I once cooked truffles over a kettle – I still have the scar. 

Byron and Fitzgerald Truffles

It was the last thing I cooked in Oxford, for a party my tutor was throwing to bid us fine young academics farewell. Ironically she themed it ‘sing for your supper.’ The dark undertones of which didn’t sink in until I was jobless and fleeing north in search of affordable rent. We English students, eager proprietors of words, quoted poetry and wrote verse (no one sang) – I even gave the chocolate truffles that were my talent pretentious literary names. These were the tools of the trade we had been taught in dusty libraries, pouring over books in search of some hidden meaning, which never surfaced. I can tell you of Milton’s ranting delusional essays, of the kinky side of the middle ages. Can I hold down a job? No.

They call oxford a bubble, it is, and the bubble finally burst after that day. We had spent three years slaving over essays, cut off from the world, reveling in an upper class party that seemed like it would never end. Well, for the rich ones it won’t, their lives will be more champagne evenings, white tie balls and supper (that’s what they call dinner) parties. Only maybe relocated from the Oxford Union to the House of Lords. As for me, I cooked my chocolate truffles and left all that behind. I can’t say I wont miss the handy ledge in the Oxford Union toilets, but I definitely wont miss effeminate boys and stripy scarves.

Don’t be put off by me incurring an injury while cooking these truffles – just maybe don’t cook them last minute at 5am after a night out, like I did, and kick over the kettle and get a steam burn. You don’t even have to use a kettle, unless, like me, you enjoy the simple irony of making sophisticated food using only the most basic of utensils.

Fitzgerald Truffles

“First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you”

My Fitzgerald Truffle

  

Like his literary contemporaries F. Scott Fitzgerald liked a drink, maybe even as much as Faulkner. These truffles pay homage to him destroying his liver for the sake of literature. I've tried to capture the heady exoticism of those speak-easy days with ample amounts of Pernod, combined with zesty oranges and limes.

225g dark Chocolate, broken into chocolate small pieces

175ml double or whipping cream

1 ½ shots of Pernod

1 shot of orange juice
the zest of one lime and two oranges

Granulated sugar

1.    Make a bain-marie using a glass bowl placed over a kettle with its top lifted up so that the steam hits the bottom of the bowl,

2.    Place the chopped chocolate and the cream in the bowl, and gently heat until the chocolate completely melts into a ganache.

The 'Ganache' should look something like this

3.    Add the Pernod and orange juice to the ganache and then cool in the fridge until set (about 1 ½ hours)

4.    In the meantime mix the granulated sugar with the orange and lime zest to allow time for it to infuse.

5.    When the mixture has set, use a teaspoon to measure out bite-sized pieces. Then roll in the palms of your hands to make a small balls.

6.    Immediately roll the truffles in the granulated sugar mixture and voila! You’re done.

Pernod, Orange and Lime Truffles

Byron Truffles 

"A woman should never be seen eating or drinking, unless it be lobster salad and Champagne, the only true feminine and becoming viands."

My Byron Truffle

Although the comment above might have the feminist in me reeling, when it comes from one of history's most notorious womanizers I have to give fair dues. So in accordance with Byron's wishes here is a truffle oozing with feminine vitality. Aromatic rose water adds a floral quality, with decadent Champagne (or Cava let's be honest) and earthy sesame seeds, to make an edible interpretation of femininity.

225g White Chocolate, broken into chocolate small pieces
100ml double or whipping cream

1 shot of Champagne (or other sparkling wine)

1 teaspoon of rose water

Sesame seeds

1.    Make a bain-marie using a glass bowl placed over a kettle with its top lifted up so that the steam hits the bottom of the bowl,

2.    Place the chopped chocolate and the cream in the bowl, and gently heat until the chocolate completely melts into a ganache.

3.    Add the Champagne and rose water to the ganache and then cool in the fridge until set (about 1 ½ hours)

4.    If you want the truffles to be a rose colour then add a couple of drops of beetroot juice to the mix.

5.    In the meantime spread the sesame seeds out in a shallow dish.

6.    When the mixture has set, use a teaspoon to measure out bite-sized pieces. Then roll in the palms of your hands to make a small balls.

7.    Immediately roll the truffles in the sesame seeds.

8.    Eat! Or look at admiringly for a while…

Rose, Champagne and Sesame Seed Truffles

One day, maybe, I’ll be dining on such decadent morsels again.

Literary Truffles a la Emily Ludolf