An unfortunate trait of my taste is that I adore sweets. I love to take my time with a new dessert, smelling it, tasting it, allowing its textures to melt across my tongue. In this case, I have been presented with a new twist on an old favourite: my mother’s chocolate mousse. She prepares them across the day for my arrival for dinner in the evening in glass bowls that once contained a store bought souffle.

Over the years the recipe changes, not as a matter of improvement, but more towards that my mother can not remember how it was done last time so improvises. This means my lucky heart is able to experience something new and (baring a disaster) delicious. Sometimes it is much more sweet, other times more bitter, but always balanced.

In this case, the mousse is solid when served cold, its viscosity such that when a spoon is rested atop its surface it does not sink, however any more pressure and the metal would soon find the bottom of the bowl. As the spoon sinks though, I can hear the little bubbles crackle as they expand to the surface, and can smell the subtleties of dark chocolate. Clearly a good batch this season.

Upon taste I find that my assumption is true: it is indeed made with dark chocolate, mixed with what can only be thought to be sweetened condensed milk. However the most curious part is not the flavour, which in short can be summed up as “mousse”, but rather the way that mousse changes solidity at the mere glance of heat from my tongue. It almost melts to slowly coat the inside of my mouth, covering the entirety of my tongue and teeth. This inadvertent design forces me to enjoy the full flavour while collecting each remnant.

After having considered this very notion, I realise that there is nothing left to enjoy: the glass is empty. My mother being who she is only provided a small portion to prevent herself from having too much at once, and in most cases I agree, here however I am longing for just a spoonful more.

It’s a fun dish that plays with the kinetic senses of the mouth, while instilling the idea of what it is: a mousse. Is it special? In a way yes, but I would not want to give this to someone with a michelin star. It is home cooking, and thus is good for the soul, and fills the stomach. I do have another one in the fridge, and I look forward to once again eating it, I however would have made this a little larger, and maybe topped with something salty to offset the deep bitterness that dances with the sweet.

So if by chance you have the opportunity to have one of my mother’s mousse, then I strongly recommend that you do entirely for the experience. Each one is different because the process differs, and you get an insight into the cook’s day.

Yours until the next course,