The Curious Case of the Chocolate Custard

As I posted before, Daniel gave me a wonderful chocolate cookbook for my birthday. I have been meaning to cook something out of it, and today was the day. My dish? A basic chocolate custard.

You know custard. Egg-based, cooked lovingly over low heat, whisked constantly. I had the whole afternoon, so I figure, why not?

I was doing fine, pouring the milk and cocoa into the egg yolks and sugar, whisking constantly over low heat. And then I dropped one bowl into the other.

Chocolate milk and eggs went everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I think we're going to have to paint the kitchen. But there was plenty left, and I had to keep whisking constantly over low heat. I was drenched in chocolate, and found it necessary to remove articles of clothing. I won't bore you (or offend you) by explaining what my stage of dress was at this point, but please know that it was certainly unusual for kitchen work. This was the moment that Mark came in to see what all the commotion was.

To his credit, he didn't comment on my appearance. He did suppress a laugh, but he cleaned up the mess without balking while I whisked constantly over low heat.

Despite all this whisking constantly over low heat, the custard never set. I finally gave up. I poured the soupy mess into a bowl and put it in the fridge, holding out hope that it would set up in the cool air, much like instant pudding does.

Sadly, I did not let Mark in on the secret that the custard didn't set. He comes in later to unload some groceries, and needs to move the custard bowl out of the way. He pulls the bowl out with the force that one would use to move a bowl of nicely set custard, but with way too much force for a bowl of chocolate milk. It goes everywhere. He cleaned it up, and Ben was nice enough to mop the floor.

Later still, we all sit down to watch the DVR'd Dallas/Pittsburgh game. (Please don't tell me who won.) I'm thinking what a waste it would be to throw the custard milk away, and decide to use it for a dipping sauce for pretzels. I pour some in a small ramekin, and nuke it. I then go looking for the pretzels (they're on the living room floor - of course!) When I return, I find my bowl of custard milk much changed. It looks like something I might patch holes in asphalt with. But I give it a mix, and find it rather tasty.

Curious in a scientific way, I pour another ramekin of custard milk and nuke it as well. But this time I nuke it and stir it every 15 seconds or so, until it comes to the consistency of pudding. I try it - delicious!

So I take the entire bowl, put it in the microwave, and nuke it lovingly until it sets up as custard should.

Apparently, the constant, loving whisking of custard over low heat is not actually necessary. What is actually required for custard, after you have poured half of your mixture all over your kitchen, is to zap-fry it in the microwave for a couple of minutes. Who knew?