spoon into the six ramekins and smooth the tops. Run a knife around the edge to help it rise. Sprinkle a little coconut on each. Place in a deep baking tray or roasting tin and fill it with the boiling water, halfway up the sides of the ramekins. Bake for 11-12 minutes. The soufflés should have browned and risen a couple of centimetres and feel firm to touch. Insert a skewer to check: it should have a bit of melted chocolate on it but not drippy mixture. Place each ramekin on a small plate and serve immediately.

Chocolate passion-fruit torte

15 Nov

passionfruit torte 1

It always make me sad when, upon admitting what I do for a living, I am told “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly bake a cake for you!” I learned to be a pastry chef because I like to eat cake and because I know how much pleasure it affords to offer cake to others and have them enjoy it. Baking is a pure indulgence, both in the construction and consumption, a fairy tale of spun sugar. If people are afraid to bake for me, they lose out on that satisfied feeling of having created something totally frivolous and yet universally appreciated. What’s more, I would miss out on their speciality, their tricks and tastes. I love collecting others’ recipes and have miles more to learn.

My cousin said exactly that when she brought over my birthday cake and it turned out to be wonderful, a soft chocolate sponge iced with a mix of whipped cream and Greek yoghurt, covered all over with sweet shreds of coconut. (Almost like a reverse lamington?) It was actually a variation on my favourite kind of summer cake, sponge and fruit and cream. So when the family challenged me to make something for the next week, I had to think again.

passionfruit torte 2

This was the result, a total show-off’s torte, two punchy flavours and five different techniques. Soft almond meringue sponges sandwich glossy passion-fruit jelly, rich chocolate ganache and buttery passion-fruit curd, all iced with a delicate chocolate Chantilly. The thin layers all meld for a bittersweet mouthful, tempered by the luxurious cream. In reality though, it is not difficult to prepare, as long as you start the evening before so everything can cool. The sponges, less than a centimetre thick, take a few minutes to cook and the ganache and jelly are both left to set in cake tins so they can just be flipped out in the morning.

This quantity of passion-fruit curd makes more than you will need for the cake, but it uses up the egg yolks and is delightful on toast. (A friend of mine introduces me not as ‘Frances, pastry chef’ but ‘Frances, this one time she made passion-fruit curd…’ It is that good.) For a simpler cake, omit one or two of the layers: just use passionfruit jelly and curd, for example. Or easier still, make the meringue sponge then fill and decorate with Greek yoghurt and fresh passionfruit.

passionfruit torte 3

Chocolate passion-fruit torte

makes 12 elegant slices

The passion-fruit pulp I used came in a tin, 55% fruit including seeds, plus water and sugar. You can find it in supermarkets or speciality baking stores. G. Detou in Paris sells passion-fruit purée which is less sweet and has no seeds, so sweeten the curd and jelly accordingly. I wouldn’t recommend using fresh fruit simply because it will require too many, at least a dozen if not more. Alternatively, substitute with half orange and half lemon juice. 

The curd, jelly, ganache and Chantilly need to be made the day before. If  possible, assemble everything a few hours before serving. Continue reading

green & black’s chicken mole

4 May


The only saving grace in drastically screwing up my holiday dates and arriving in England a week early for a planned holiday with friends was the book I had ordered, with the idea of savouring it on the beach in Cornwall. Luckily, I suppose, I didn’t make it out of London before I realised my mistake. My brother made me a cup of tea – “because I understand that’s what you do in these sorts of situations” –  I cried hysterically, bought three more Eurostar tickets and went back to Paris, and to the bakery for another week.

My colleagues teased me only a little, having waved goodbye to me and my overstuffed suitcase only 24 hours previously. The book went in my work bag along with neatly rolled apron, chef jacket and trousers.  It was Anne Lamott’s latest journal, about her grandson’s birth and her trip to India, ‘Some Assembly Required.’ On the way home after work I became so lost in her words I missed my metro stop and had to walk back, blinking at the bright sunlight.

Her honest open writing, her willingness and skill in describing her vulnerability, paranoia and love always amaze me, constantly make me laugh. Searching for a quote to read to a friend, I found a good one on every page. Liked a throwaway line about spring:

‘a few cool blue skies, new grass, wildflowers and I’m in love. You’re going to fall for that old magic trick again? Oh, yeah.’

Paris has welcomed me back with a scrubbed-clean spring face. She can be such a tease, playing it cold and distant for months, then just when you think you can cope without her, she magicks up some blossoms, begs for forgiveness. And I fall for it every time.

The sunshine makes all the difference, of course. Suddenly the words are unspooling in my head again, finally my desire to cook for myself has come back, long dormant. I love cooking for friends, guests, presents – but alone, tired, grumpy? Not so much. Rather like a good night’s sleep after a week at work, everything seems shinier in the spring. People seem more attractive. Or maybe the Parisians finally have smiles on their faces as they drink beer by the canal and swing their legs over the water.


So I come home with energy and compassion, and fall on the recipe for Chicken Mole. Inspired by another book I received from a dear friend, ‘Like Water for Chocolate’  – a Mexican tale of magical realism, emotion poured into cooking – the casserole of chicken, tomatoes, paprika and chocolate transmitted all the love and warmth I had been missing over the winter.

Simple enough – you brown the chicken, cook some onions and garlic, add tins of tomatoes and beans and the final touch of chocolate and smoky chilis or paprika. (I snuck in a roasted red pepper and a little extra chocolate as well.)  Then stick the pot in the oven for the flavours to bind and deepen for at least an hour and a half. Today I served it over a plain accompaniment of brown rice and devoured half of it standing up by the window. It tasted earthy and wholesome, not specifically of chocolate so much as a complex blend of savoury flavour.  Tomorrow I will hunt for ripe avocados and corn tortillas as the recipe suggests, and I cannot wait. I am properly hungry again. It is a good feeling.

Next week I will be on holiday again, for real. The total cost of the aborted trip twists my insides a little, and it may well rain in Cornwall. But if I can hold onto the spring feeling regardless, and listen to the words and recipes growing … if I can weave half as good a story out of it – my seemingly endless screw-ups, my relationship with this tricky city – as Lamott does, then I will be extremely grateful.


Chicken Mole

from the Green & Black’s ‘Unwrapped’ chocolate recipe book, as inspired by Laura Esquivel’s ‘Like Water for Chocolate‘ – they advise serving with avocado salad and corn tortillas, or, if for vegetarians, replacing the chicken with an extra tin of kidney beans 

should serve 4 

1 large red pepper

4 chicken legs (thigh and drumstick)

2 tbs olive oil

2 large onions

2 garlic cloves

2 smoked, dried Jalapeno chili peppers, soaked in water

OR 2 tsp smoked sweet paprika

400g tin red kidney beans

400g tin chopped tomatoes

100g dark chocolate, min 60% cocoa solids



Stab the red pepper all over with a fork and bake in a 200C oven until soft and blackened.

Brown the chicken in the olive oil in a large oven proof casserole. After a few minutes, when the chicken has a little colour, add the onions and garlic. When they are translucent, add the beans (with all the liquid in the tin), the tomatoes, 50g of the chocolate. Either chop the dried and soaked chilis and add them in along with the soaking water, or use the smoked paprika. Bring to a simmer.

By this time the pepper should be done. Lower oven temperature to 150C. Remove pepper stalk and seeds, then roughly chop it and add to pot. Cover and place in the oven for at least 90 minutes.

Skim off any fat. Taste and add the rest of chocolate if needed, as well as some salt.

party food : desserts

13 Nov

To go with the tea and rum, a colourful selection of miniature desserts: classic carrot cake with a neon turmeric icing, pomegranate and grapefruit jellies with vanilla pannacotta and chocolate peanut butter spiral cookies.

Warm spices in the cupcakes: cloves  and cinnamon and the slightest hint of turmeric. A classic chocolate peanut combination for cookie lovers. And tart fruit jelly, smooth vanilla cream in a shot glass. Portable and pretty.


Carrot cupcakes with turmeric icing

Make up the basic recipe as mini cupcakes. Add 1/2 – 1 tsp turmeric to icing and beat well until bright yellow. Pipe a star shaped blob onto cupcakes and top with a hazelnut.

Pomegranate and grapefruit jellies

The night before, make a small batch of pannacotta. Allow to cool, then half-fill shot glasses and refrigerate. Heat 500ml grapefruit juice with 2 tbsp sugar. Add gelatine (amounts vary according to type, see packet for instructions), leave to partially set. When a little wobbly, spoon onto pannacotta, sprinkling some pomegranate seeds inside and on top of the jelly.

Chocolate peanut butter spiral cookies

Recipe wholeheartedly lifted from here. Make and roll out two colours of cookie dough, then roll up again togetherfor a zebra effect. Very pretty effect, but next time I would dip the bottoms in dark chocolate for a little more intensity.

alice in wonderland cookies (sablées à la cannelle et cardamome)

27 May

Somewhat selfishly, going home often gets trumped by more exciting places. October meant four sunny days in Barcelona. Christmas was a narrow escape from the snow to Australian beaches. February half term, tea in Munich. Easter, Milan. This summer will be the first time back in Hereford for almost a year.

Home is a beautiful house with a flowery garden, an orchard full of chickens and a trampoline. Big airy rooms. Two sly cats looking to hop up onto a spare lap or an open newspaper. Always something baking in the oven.

But in two or in three, the big rooms echo a little. The dining table seems a little too long. We often end up on the sofa instead, a pan of Sunday-night risotto on the coffee table. Or in the new conservatory with fried eggs and green leaves.

Coming up the drive, lined with daffodils in the spring, I muddle through a tangle of emotions. Comfort, nostalgia, missing. Is missing an emotion? But by not going home, I don’t get to avoid that black hole. In fact, I miss out. I miss out on the familiar. This December, for the first time in years I had to cancel the Christmas Eve Eve tradition of biscuit making.

Five girls (although once one of them was so far away we had to bring a photo replacement) and batches of chocolate and speculoos biscuits to hang on the Christmas tree. Because my mother is Australian, and proud of it, we mainly used patriotic cookie cutters: kangaroos, sheep, the Sydney harbour bridge and opera house. The sheep would always tragically lose a leg in the cutting.

Someone would invariably end up with white flour handprints on their black jeans. There would probably be a mad dash around the counter chased by a demon with a flour shaker. Lots of dancing, lots of raw dough eating. By the time the trays and trays came out of the oven, we didn’t even want to look at the sugary morsels.

This year I’m hoping we can have a summer version of the biscuits tradition. Certainly a summer party: a strange jumble of friends and family milling around outside, eating strawberries, playing croquet. But it would be nice to have a flour fight again, to swap stories of all the grand events and small insignificant moments of the last year. To fill up the house with people.

I will bring my new cookie cutter to rival even the favourite kangaroo. A scalloped rectangle with a grid of letters to be inserted as you like, to spell out love and profanities. I can already see “Hello Sunshine” and “Minger” crookedly stamped onto hearts as we all fight to write our own messages.

Today, I made Alice in Wonderland EAT ME biscuits with a hint of cinnamon and cardamom, appropriate for May but dreaming of December. Sweet and sandy, backed by dark chocolate, they beg to be shared.

Alice in Wonderland cookies

(adapted from Smitten Kitchen, who used a recipe from Dorie Greenspan)

makes about 35 cookies

140g butter, room temperature

125g light brown sugar

1 egg

280g flour

1 tsp cinnamon/cloves/cardamom spice mix

pinch of salt

100g chocolate

Blend the butter with a hand blender/food processor until smooth. Add the sugar, blend until incorporated. Add the egg, blend to a silky consistency. Stir in the flour and pulse the blender until large clumps start to form. Gently push the dough together with your hands into a ball. Divide into two balls and press into a flat disc. Wrap in clingfilm and cool in the fridge for a couple of hours.

Preheat oven to 180°C. Flour your worktop and rolling pin. One disc at a time, carefully roll out the mixture to an even thickness of about 1/2 cm. Stamp out your cookies with a floured cookie cutter. You might need to go over the lettering to make sure it is properly stamped. Place them about 1cm apart on a large baking tray lined with baking paper. Bake for 10 minutes. They will be just set and a light beige colour, not yet brown. Leave to cool.

Melt the chocolate  in the microwave in a small shallow bowl. Dip the bottoms of the cookies in chocolate. Or if you have no lettering on top, dip half the cookies in chocolate for a contrasting effect.

The mixture will keep for a few days in the fridge, or a few weeks in the freezer, so you can make a batch at a time.

nuit tranquille and chocolate truffles (second simple pleasure)

10 May

Sleep when you are tired.

As 1000 Awesome Things would confirm, sleep is awesome.

Dog tired, you creep up the stairs in the dark and slip into bed. Just one moment of wriggly delight in the cool enveloping covers and then you drop like a stone into sleep.

Mildly sleepy, you tuck yourself up with a cup of tea and a book that gets heavier and heavier until it too falls. Watching what is supposed to be a classic movie on the sofa, your eyelids blink, close, rest until the dialogue becomes a lullaby.

Or even on the train, rocked by the whirling scenery, you doze, drowse, even sleep deeply, securely.

Illicit, brief, deep, delicate, all kinds of sleep feel luxurious to me. The idea of a nap or a long dream-filled night fills me with a disproportionate joy. Something that I sometimes forget about until I am deprived and grumpy.

A simple pleasure that is apparently worth a LOT. One extra hour of sleep a night could make you happier than a generous pay rise, according to one study.

And if you can’t sleep? Elephant’s nuit tranquille tea has always worked like a drug for me. (I once bought 100 teabags and was nearly laughed out of tte French supermarket. It was a Friday evening.) The soothing taste of pure chocolate and cream has the same effect. A heady herby concoction with an obligatory chocolate chaser: the simplest chocolate truffles.

Simple chocolate truffles

Use a chocolate that you really like to eat plain. I love Green and Black’s Maya Gold for its hint of orange and spices.

200g chocolate

175ml cream

25g butter, cubed

Break the chocolate into small pieces. Heat the chocolate and the cream in a small bowl on a very low heat in the microwave. Do not let the cream boil. When the chocolate has all but melted, stir it very gently. Add the butter and stir again. Leave the mixture to cool until solid enough to hold its shape.

Scoop out teaspoonfuls of mixture. Either shape rough truffles with two teaspoons or attempt to roll them in your hands (covered first with cocoa). For the simplest finish, dust the truffles in more cocoa. Alternatively, roll them in very finely chopped nuts. Pistachios are nice for the colour contrast. Leave in a cool dark place as long as you can resist eating them.

(According to the fancy chocolate shop where I worked, chocolate is technically supposed to be kept between 16-18C. Much cooler and the cocoa butter separates, creating that white dusty bloom. But if it is summer and you do want to keep them in the fridge, take them out a few minutes before you want to eat them.)

homemade nutella

5 Apr

How do you know when you have a problem?

When you make two jars of homemade Nutella in a week, supposedly for “presents”?

When you spread the warm chocolate onto rye crackers to make it “healthy”?

When you use a spatula to do so because its more “convenient”?

Chocolate crack, people. Be warned. It tastes like Nutella with all its senses enlightened, buzzed, the colours sharper and the sounds louder. With more real chocolate, more nuts, more milk than the shop stuff, you may have to hide the spoons. And the spatulas. Especially when it is still warm from the melted chocolate, scenting the house with toasted caramel.

My little brother (not so little anymore) and I have been known to buy the promotional kilo of Nutella, capped with a shiny gold lid. A trophy in the cupboard. It fell victim to a tragic accident, smashed, left shards of glass speckling the rich chocolatey ooze.

Years later, for his 21st birthday, I made him this adult-only version. Already much more responsible than I am – determined, talented and kind – he has no need of advice on how to be a grown-up. But maybe a reminder of how to be a child: a little red glass jar full of homemade Nutella.

Homemade Nutella

(adapted from David Lebovitz)

Makes one fat jar

Depending on your sweet tooth, you might want to add more or less milk or dark chocolate. 100g dark + 50g milk chocolate made a sophisticated bittersweet version, while 100g milk + 50g dark chocolate gave a smooth sweet taste more like the original.

200g hazelnuts
150g chocolate – mix of milk and dark
180ml whole milk
75g powdered milk
1 ½ tbsp mild honey
pinch of salt

Roast the hazelnuts for 5 minutes in a hot oven (200C). They should be light brown and smell toasty. If they still have their skins on, tip them into a clean tea towel and rub until most of the skin flakes off. Blend the hazelnuts with a food processor or a hand blender to a fine oily sludge.  (May take a few minutes depending on the strength of your blender.)

Meanwhile, melt the chocolate in the microwave on low heat. In a separate bowl, stir the milk, powdered milk, honey and salt together. Microwave the mixture on high until just about to boil.

Add the melted chocolate to the hazelnut paste and blend it all together. Gradually add the milk and continue to blend to a Nutella-like consistency. It may seem a little runny, but when it cools it should be just right.

(Supposedly keeps in the fridge for a couple of weeks.)

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