The redemption of the bourbon biscuit

Eastery and Spring-themed crafts are perhaps my favourite. Winter is over and colour returns. Joy.

Sprigs of blossom in a vase? Yes. Painted eggs? Obvs. Eggs hanging from said blossom? Deffo. Pompoms in the colours of French macarons? Affirmative. Hats made of daffodils? Oui.

The edible stuff offers the ultimate joy though. Last week I made chocolate All Bran mini egg nests that required half a tin of golden syrup and were denser than lead. They spread joy thoughout the land (well throughout my family anyway).

Ganache is quite important to chocolatiers at Easter time. Legend has it that it was made by mistake in a posh French restaurant when an apprentice dropped some chocolate into warm cream. When these two met the former melted slowly and gently in the latter to form a thick, glossy, chocolatey cream that cooled into a dense cocoa- and dairy-laden delight. The chef called the apprentice an ‘idiot’ for his mistake. The French for idiot is ‘ganache’.  It’s one of the finest substances known to humankind and it makes me do unseemly groans. Grab lumps of it, roll them into rough balls, chuck them into cocoa powder and you’ve made your own truffles and can pretend you’re Juliet Binoche grinding things in a twirly fifties frock and smiling saucily at Johnny Depp.

There’s a catch (a ganatch). If the temperature of the cream is too high something awful happens- the chocolate splits into a dull brown, grainy, cement-like goo with an accompanying oily liquid. Its fancy chocolatier moment is gone forever and it will never tumble happily in cocoa powder.  It’s all too easy to balls up ganache-making so I’ve only attempted it twice. The first time I made a bowl of truffley joy that lasted approx. 9 minutes before it was gobbled up by my family and I. The second time I could have grouted my bathroom with the matter I made. It was a thick sludge of sadness (although it still tasted pretty good).

Recently my youngest daughter returned from Beaver Cubs. ‘Mummy!’ she exclaimed ‘I’ve made CHOCOLATE CONKERS’. She was clutching a paper plate covered with some dubious-looking smears and seven wonky brown lumps in paper cases. Ever encouraging to my offspring’s handmade endeavours I said:

‘Oooh lovely! Er, what are they made of?’

‘Biscuits and cheese’ she replied proudly, then scampered upstairs.

I eyed the paper plate with trepidation. Several questions sprang to mind. Why has an entire troupe of Beaver Cubs made plates of what look like small donkey poos? Was she right about the cheese? Shall I eat one? Tea was still an hour or two off so I decided to be brave and bit into a lump. Presently a small choir of chocolatey angels began singing in my insides. It tasted like creamy ganache. I needed to know the recipe immediately. After grilling my six year old she offered ‘chocolatey rectangle sandwich biscuits with little holes in and creamy cheese in a tub.’

Bourbons are the most disappointing of biscuits. They promise so much: creamy filling encased by two crisp rectangles, all apparently laden with chocolate, but they never deliver. The cocoa flavour is shadowy – it’s barely there, the filling is insipid and the biscuits taste almost dusty. I shunned this biscuit at an early age after being duped by a bourbon in my Aunty Mabel’s biscuit tin. By eating this wonky lump made by a six year old in a village hall I felt I had experienced something momentous: the redemption of the Bourbon. By bishing it up with the end of a rolling pin and mixing it with Philadelphia a sort of divine ganache-like substance had been generated. Archela/Barn Owl/BeaverQueen is clearly a genius.

Today I made a batch of this miraculous, instant, cheaty, delicious ganache-like substance. I chilled it in the fridge, scooped lumps out of the bowl, rolled them into (slightly wonky) eggs and coated them in chocolate. Then I put pretty things on them and pretended I was a swanky chocolatier with a chocolaterie in the Rue de la Doo Dah in Paris. OH YES.

After that I ate three.

You will need
Half a pack of Bourbons (around 8 or 9 -own brand are fine)

Half a tub of cream cheese (about 120-140 g philidelphia or own brand work equally well)

1 desertspoon of good quality cocoa powder (I used Green and Blacks)

Your favourite chocolate, melted (optional)

Sugar paste and sprinkles (also optional)

Put the bourbons in a ziplock plastic bag (if you have one) or a big bowl. Either roll (if in bag) or bish (if in bowl) with the end of a rolling pin until they become crushed into sand-like crumbs.

Place the cream cheese in another bowl add the cocoa powder and start adding the crumbs, blending them with the cheese with a spoon. Continue adding the crumbs and blending until your mixture is a uniform creamy brown.

Pop into the fridge for 15 minutes. Remove from the fridge and take lumps of the mixture, roll it quickly in your hands and pop on a baking sheet covered in greasproof paper. Put back into the fridge for 20-30 minutes to harden a little. Eat straight away if you’re hungry

If you want to coat your truffles/eggs melt your favourite chocolate in the microwave on low. Place one of your truffles into the chocolate and roll it about gently using two forks. Lift out of the bowl, allowing excess chocolate to drop back in and place onto a baking sheet covered in greaseproof.

Whilst the chocolate is still wet place decorations onto your eggs/chocolates.

Allow the chocolate to solidify then scoff with glee