HOW TO MAKE A DIY EASTER EGG
*That’s Do It Yolkself!
AFtER a week selfquarantining at home, the shelves chez Rawstorne are starting to look somewhat depleted.
Give it another seven days — by which time, assuming no more of us come down with symptoms of the lurgy, we can once more head to the shops — and we’ll be surviving on pasta and frozen peas.
But that’s not the only problem. As Martha, our ten-year-old, pointed out the other day, Easter is almost upon us and we don’t have any Easter eggs.
While neighbours have offered to pick up essential supplies for us, I fear adding Lindt bunnies onto the list might be testing our new-found friendship.
So I challenged Martha, the youngest of our three daughters, to make her own Easter eggs using only what we had in the cupboards — which turned out to be cooking chocolate, a lone egg mould ... and a party balloon.
STEP 1: MELT YOUR CHOCOLATE
MARthA is less than impressed by our basic ingredients: four 100g bars of dark chocolate.
‘I don’t like it,’ she tells me, having managed to force down a couple of squares. ‘It’s too bitter. can we add sugar to it?’. No. We cannot.
First we set about melting the chocolate. Snapping the bars into small chunks we place them into a heat-resistant bowl, which we then suspend over a pan of boiling water. Martha stirs as they melt into an unctuous goo before removing from the heat and placing to one side.
STEP 2: TAKE A DEEP BREATH
WE’RE fortunate to have one plastic egg mould in the cupboard. But we’ve got enough chocolate to make two eggs. So I need to improvise if we want the second one to take shape. After a quick search online, I return to the kitchen carrying a pack of balloons, leftover from one of our many birthday parties.
‘ta-da,’ I announce, partially inflating one to the size of a grapefruit. As I tie off the top of the balloon to stop it deflating, I insert a metal straw through the knot, being careful not to puncture the balloon in the process. Anything long and thin — a knitting needle or skewer — will do.
STEP 3: GET DUNKING
hAvING let the chocolate cool for five minutes — too hot and there’s a chance it could burst the balloon — Martha dunks the bottom half of the balloon into the gloop. I then ladle more over the top of it until it is completely covered, allowing the excess to run back into the bowl.
this is only the base layer, so don’t get too hung up about what it looks like.
STEP 4: TIME TO CHILL OUT
NExt, select a container big enough to lower the chocolate-coated balloon into, without it touching the bottom or sides. the idea is for it to be suspended by the metal straw, the balloon hanging freely down as the chocolate dries. twenty minutes in the fridge accelerates this process.
In the meantime, Martha fills up the two plastic moulds — half an egg each. they too go into the fridge.
STEP 5: THE TOP COAT
Out comes the balloon from the fridge and on goes the second coat of chocolate. the same happens with the mould. however we make sure to retain a few spoonfuls of the still-liquid chocolate for later. Both the balloon and the moulds are then returned to the fridge for another 20 minutes.
STEP 6: TAKE A POP
NExt comes the trickiest bit. taking a pair of scissors — followed by a knife — I attempt to burst the balloon by cutting away at the knot. It’s harder than it looks because of the risk of damaging the egg.
Removing it isn’t easy either. I make the hole from where the knot emerged slightly bigger and gently tug away at the balloon, inserting the end of the straw inside to prise it away from the interior of the chocolate shell. Eventually it comes out.
In retrospect, I discover advice to rub the balloon with cooking oil before the first coat of chocolate, to ensure it does not stick. the moulds, meanwhile, are much easier; Martha pops out two perfect halves.
STEP 7: FINISHING TOUCH
tO MAkE good the hole in the top left by the balloon knot, I drizzle a bit of the remaining liquid chocolate on to a piece of baking paper, creating a disc-shaped patch. this goes back in the fridge for a few minutes, until it is bendy but not fully set. then, as if you were repairing a puncture, lay it over the hole and seal using a drip or two of the chocolate as ‘glue’. In the same way the two halves of the mould are glued together to create the complete egg. Back both go into the fridge for one last blast of cold.
SO, ARE THEY CRACKING . . . OR A BIT OF A YOLK?
LOOkING at our two eggs side-by-side, there are clear differences. For starters, the egg from the mould has a nice shine. the balloon egg has a much duller finish. Its shape also leaves something to be desired. ‘It looks like a chocolate cabbage,’ observes my wife. She has a point. But let’s look at the positives.
For starters, making our own eggs has filled a couple of hours — and if there’s one thing we have at the moment, it’s time. It’s also been educational. My daughter has learnt about the ability of materials to turn from solid to liquid — as well as a couple of new swear words, muttered while extracting the balloon.
And come Easter Day, I’m pretty sure there will be no shortage of takers for our less-than-oval offering. Because, cabbage-like or not, it’s still 100 per cent chocolate.