Back in the Burbs, and Missing the 6th

I think I'm having 6eme withdrawals. For the past four weeks we were spoiled with chocolatiers, museums, and kick ass kitchen equipment stores at our footsteps. The 6eme(6th arrondissement) is notorious for tourists, and all the fancy things that tourists like to see and do. I know, I live here now, so I guess I'm not technically considered a tourist, but that doesn't mean I don't like looking at(and sometimes buying) 6 different kinds of macarons from Ladurée and 7 euro hot chocolate from Angelina.

 

How often do you have a Pierre Marcolini Chocolatier right down the street?

 

Now that Romain and Melanie are back from their conveniently long vacation, we're back in Bougival, the suburbs where Quentin's parents live. Being back here has helped me a lot, work-wise, as I'm not distracted by the distant calls of the boulangeries and patisseries. It's also helps me health-wise, because if I really want that pain aux chocolat, I have to walk a good ways to get it. The way back is mostly uphill, too.

So, I've been pretty good at not eating too much junk recently, but the other night I felt the urge... the urge to make something bad. I wanted something gooey and chocolatey. I was halfway done with my spec writing for the day, and wanted a little pick-me-up to get me through the last stretch of fabrics and sofas. I recently came across a recipe for "5 Minute Mug Cake" in which you actually microwave yourself a seemingly gooey and delicious chocolate cake. I didn't want to go through the entire process of making my dark chocolate espresso soufflés(I will post soon, I promise) which is what I really wanted, so I made do with the thought of making chocolate cake à la mug. The recipe calls for a few tablespoons each of flour, cocoa, milk, oil, and one egg. You're supposed to just mix it all and microwave it for 5 minutes and voilà... chocolate cake. But, oh no, it was so not chocolate cake. It was more like a chunk of car tire with a hint of chocolate. Seriously. Even letting it soak for 5 minutes in a glass of milk couldn't save it. It didn't even look pretty. I had to take a picture just to show you how nasty it was... (knife to symbolize my anger towards said "cake")

Gross. Never making that again. I hoped to compensate by making the chocolate soufflés which I know how to make, and know are delicious... but never got around to it. Luckily, Quentin's younger brother Gabriel made up for it by making me pain perdu(french toast to you 'mericans) with Nutella for dinner tonight. Okay, the Nutella was my idea... but it still hit the spot.