Why Hello There, and welcome back to Kitchen Catastrophes, one man trapped on a dessert island, in a sea of salt-water taffy. I’m your Culinary Crusoe, Jon O’Guin. Today’s recipe is one that I recently made for the Holidays, and I thought it might be appealing for yours. That’s…really kind of it. I don’t know that it has a complicated history, or any kind of interesting etymology. I just made the thing, it’s nice, and not the hardest thing in the world to make, so I thought you might want to try it. For those who need no further discussion, click this link to get the recipe. For everyone else, let’s wade into confusion.

Don’t Mousse My Hair

Our last discussion of Mousse was somewhat abbreviated by that Egotistical Frenchman Jacque LeCoq talking about HIMSELF rather than the dish. The gall of the Gaul, I swear. To correct his mistakes (as I have so oft had to do), Mousse is…well, it’s pretty simple to explain. Mousse is literally just the French word for “Foam”, and is first recorded in the mid 1700’s to refer to, basically, fancy whipped cream.

Imagine the whole cup is just whipped cream, and you’ve got the idea.

In the 16th century, we see whipped cream start showing up in cookbooks as a popular dessert, often referred to as “snow” or “Snow cream”; the reason for the name being that you would flavor and whip cream, and then ladle the mixture over another food, in order to create the illusion of “snow” having fallen on the item.

Many recipes called for cream, sugar, various flavorings like spices or rosewater, and some also called for Egg Whites, mixing in Meringue traditions. Anyway, within a couple decades of these desserts being popular, a new variety arose, where you’d make a pyramid of whipped cream, and drizzle/top it with things like fruit, chocolate, liqueur, or coffee. You might even put the flavorings IN the cream as you whipped it. This arrangement was called a variety of things, from “Chantilly Cheese/Cream”, to “whipped cream” (crème fouettée), but the most common name was some variety of “foamed cream” or just “foam”.

And it used to SUCK to make: Modern cream is processed in a much more efficient manner that keeps a lot more fat, so you can hand-whisk whipped cream in a matter of maybe 10 minutes. The original recipes took an HOUR, and were more like “skimming the foam off the top of the cream”. I kind of wish that it was an Italian invention, because then I could make an easy joke about “skimming off the top”, but the French aren’t stereotypically embezzlers.

More likely to be bakers than bankers, as it were.

In fact, if anything, the most interesting part of this whole affair’s history I brushed over a paragraph ago: calling the dish “Chantilly Cream/Cheese”, since that at least has a historical reference point: Chantilly is a small town in France that, in the mid 18th Century, started making lace (As famously cited in the Big Bopper Song) and was known as a bougie part of France: it was the home of the King’s cousins, and only about a day or two’s ride away from the center of Paris. Basically, it was the 17th Century French version of “Martha’s Vineyard”/”The Hamptons” today: a place rich and powerful people went when they didn’t want to be in DC/New York anymore. Because of this, Chantilly got a rep for having refined food, and in the mid 1700’s, a duke (or maybe a baron) praised a particular dish of crème fouettée he had at a folly in Chantilly. (Follies were this old thing where rich people would build like, Greek temples, tiny Castles, or Small churches on their property to hold garden parties at because they had enough fucking money they didn’t have to explain why they wanted a 50-foot wide and 30 foot tall castle.)

Combine this with the fact that Chantilly lace was notably smooth, fine and well-netted, and it’s kind of obvious why you’d start calling Whipped Cream “Chantilly Cream”, since you’re making smooth, fine bubbles in the cream.

Yes. What appetizing…cloth this is.

Over time, people started adding more things to the whipped cream, and/or whipping non-cream foods to produce the same foam-like effect, and that’s where the modern idea of a mousse comes from. And today’s dish is ALL ABOUT MOUSSE, despite, arguably, two of the three layers not being a mousse, per se.

Things Get Dark

I’ve just learned I need to cover for an ill companion, so I’m going to start linguistically sprinting through this post in the hopes of getting it done before 10 PM. But first, and attribution: Today’s recipe comes from America’s Test Kitchen, specifically their “Best Chocolate Recipes” booklet. I don’t think I do any notable riffs, since I’m more a drummer than a guitarist, so we’re working with the base kit. Starting with the bottom layer of the mousse cake, we’re going to make a dark chocolate Mousse, and then bake it into a sort of spongy cake. By the way, this recipe is going to need a spring-form pan, so if you don’t have one…might I suggest adding it as a late Christmas gift request? They’re like, $5-20.

So, the first layer is a dark chocolate mousse, which is great, because that’s the kind of mousse I specialize in making! Though this does add some ingredients I don’t use. Like quite a bit of melted butter, as well as…espresso.

A drink now available in powder form.

A common addition to bittersweet chocolate mixtures, my distaste for espresso should be easy enough to parse: I don’t like coffee, why would I like the hard liquor to coffee’s beer? Also, in what I actually felt was a cool riff, this recipe uses brown sugar to whip the egg whites, instead of white sugar, presumably for a more rich and complex flavor. But yes, this is basic mousse-making: melt the chocolate with some butter over a double-boiler, fold in egg yolks and flavorings once slightly cooled, then whip the whites with some sugar, and fold the whole thing together.

Spread in the springform, bake, and then chill. Meanwhile, clean your double-boiler and mixing bowl. This is a TRIPLE chocolate mousse cake, so you’re not done making mousse, boyo. (Or girlo).

Lighten Up

The next layer is the milk chocolate mousse, which is going to be put together in a kind of weird way. You’re going to use the same chocolate you did for the dark chocolate layer, and then you’re going to add a witch’s brew of bloomed cocoa powder, which you make by mixing hot water and cocoa powder. Preferably Dutch Processed, which I DO NOT have time to explain, but maybe we’ll cover it on Thursday.

Understand that this is weird.

Also, you’re going to make this with an actual whipped CREAM, so by mixing the chocolate, milkfat, and cocoa powder, you’re basically making milk chocolate in real-time. Then it’s just Melt and mix, whip and fold, pour over your not-at-all shrunken and worrying bottom layer.

Why can I see the bottom? Is that normal?

And pop into the fridge. This recipe is technically like, 4 hours long, but it’s important to know it has like, three and a half hours of “Now wait for X to cool/set.” Once that layer’s firm, you’ve finished your milk chocolate, so it’s time for chocolate number 3: White Chocolate.

Have a White Christmas

Fuck, I meant to hold onto that pun till next week. Well, same pun two weeks in a row, I guess.

The top layer is a very strange layer, in that, for reasons I do not understand and didn’t research, but I presume has to do with the chemical differences between white chocolate and normal chocolate, you don’t use the double-boiler system to make the ganache-esque base. Instead, you rely on a much more finicky system that I ruined the first time I tried. Sooo…don’t fuck up like I did. First, you bloom some gelatin in hot water.

Another “liquid” available in powdered form.

At the same time, heat some cream to a boil. Then, whisk the bloomed gelatin (which should have absorbed all its water and become a kind of clear jelly-paste) into the hot cream until fully dissolved. Pour over a cup of white chocolate chips, and…do nothing. Let it sit, with the heat permeating and melting the chocolate, for a minute, before stirring the mixture into a homogeneous ganache, and letting cool slightly.

While it’s cooling, whip one last cup of cream, without sugar. Then fold in the white chocolate, pour over the top, and let sit at least 2 hours. I let mine sit over-night, and then went and got hammered the night before Thanksgiving. A decision that left me hungover Thanksgiving Day, so I left my phone at home. Thus, I’m now waiting and hoping that I remembered to take pictures of the finished dish with my mother’s phone, or this post is going to end REALLY anti-climactically. (Well, by “waiting”, I mean “going to work and hoping this thing sorts itself out by the time I get home.”)

Surprise! It worked!

The recipe was a BIT of a pain, in that it was basically minor variations of the same recipe three times, but the results were pretty damn good. Everyone at Thanksgiving enjoyed it, with my grandfather in particular pointing out how well it matched the other dessert options. And for looking so fancy, it’s incredible that it’s really only like, 4 semi-fancy ingredients: espresso powder, heavy cream, gelatin and chocolate. Everything else (eggs, salt, sugar) are pantry staples. So if you’ve got an evening to spare and you want something visually impressive you can whip up the day before and serve to your family, I’d definitely suggest trying this bad boy. And I hope it serves you well.

You can find Kitchen Catastrophe on Patreon, and social media like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. That’s it. We’re nowhere else. Except here. STOP LOOKING FOR ME.

THURSDAY: WE MIGHT TALK ABOUT CHOCOLATE AND COCOA POWDER, I DON’T HAVE TIME TO CHECK IF WE’VE DONE THAT RIGHT NOW.

MONDAY: A FUNKY LITTLE PASTA DISH THAT’S PRETTY QUICK AND EASY, AND FESTIVE TO THE EYE.

And now, here's the

Recipe

Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake

Ingredients

The Dark Chocolate Layer

6 tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces (plus extra for greasing the pan)

7 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

3/4 tsp. instant espresso powder

1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract

4 large eggs, separated

Pinch of salt

1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed

Milk Chocolate Layer

2 tbsp. cocoa powder, preferably Dutch-processed

5 tbsp. hot water

7 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1 tbsp. granulated sugar

Pinch of salt

White Chocolate Layer

3/4 tsp. powdered gelatin

1 tbsp. water

6 oz. white chocolate, finely chopped

1 1/2 cups heavy cream separated into 1 cup and ½ cup.

Garnish (optional):

Chocolate curls or cocoa powder

Preparation

For the Dark Chocolate Layer:

Layer, butter the bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Place a rack in the center of your oven and preheat to 325˚ F. Combine the butter, chocolate, and espresso powder in a large heatproof bowl set over simmering water. Stir occasionally until the mixture is smooth. Remove from the heat and let cool slightly, about 5 minutes. Whisk in the vanilla and egg yolks. Set aside.
In a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites and salt on medium speed until foamy, about 30 seconds. Crumble half of the brown sugar into the mixing bowl with your fingers to remove any lumps. Beat until incorporated, about 15 seconds. Add the remaining brown sugar and continue to beat on high speed until stiff peaks form, about 1 minute more. Using a whisk, mix one-third of the beaten egg whites to the chocolate mixture to lighten it. Fold in the remaining egg whites gently with a rubber spatula until no streaks remain. Pour the batter into the prepared springform pan and smooth the top with an offset spatula.
Bake until the cake has risen, is firm around the edges and the center has just set but is still soft (should spring back after pressing gently with a finger), about 14-18 minutes. Transfer the cake to a wire rack to cool completely, at least 1 hour. Do not remove the cake from the pan. (If not making the second layer right away, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to proceed.)

For the Milk chocolate layer:

whisk together the cocoa powder and hot water in a small bowl; set aside. Melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over simmering water, stirring occasionally until smooth. Once melted, remove from the heat and let cool slightly, 2-5 minutes.
In the clean bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the cream, sugar and salt on medium speed until the mixture begins to thicken, about 30 seconds. Increase the speed to high and whip until soft peaks form when the whisk is lifted, 30-60 seconds. Whisk in the cocoa powder mixture until smooth. Using a whisk, mix one-third of the whipped cream to the chocolate mixture to lighten it. Fold in the remaining whipped cream gently with a rubber spatula until no streaks remain. Pour the mousse into the springform pan over the cooled cake and tap gently on the counter 3 times to remove air bubbles. Gently smooth the top with a spatula. Wipe the inside edge of the pan to remove any drips. Refrigerate for at least 15 minutes while preparing the top layer.

For the White Chocolate Layer/Service:

Sprinkle the gelatin over the water in a small bowl and let stand at least 5 minutes to soften. Place the white chocolate in a medium bowl. Bring ½ cup of the cream to a boil in a small saucepan. Remove the pan from the heat, add the gelatin mixture and stir until dissolved. Pour the hot cream mixture over the white chocolate and let stand about 1 minute. Whisk until the mixture is smooth. Cool to room temperature, about 5-8 minutes, stirring occasionally.
In the clean bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the remaining 1 cup of cream at medium speed until it begins to thicken. Increase the speed to high and whip until soft peaks form when the whisk is lifted, 30-60 seconds. Using a whisk, mix one-third of the whipped cream to the white chocolate mixture to lighten it. Fold in the remaining whipped cream gently with a rubber spatula until no streaks remain. Spoon the white chocolate mousse into the pan over the middle layer. Smooth the top with an offset spatula. Return the cake to the refrigerator and chill until set, at least 2 hours.