Chocolate Mousse, Bread, Wine, Chocolate, and Cooking Love

The absolute first thing I did when I moved into the new place was set up the kitchen. This was partially because about 80% of the boxes were filled with kitchen things and thus needed to be unpacked so I could actually get to the other boxes and partially because the kitchen is the center of my home. 

 Pre-demolition

Pre-demolition

No, not literally. It's actually all the way at the back of the house, meaning Daily gets a lot of miles on those paws playing fetch while I'm cooking. But figuratively, yes, dead center, bulls-eye. It's where I cook, think, make grocery lists, talk on the phone, wonder if I've killed my plants, do laundry, creep out the back window to watch the alley like I'm a member of the neighborhood watch -- you get it. If I'm home, I'm probably in the kitchen. 

So after my kitchen was set up, I made the recipe at the center of my love of cooking: my grandmother's recipe for chocolate mousse. This indulgent dessert takes time, a little labor, and lots of whisking, and, as proven time after time, it's totally worth it. Chocolate is my comfort food, and chocolate mousse is the comfort food of all comfort foods (also the cholesterol of all foods forever, but hey, I'll worry about that the next time I bring myself to make a doctor's appointment). 

It seemed appropriate to start off a new house's worth of cooking with one of the first recipes I remember treasuring, and it seemed appropriate that I should pair it with a book about comforting and indulging foods we're drawn to and why we should worry about them: Bread, Wine, Chocolate: The Slow Loss of Foods We Love

So here you go, internet. This is my grandma's recipe, and it will knock your socks off. (The book might too, by the way.)

 The mousse goddess herself

The mousse goddess herself