Homemade Chocolate Dessert Recipe Essentials

Shortly before winter, the Viennese papers were full of agitated news reports about the complete ban imposed by the government on the use of cocoa. Mention was made of the serious damage incurred by the famous Demel pastry shop, with Mr. Demel’s picture alongside. But anyone who looked closely would discern a smile of joy on his lips, inexplicable in light of the circumstances, or perhaps perfectly explicable in light of the similar circumstances of the Sacher pastry shop, Demel’s lifelong nemesis.

I am sitting in Herman Blum’s café, where I have wooed each of my nostalgic loves. Without having to ask, I am served a piece of the legendary cheesecake, made only by Herman himself. I cut into it with the fork and let the beloved taste spread through my mouth, from the back of my tongue and to every part of my body. I close my eyes and remember. Although I have never met you I miss only you, my perfect love woven from a thousand memories of past loves.

  This week at an expensive restaurant I ate intricately composed dishes layered like poetry. Afterward, the meal and its philosophy were explained, and everyone sat wide-eyed in rapturous appreciation. I, too, applauded and set my face in an expression of intelligent fervor. Later, at home, I put on my pajamas, turned on the television, and watched a film about a soldier who parts from his beloved when she leaves forever for a faraway land. After that I poured myself a glass of hot milk and cut a slice of very plain cake baked without sophistication, which was so simply delicious it needed no philosophical explanation.

We’re sitting at the bar, it’s dark and everyone is crammed together. Last drink, and I inhale you deep inside me and, like every evening, plunder your scent without permission according to a pre-planned imperative, and sell myself a precious dream that cannot be realistically assessed.

An explosion of healthy vitamins. Eighteen hours of work, traffic jams, nonstop information bombarding our brains. Hectic life. But don’t we live the real simplicity? Balancing formulas are easy to get, easy to digest, instant Ganges nirvana.

As on every Friday, I cycle over to Baum’s ice cream parlor. But this time I do not stop, will never stop again. I keep pedaling, riding madly on in order to prove to you over and over and forever the enormity of your mistake, when you hung out with him after you’d told me you were busy and that our turn would be next.

Night. Candles. Lots of warm yellow candles reflecting and shimmering in a shiny sauce poured over sweet desserts. Colorful alcohol served with incandescent straws, like on a tropical island. It is crowded. Everyone is handsome as movie stars in the dim light that flickers over their faces, hiding a magical intimacy behind twinkling eyes. A voluptuous smell whispers secrets that intoxicate the people. Peter Pan flies about among the guests. Adults revert to being children. The grand soiree of sweets releases inside us, as always, the most beautiful feelings.