You know Easter is approaching when...

...gourmet shops and delis begin to stock chocolate Easter eggs.

Walking home from the bus stop, I always peek in the store windows at Gargani. Today the view was completely blocked by a single shipment of chocolate eggs. Why so much of it, you ask? Easter chocolate is a big thing here! 

Besides roast lamb, Pastiera, hard boiled eggs, salame corallina and cheese-bread, Italians also consume huge quantities of chocolate for Easter. Mini egg-shaped truffles, gold chocolate bunnies, dark chocolate bells, and the classic hollow eggs that come in every size, and each bearing a trinket surprise inside. 

The ones pictured here in particular, are Swiss dark choclate coated in ground Piemonte hazelnuts. I know even if the boxes are sealed, because this is the one sure place I find my Noccior.

Soon much of the contents of these boxes will populate homes across Italy, make children smile, and deposit ruthlessly on thighs nationwide.

Bring it on.

Chocolate ravioli recipe

Yes, chocolate.

While lazily shopping for staples in a new supermarket a few days ago, I came across a famous Italian brand of commercially sold fresh pasta–not the dried variety, nor the kind extruded through precious metal dies–but one that actually fulfills one of my biggest fantasies. Chocolate pasta.

I'm not talking about a vague flavoring, or a slight a beige hue, no. This is serious choco-mania material. Large percentage of fair trade cacao mixed into the dough, and a decadent chunky hazelnut chocolate filling.

The term ravioli just went up a notch.

What follows may not be a crowd pleaser. But my name is Eleonora and I am a chocoholic. So bear with me on this one.

The manufacturer calls these "tortelli" given their exotic filling, even if in this particular case they're square-shaped and stuffed, like what I'm more comfortable calling 'ravioli.' For more on pasta shapes and types, please read my La pasta! post.

The box suggested the pasta be served as a quirky dessert, and offered a number of original cooking ideas. But I had to experiment with flavors, and take my chocofantasy all the way.

So I boiled the ravioli in salted water.

I prepared a basic dressing. What you normally do when employing star ingredients that need to shine, like white truffles, garden sage or a special stuffed pasta, like in this case.

This every day elemental dressing is salted butter and very good quality, aged Parmigiano-Reggiano.

Fresh pasta needs very little cooking, the box said 2 minutes.

I drained the ravioli, saving a little starchy cooking water. I poured them into my bowl with 1/2 stick of butter and generous fistful of grated Parmigiano, and stirred gently to coat evenly. I then added a splash of cooking water for creaminess.

As a final touch, I dusted a minimal amount (about a tablespoon) of chocolate caviar, another sinful item I picked up some time ago and cannot seem to do without lately. I normally use it over gelato, fruit salad or tiramisu; but I've had days when it was perfect sprinkled over pizza bianca, or dropped liberally in my morning cappuccino and evening Irish Coffee.

Chocolate is so versatile, that it can very well be used in savory preparations. The soft smoothness of the chocolate elements, and the salty notes of the grated cheese and melted butter offered a very interesting flavor combination. The glass of full-bodied and voluptuous Amarone I drank with it also contributed.

sweet~savory chocolate ravioli for lunch

This post is is one of many submitted worldwide for Wanderfood Wednesday at Wanderlust & Lipstick.

Head over to Beth's to learn more about ethnic (and unconventional) cuisine from around the world.

Torta al cioccolato recipe

Straightforward chocolate cake is the Marvin Gaye of desserts: classy, smooth, sensual. This particular treat conceived after many delicious variations and tastings, features rich crusty chocolate with a moist heart, and a touch of bittersweet. Just like romance.

Image © Buttalapasta

100 g (1/2 cup) cake flour
100 g (1/2 cup) all-purpose flour
50 g (1/4 cup) pure cocoa powder (don't use Dutch processed cocoa in this case)
2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
50 g (1/4 cup) 70% dark chocolate, broken into pieces
200 g (1 cup) unsalted butter, softened
4 regular eggs (or 3 large), separated
300 ml (1 1/4 cups) drinking water
300 g (1 1/2 cup) packed dark brown sugar
100 g (1/2 cup) sour cream
5 ml (1 teaspoon) pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 180°C (356°F).
Butter and flour a 12-inch springform pan (best if with 2-inch high sides).

In a bowl, sift together the 2 flours, baking powder and salt. Set aside.
Break up the chocolate into 1/2-inch pieces and combine with the cacao powder and espresso powder.

Bring the water to a boil and measure out 1 1/4 cup. Pour over the chocolate and whisk gently until the chocolate has completely dissolved. Using water heightens the chocolate flavor of the mixture as opposed to milk. (Try tasting chocolate melted in warm milk and compare it to the taste of chocolate melted in water. The milk-based hot chocolate will feel thicker and richer, but the water-based hot chocolate will have a surprisingly strong chocolate flavor. Hence the Laura Esquivel novel/film title "Like Water for Chocolate.").

Once the flour has been sifted and the chocolate melted into boiling water, you must cream the unsalted butter with a flat beater. Add the sugar and mix until butter and sugar are evenly mixed.

One at a time, add the egg yolks and beat on medium-high until fully incorporated, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a spatula. Mix in sour cream and vanilla extract.

On low speed, mix in one third of the flour mixture followed by half of the chocolate liquid. Repeat with another third of the flour and the rest of the chocolate. Finally, mix in the last third of the flour. Stop the mixer once the batter has just combined, resisting the temptation to lick the batter.

In another large bowl, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Initially pour only 1/4 of the whites into the batter, then fold in the remaining whites until just incorporated. After that, the trick is to gently stir the egg whites, folding them over with a spatula in the same direction, and with a sweet smile on your face.

Pour the combined batter into the prepared pan. Bake until the top is risen and crusty, 25-30 minutes according to oven, or until a toothpick or a dry spaghetti strand thrust into the center of the cake and withdrawn comes out clean, or covered in dry crumbs. The center should be decadently soft and moist.

Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let it cool for 10-15 minutes. The top will fall a bit, but go ahead and remove the pan sides. To do this, loosen the cake’s edges by running a knife along the circumference of the round to release the cake from the pan, unbuckle the spring and sensually slide the torta onto a serving plate. Dust the warm cake with confectioners’ sugar, cut into messy slices, top with optional whipped cream and prepare to find religion.

Image © Celiachiamo

I won't wish you happy "lucrative-greeting-card-business" day because I don't believe in it. You may remember how last year I put forward my arguable reasons for this aversion. Every day is Valentine's Day in my home, not just today.

♥

Italian chocolate - Naples

Some time ago I started seriously broaching my addiction problem on this site. I had made it a point to go to weekly sessions and speak openly about the special places in Italy where said addiction can be fueled. I spilled the beans (no pun intended) on Torino here. Then I told of the temptations in Modica here. I let time and work get in the way of rehab, but today I return to my Chocolate Dependency podium and I will tell you a little about Napoli, the most beautiful city in the world.


Specifically, I will indiscreetly reveal secret information about a sinful place called Gay-Odin. I have a long-standing relationship with the products sold within. I have spent more than I could afford in that joint. I have made up excuses for arriving late at work, so I could sample some of their fares early in the morning, as soon as the pusher opened shop. I lived in Napoli for 2 and a half years and during that time, Gay-Odin had become my obsession.

If you've visited Napoli and along with authentic pizza and seafood fare, you have not yet tasted this exquisite chocolate brand, please repair.

The Art Nuveau wood-paneled windows of Gay-Odin chocolatier boutique only allow you to glimpse at the wonders stored inside. Gay-Odin is Neapolitan history in a box of chocolates. If you could travel back in time and found yourself strolling down Napoli's elegant Via Chiaja during the late 1800s, the aroma in the air would be the first thing to strike you as unusual. The unexpected fragrance of chocolate spreading to alleys, fashion boutiques, cafes and tailor shops would guide you to Isidoro's little workshop tucked away in a small courtyard. 

Chocolatier Isidoro Odin had recently transferred his greatest passion from native Alba (Italy's chocolate epicenter, Piedmont) to Napoli taking with him his craft, his desire to create unfamiliar flavor combinations, experiment with sweetness, and mixing new ingredients.

It is thanks to the penetrating smell of his chocolate creations that Gay-Odin's history begins, it was in fact the inviting aroma that attracted a growing clientele to his tiny shop. Mostly the socialite Neapolitan glitterati, customers adopting the fashionable habit of buying chocolates at midday, when the smell of production was at its peak. Isidoro's fame grew to the point where in 1922 he was able to open his own manufacturing plant in the heart of the city: five storeys of pleasure, in the rich high class section of town. That same plant is in full function to this day, you can visit the Gay-Odin website for a virtual back in time visit of the master chocolatier's heritage. Further impulse to the growth of business was the marriage to Onorina Gay: the name Gay-Odin is born, shops multiply in town, but the couple continues to work on the artisanal path of chocolate-making. That resist to this day.

Trademark products include "naked" unwrapped pralines of all kinds sold by weight, Foresta, a Gay-Odin creation that is a flaky bar of rich chocolate that resembles rough and twisty tree bark (very similar to the British Cadbury Flake bar). The assortment of other chocolate shapes and variations include Tarallini, donut-shaped and filled with Strega liquer, Noci, walnut shaped and enclosed in a wafer-like casing and Ostriche, oyster-shaped and filled with a cream mousse. When I travel to Napoli, I always stock up on Gay-Odin's dark chocolate shot glasses for drinking liqueur and zesty limoncello, the signature pralines, truffles, tablets and block confections, an endless array of lustful bite size morsels of bliss in my otherwise empty suitcase.

Some of the molds used in the chocolate factory...

During holiday season, Neapolitan families stock up on boxes of Gay-Odin goodness to distribute to friends and relatives and in the summer, gelato flavors based on their chocolate concoctions take center stage. Though foresta bark is quite delectable, I like the Vesuvio the best. Imagine a solid block of chocolate in the shape of the Mt. Vesuvius volcano, sometimes taking on mammoth proportions...

Aerial view of the real thing

In defense of my drug problem, as a last attempt, I can suggest a few positive aspects of chocolate. It is not all bad skin and extra kilos around the midriff. Romantic lore in fact commonly identifies chocolate as an aphrodisiac. The famed sexual inspiring properties of chocolate are most often associated with the simple sensual pleasure of its consumption. It’s a fact that chocolate’s sweet and fatty nature stimulates the hypothalamus, inducing pleasureable sensations as well as affecting natural levels of cheer and serotonin. Chocolate is in effect a legal psychoactive drug, your honor.



The city of Naples welcomed me with open arms during my time there. I overdosed on sunshine, awesome seafood, singing fishermen sailing the bay below my terrace, glimmering blue waters, trascendental pizza, gorgeous sunsets, passionate love and Gay-Odin. Despite what it did to my weight, I will forever be grateful to la mia bella Napoli...

Sempre nel mio cuore.

Italian chocolate - Modica

A week ago I posted the first "episode" of a chocolate saga. In sharing with you my total and unwavering addiction to cioccolata, my desire is to share a little about Italy's local chocolate distinctions. Today's cacao capital is Modica, a small town in the Sicilian province of Ragusa.

We are talking about one of the world's best chocolate types. The legendary cioccolato di Modica.

It is an extraordinary and unique product manufactured in the small jewel town of Modica. At the very lowest tip of the island of Sicilia, baroque Modica sits perched on a hilltop overlooking a deep gorge and boundless rural panoramas. Trivia digression: Modica was also the birth place of writer Salvatore Quasimodo, recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1959.

Modica chocolate is not smooth and refined. It is on the contrary grainy, and there is no milk chocolate version, just dark and darker. Cioccolato di Modica is a divine powdery, firm and crumbly block that can only be cut by a sharp knife, scattering crumbs of chocolate like those of a crusty loaf of bread. The peculiar dry texture of this treat surprisingly melts in your mouth almost instantly.

The Aztec recipe, as handed down from Meso-American Montezuma himself to the despotic Spanish conquistadores who later controlled Sicilia between the 13th and 15th centuries, requires the crude chocolate to be initially heated to around 40-50°C. When the minimal amount of cocoa butter melts, the basic ingredient can be worked together with cinnamon (or vanilla) and sugar until it is ready to be placed in the rectangular aluminum molds that give the stocky little bars of chocolate their unique shape. Before the chocolate solidifies, these molds are lined up on a large wooden tray that is beaten relentlessly against the thick pale gray marble kitchen table top.

This extraordinary ritual makes a tremendous racket, but actually serves to expel air bubbles and leave what will become the top side of the chocolate bars satiny and smooth. I'm now going to say something which will change your life:

The near absence of cocoa butter and air, makes Modica chocolate highly digestible and less fat.

After a few seconds of eating, the whiplash of undertaste intoxicatingly sets in, especially in the spiced varieties.

Excellent eaten with tea or a tall glass of milk. After a hefty dinner, a chunk of cioccolato di Modica and a shot of red wine will send you rocketing into oblivion.

Photo©imperatoreblog.it

Since 1880 the high temple of archetypal chocolate in Modica has been the Antica Dolceria Bonajuto. An ceaseless attraction for myriad devotees, local and otherwise, this antique repository of toothsome treasures can be found on Corso Umberto I, the main drag snaking through the hillside on which the town clings like crafted coral.

Flavors range from al naturale, vanilla, cinnamon and spicy peperoncino. More modern varieties include nutmeg, coffee, ginger, sea salt and bergamot essence. Wrapped in the Modican fin de siecle trademark paper, this IGP chocolate is a rare tasting experience that will change your fancy for chocolate forever.

Italian chocolate - Torino

Susan of MY2K is one of the first blog friends and followers to visit this site. She's a loyal reader and aficionado in my little kitchen, and she posts incredibly interesting stories about Mayan glyphs and the mysterious civilization's multi-faceted culture. She and I share the fascination for all things central American, and among these, chocolate. One very interesting post of hers dealt with cacao beans used as currency. Here is an excerpt from that piece:

"For the ancient Maya, cacao beans were money. A rabbit was worth ten beans, as an example. They really did have money growing on trees. The fruit that surrounds the bitter seeds is sweet and was eaten by both monkeys and early man. Later, early civilizations discovered the seeds to be a wonderful, bitter, enticing food when roasted. The name kakawa is the original name from the Olmecs in 1000 BC. By the time of the Maya, cacao beans were even counterfeited. It was possible to remove the delicious center and substitute dirt or less valuable pieces of food before passing it off as cash."

You can read the full post HERE.

The word "chocolate" in fact comes from the Aztecs of Mexico, and is derived from the term xocolatl which is a combination of words meaning 'bitter waters.' Indeed, the unsweetened hot, frothy beverage with stimulant properties the Aztecs made of pounded cacao beans and spices was probably extremely bitter. Chocolate was reserved for warriors, nobility and priests. The Aztecs esteemed its reputed ability to confer wisdom and vitality. Taken fermented as a drink, chocolate was also used in religious ceremonies. Between a bloody game of pelota and a savage human scarifice, a nice cup of steaming xocolatl was the best way to replete. Bitterness notwithstanding, the Aztec king Montezuma so believed that chocolate was an aphrodisiac that he purportedly drank 50 golden goblets of it each day (I can see where the legendary namesake revenge comes from).

To quote Susan, from one of our droolsome chocolate-induced conversations, "Aztecs, Olmecs, Maya, Spanish, English - they fought with each other but they kept the name for chocolate intact!" And we thank them on behalf of humanity.

How bland can a day be without a triangle of honey flavored Swiss Toblerone? What's the use of getting out of bed if there are no chocolate shavings in your cappuccino? If you know me a little by now, you'll comprehend how I cannot resist the temptation of Nutella. Can you recall the excitement upon walking in your first chocolatier? I purposely got lost during a guided tour of one of Torino's most famous chocolate factories just to manage a second go at the sample table.

It's my addiction. I'm not a dessert person, but chocolate is my weakness. Blissful is the midnight snack that begins with a chunk of glossy brown heaven wedged between my teeth and a salty crust of bread to go with it.

Italy competes with France and Switzerland for the best European chocolate. In the region of Piemonte alone, there are more master chocolatiers than in Belgium and France combined. In Tuscany, there is such a concentration of fine chocolate makers, that journalists have dubbed the area between Florence and Pisa the Chocolate Valley.

In the course of the weeks to follow I will set an appointment with you. Once a week, I will illustrate examples of the many Italian chocolate excellencies that dot our Peninsula. Let me begin this choco-monograph by telling you of one very chocolaty city in particular.

TORINO, the Gianduja capital of the world
Can you even begin to imagine a city where a special type of milk chocolate first prepared in 1852 by Pierre Paul Caffarel has inspired a famous praline, a Commedia dell'Arte character mask and self-appointed nickname? This decadent preparation of chocolate containing about 50% hazelnut and almond paste, is the symbol of the most epicurean Italian city of them all. The Napoleonic gem, Torino.


Caffrel's invention of Gianduja chocolate was out of necessity. Due to the long Napoleonic Wars, the transport of spices, coffee and cacao beans across the Atlantic was severely curtailed, and Europe began to experience unacceptable chocolate shortages. To extend their meager supplies of cocoa, Caffarel began blending ground hazelnuts into their cacao. The result was a creamy, flavorful delight, and it became an instant success.

Gianduja is a Carnival and Commedia dell'Arte marionette character who represents the archetypal Piemontese: sweet, guileful and overly polite. During the 1865 carnival celebrations in Torino, masked Gianduja began handing out a new chocolate truffle, the gianduiotto.

Gianduiotti are now the specialty of Torino, bite-size chocolate mouthfuls whose shape is similar to an upturned canoe. Gianduiotti are individually wrapped in gold-colored tin foil, and melt in your mouth leaving you inevitably addicted for more. Like it is said of cherries, uno tira l'altro, or "one pulls the next [into the mouth]".

Trivia Note: Asti-born writer and broadcaster, Bruno Gambarotta, wrote a comic gastro-thriller entitled "Il codice Gianduiotto" (English: The Gianduiotto Code). The novel is a parody of the Dan Brown bestseller and centers on the mysteries of the secret formula for the perfect Gianduiotto.

Salame di Cioccolato, chocolate and cookie cake

Photo © Alberto Blasetti/Cibando

For this week’s What’s Cooking Wednesday, I've decided to go with something soul stirring. This typical Roman winter dessert uses two of my favorite sweet ingredients, chocolate and cookies. I made it as a reward after a long and intense day at work today. Nothing like winding down with some serious cioccolato action, a glass of red wine and some vintage R&B. The decadent delight I want to share with you today looks quite like a salami, and it is served sliced, which explains its name.

100 g (1/2 cup) milk chocolate, broken into pieces
100 g (1/2 cup) black chocolate (not more bitter than 70% pure cocoa), broken into bits
100 g (1/2 cup) butter, softened
50 g (1/4 cup) brown sugar
1 egg + 2 yolks
200 g (1 cup) Petit Beurre or Osvego-type biscuits (can be substituted with graham crackers or shortbread), coarsely crumbled

Melt the butter and the chocolates over a very mild flame, stirring to make sure they don’t stick or reach a boiling point. 

Beat the eggs with the sugar and melted chocolates, and stir in the broken biscuits to obtain a thick, ‘gluey’ dough (for want of a better term).

Once the mix is cool, place it in a loaf tin or plum cake mold lined with foil and pop it in the freezer to harden.

Serve at room temperature, sliced. To be mandatorily eaten with your hands, in order for the chocolate to melt sensually both in mouth and at your fingertips, provoking a wide multitude of pleasurable sensations.

A sweet little pastry shop downtown

Usually looking in the window of an Italian pasticceria or cake shop is to feel one's fillings twinge and one's heart lift; but not here. The inconspicuous entry to the Pasticceria Cinque Lune is for connoisseurs only. A small door, covered by a minimalist brown awning beckons only the experts to enter and relish their sweet destiny within.

The Italian Sunday tradition is all about keeping it lazy, lax and leisurely. This means waking up not too early, calmly reading the entire paper cover to cover, and eating breakfast in bed. For some, going to morning Mass, for others taking a stroll in the Centro Storico. One activity common to all however is making a stop at the local pastry shop and picking up the mandatory “paste” for dessert.
Il pranzo domenicale, the family’s Sunday lunch is a big deal here. Much more so than dinner, which usually is a piping hot cup of broth, a glass of bold red wine and not much else. Lunch on Sunday means getting the family around the table and making it a habitual and cheerful gathering: lots of great food, laughter and conversation, kids vaulting about high on excessive doses of sugars, grown-ups catching up on mutual work week endeavors, gossip, etc. The meal usually is structured in the typical 5-element menu: antipasto, a pasta or risotto dish, a protein main course of meat, poultry or fish, a vegetable side dish (or more than one, if the cook is in the mood), and dessert.
And this is where the requisite 11am stop at the pasticceria comes into play. Today the narrow retail section of the Pasticceria delle Cinque Lune was jam-packed to full capacity. Blame it on the midday sun that gave us Romans a breather from a solid week of rain, or perhaps the aroma of the freshly baked typical Carnevale specialties frappe, castagnole and zeppole emanating from the tiny pastry workshop and wafting into the streets. We had to fight our way to the head of the confused line to get our kilo of assorted goodies.
Pastries are sold by weight, dusted with extra confectioner’s sugar and wrapped in the trademark red paper and gold twine. E scoffed 2 deep-fried zeppole on the go while we chatted with la Signora Anzuini at the cash register, noticing how he had grown since Christmas, when she last saw him.


Pasticceria Cinque Lune infact also makes excellent 100% certified organic panettone, pandoro, torrone and other traditional Roman festive sweets, like pangiallo Romano, ricciarelli, pampepato and panforte. At Easter, the pasticceria confects decorated chocolate eggs of all sizes and cocoa content, each holding a little gift-wrapped surprise within its polished haves. This should come as no surprise, the “Five Moons” after all boasts its fourth generation of pasticceri artisans since its founder Salvatore Anzuini opened shop in 1902, so besides interesting German pastries like Krantz, Stollen or a fantastic semi-sweet braided breakfast bread, Claudio Anzuini and his team bake mouthwatering custom-made birthday cakes, monumental Mont Blancs, tarts of all types – the best being of course crostata di visciole – Sacher torte and the establishment’s signature "antichi romani," an ancient Roman recipe for crumpled puff pastry stuffed with ricotta cheese, honey and poppy seeds. Not to mention the pasticceria mignon: bite-sized versions of the above mentioned cakes, classic pastries, sfoglaitelle, fruit tartlets and more.



My mother’s abundant Sunday fares pacified our appetite and prized our gluttonous nature. The Carnevale pastries from Cinque Lune escalated our blood-sugar levels through the roof. At least until next Sunday.

Pasticceria Cinque Lune
Corso Rinascimento, 89
00186 Roma
Tel. +39 06 68801005

Confessions of a rampant Nutella junkie

Of all forms of temptation to sin, I think chocolate is what turns me on the most without foreplay. Honey colored slabs of glossy, firm milk chocolate; tiny white chocolate pralines; snapping bars of dark, bitter chocolate; choco-coated coffee beans. I can’t resist. As a rampant chocoaddict, I'm forced to indulge, greater forces moving me.
Nutella, a delicious creamy spread staple that has marked generations of Italian children with premature lust, unwanted calories and acne, is today’s drug of choice. On this rainy Roman day, we Nutellaholics celebrate its pure spreadable joy.

Many chocolatiers produce their own nutella-like products, but nothing beats the original contained in the trademark stout glass jar with white screw cap or the mismatched tumblers with the snap top boasting the same 70’s red and black label. The unchanged illustration below the logo is a steadfast Italian icon. Mid afternoon merenda snack meant thick slices of crusty bread slathered with Nutella and a guaranteed energy boost capable of orbiting us to Pluto.

Today, February 5th, 2009 – World Nutella Day – I officiate as Nutella High Priestess (E is way too small for such mundane and Dionysian pleasures). I solemnly jab a hole in the gilded seal, cerimoniously tearing it open. The ciabatta is warming in the oven, and the ecstasy of thrusting just-washed fingers in the virgin tranquil sea of its surface is the prelude to a lustful moment of private Nutella plenty.

Here is a recipe I want to share as a sign of grateful thanks for Michelle of Bleeding Espresso and Sara of Ms Adventures in Italy, for proclaiming and instituting World Nutella Day.
Grazie, mie care sorelle!

Quantities for 4 Nutella Virgins (or 1 aficionado):
250gr (1 1/4 cups) whipping cream
2 tsp confectioner’s sugar, sifted
3 tbsp Nutella, or more to taste

If you are among those who store half opened jars of Nutella in the refrigerator, please refrain from reading any further. This means that a) you actually manage to have any left over, and b) you show no respect for Nutella’s signature creamy nature. In both cases you win my distrust.

Whip the cream with the confectioner’s sugar until quite firm. Add the Nutella, blending it softly with a wooden spoon in round, loving motions. NOW refrigerate the combined elements of your pseudo-mousse for 15 minutes, if you can resist.
Can be left plain or garnished with sifted bitter Dutch cocoa, a cinnamon stick and a few mint leaves before applying to face.