Fashionistas

There are great, sweeping fashions that move through food communities. Not unlike, really, any group or trade or industry, I suppose. It's fun to watch them drift across the local restaurant landscape. Once you discover one of these trends, you find it everywhere. Seared scallops, for example, paired with some nugget of slow-cooked pork – belly, shoulder, cheek – appeared on half the menus in Sydney a couple of years ago. Then there was a phase that saw the majority of the local establishments offering braised short ribs. They're scarce now; alas, the fad has passed. Not so long ago, every bistro I can think of offered a 'deconstructed stew' of some form or another.

These things tend to spread from the top down. The best restaurants introduce an ingredient, a cooking method, a new combination, all which eventually get picked up by other establishments. 'Confit Ocean Trout' the signature dish at Tetsuya's? Watch the 'Oil Poached Salmon' and 'Slow-Cooked Arctic Char' pop up at the second-tier establishments. Steaks prepared sous vide at the now-defunct, upper-class bistro, Restaurant Salt? Look for it at your local. I'm not even sure how it happened, but wagyu beef moved from the domain of the elite to pub fodder at near light speed. It's not good. The wagyu bacon cheese burger I ordered at the corner bar was equal parts dry and forgettable.

I don't have much of an opinion on these crazes one way or another. I can tell you that both I and every chef I know hates to get caught up in them, or, rather, to be caught joining up.

Obviously, not every chef on the planet is gonging to be an innovator. Most, of us, in fact, will just plod along, piecing together menus from vague memories of dinners long consumed, books read, methods learned, and blind luck. All chefs steal ideas. Some of us do so openly and deliberately, as when we reproduce a classical French dish. Other chefs borrow and modify, take old ideas and reinterpret them, press them, blend them, whip them, bake them, and present them as something new. A select few actually invent; you know them by name: Adrià, Blumenthal, Keller. The rest of us are resigned to accept the trickle-down of new techniques and flavor combinations and innovate within certain bounds.



It is for this reason that fashions so easily pass through the food industry; as chefs we actively look around at our peers and, every now and again, many of us recognize a good idea and seize it at the same time. We'll avoid it if we can. No one wants to copy, wholesale, a dish from another restaurant's menu. More importantly we'd rather not be seen as stepping into line, as it were. Namely, no chef wants to be thought of as one to jump aboard the latest trend, as this implies a special level of ineptitude.

Yet we can't help but be intrigued by a fad that is, clearly, disgustingly delicious.

The particular fashion in Sydney which has been too good to pass on for the past five or more years has been Chocolate Fondants. These little half-baked cakes are rich and fluffy on the outside and molten in the middle. The best examples of the species bulge around the middle, much like a perfect panna cotta, upon un-moulding. Typically served with ice cream, sometimes with chocolate sauce, the specimen, when pierced, gushes forth a veritable wave of steaming, liquid, chocolate filling.

Recipes vary greatly, but typically include some of the following: dark chocolate, eggs, butter, sugar, flour, salt, caramel, baking powder, cream, and even sourdough starter. I've had chocolate fondants that include nearly all the above, and ones made from only three. They are tricky to cook; one moment too little in the oven and they collapse into a gooey mess, one too many and they don't goo at all. The cooking time depends on oven temperature and ingredient ratios and is quite difficult to get right.



I know all of this because I have not only served chocolate fondants in several Sydney restaurants, but have eaten them in several others. The things are on offer everywhere. I can, however, officially declare the craze over. One of the major delivery pizza chains has recently begun advertising a take-home version of the chocolate fondant. I think they call it a 'chocolate geyser' or 'volcano' or something. The point is this: once fast food gets a hold of one of these fads, it's dead.

Well, only mostly dead in this case, because I'm re-visiting the chocolate fondant at least one more time, and in a way I've never seen done before: With white chocolate. Now listen, I'm basically a purist, and I only eat chocolate that is about 80% cocoa or more, so don't start with the 'It's not even chocolate' and other such goings-on. Someone I happen to love very much has something of a thing for white chocolate, so I thought I'd give this a shot. Valentines Day and all.

White Chocolate Fondant with Raspberry Ice Cream

This recipe makes about 4 fondants. Might I suggest you test it a few times before you serve it; the size of your mould, heat of your oven, type of chocolate, and a host of other variables will affect the baking time.

Also, “good white chocolate” means not the crap you can buy from the convenient mart. Get some from a cooking supply shop or website. It will probably include the words “Belgian ,” “couverture,” and/or “expensive.”

Fondant Mix

120g good white chocolate buttons
75g unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
3 egg whites
30g sugar
30g flour

Over a pot of simmering water, in a metal bowl, melt the butter and white chocolate together. Stir and remove from heat. Cool slightly. Mix the whites and sugar until just frothy, and stir into the chocolate mixture. Sift the flour into this mixture and fold until just combined. Use immediately or refrigerate and use later. This keeps for ages.

White Chocolate Sauce

150g good white chocolate buttons
100ml cream

Heat the cream until it nearly, but does not boil. Pour over chocolate buttons in a small bowl and stir until combined. This will keep in the fridge for some time.

Raspberry Ice Cream

I might have mentioned this before, but making ice cream requires a bit of organization. You must prepare a few items before you start to ensure that things go well. Most important is that you prepare a fine sieve to strain the cooked anglaise through, and a bowl set into an ice bath to cool that strained anglaise BEFORE you begin cooking anything. The strainer, I feel, is self-explanatory. For the ice bath, fill a large bowl half way with ice, and then pour in enough cold water so the the ice just floats; you are aiming for a mostly ice slurry.

250ml milk
250ml cream
100g sugar
3 egg yolks
225g raspberries (frozen work fine, thaw them first)

Heat the cream and milk until nearly, but not quite boiling. Meanwhile, blend the raspberries in a blender until smooth. Pass through a fine sieve to remove seeds.

Whisk the yolks and the sugar in a large bowl until thick and creamy. This will take some time.

Ladle some of the hot cream mixture into the whisked yolks and mix. This step helps prevent “scrambling” the custard you are going to make. Next, pour all of the yolk mixture back into the pot with the hot cram and stir constantly using a rubber spatula to scrape the bottom of the pot as you go. Cook over low heat until the temperature reaches 81ºC (get a digital kitchen thermometer, they are indispensable).

Quickly strain the mixture through the sieve we talked about above into the prepared ice bath. Stir gently until cooled. Mix in the raspberry puree and churn the lot according the the instructions on your churn.

Putting It All Together

Heat your oven to 220ºC. Line 4 small, deep ceramic ramekins, or, preferably, small tin baking moulds with unsalted butter. Set these in the fridge for 10 minutes to firm up and then dust the insides liberally with powdered sugar. Tap out any excess.

Fill each mould ¾ full of fondant mix (room temperature works best, but out of the fridge will work as well). Bake for approximately 9 minutes, or until it has risen nearly to the top of the container, but the middle of the fondant still shows a slight depression (showing tat the centre is still liquid). Remover from the oven and carefully un-mould onto warm plates.

Serve with warm white chocolate sauce, raspberry ice cream, and a few fresh raspberries.