Panko Chocolate Truffles with Sea Salt

It’s Hanukkah, but this is not fried food. Nor is this a Hanukkah post, so let’s just move on.

Truffles should not be made while your house is at a cool 52 degrees. No, truffles should be made in a temperature-controlled room set to some yet-to-be-determined number. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.

You see, my house is really cold. Like, so cold that in the winter my roommates and I hide in our rooms, all of which are adorned with space heaters. If we’re really bored, we may bundle up and watch Gossip Girl for an hour in the living room. Then we scamper back to bed.

This was not a problem when I lived with my parents. I’ve had to learn to adjust.

These truffles forced me to adjust.

Honestly, I should have just left the ganache on the counter overnight. When I took it out of the fridge, it was fine. When I left it on the counter for 20 minutes, it was not. I couldn’t roll it, so I had to use a knife to cut it into squares. Those squares were then placed in a glass dish.

That glass dish went on a heating pad. Yeah, I used to a heating pad to warm my ganache.

I then tried to roll the ganache, but it resisted. I persisted. It resisted even more. You have no idea how thankful I was to have bought plastic gloves for this task. My gloves were covered in wasted chocolate.

Apparently, body heat melts chocolate – but just the topmost layer. Sigh.


I eventually got my truffles rolled, which allowed me to proceed to the final task -- dipping. My melted chocolate didn't want to stay melted. No, it wanted to become a fudgy mess. It was tasty, sure, but there are only so many times you can put the same chocolate in the microwave.

The house was so lucky I didn’t burn that chocolate. So lucky. I don’t know what I would have done, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. I would have had to hire someone to clean it up.

Needless to say, my panko chocolate truffles were a big fat pain in the ass. They’re delicious, but damn. If you plan to make them – which you should – make sure your house is heated to above 52F.

Cranberry Curd Bars with a Chocolate Pecan Crust

These are the product of a bet. No, not the kind of bet that brought you Spam Cupcakes. That was pure folly, and only netted me a silly post from Ben. This bet was pure ego. And a little bit of boredom, too.

I jokingly challenged a co-worker to a posting duel.* She agreed, and we settled on a bounty of baked goods.  I lost by a measly 1 minute and 45 seconds. I rose my fist in anger and grumbled. I conceded my loss.

And then I went back to my on-site writing lair and thought. And complained to my office mate. But mostly I thought.**

Those thoughts almost immediately turned to my stash of frozen cranberries.  I had bought a Costco-sized bag and couldn't bear a repeat of the Great Broccoli Soup Disaster of 2010. But after making Cranberry Orange Muffins, I had only eaten a handful, and only in one of two ways:

1. Diced up and added to chocolate chip pancakes; or
2. Microwaved and mashed into a rustic compote that is then smothered between two frozen waffles along with a few chocolate chips.

I like frozen waffles. Leave me alone.

Or better yet, focus on the trend. Chocolate and cranberries are a delicious combination.

That co-worker would agree, but she's a little shifty,*** so you should probably try for yourself.

Yeah, I'm clearly still grumbling about the bet.

*For the uninitiated, I swapped my unemployment card for an underemployment card in January. I write content for a number of legal blogs and they oddly require me to be in the office.
**Mostly I grumbled.
**Okay fine, I'm lying. She's pretty cool and her shiftiness level is about that of the average attorney.