Homemade Chocolate Dessert Recipe Essentials

A curvaceous Spanish woman with white skin and flowing black hair reminds me each time to forget that lust is fleeting and love is eternal.

Night. Candles. Lots of warm yellow candles reflecting and shimmering in a shiny sauce poured over sweet desserts. Colorful alcohol served with incandescent straws, like on a tropical island. It is crowded. Everyone is handsome as movie stars in the dim light that flickers over their faces, hiding a magical intimacy behind twinkling eyes. A voluptuous smell whispers secrets that intoxicate the people. Peter Pan flies about among the guests. Adults revert to being children. The grand soiree of sweets releases inside us, as always, the most beautiful feelings.

Now he is standing, his arms crossed, in his unique shop—his dream’s reality. He hopes with all his heart that the next customer to enter will also not purchase a thing, and will never understand his creation, and will provide him with a feeling of embittered arrogance, the sole and absolutely addictive pleasure that he is left with.

My Maud, I want you to know: it’s your French accent when you speak English that makes any food divine and not the fresh ingredients you bought in the market, as you explain to me the importance of their finesse.

Can I get exactly the rice pudding that I like? No big dramas, no heroic revolutions. Changes in life’s basics are totally unacceptable...

In Grandmother’s brown wooden cupboard there is a porcelain bonbon dish. On occasion, Grandmother goes to the cupboard, removes it with great ceremony, turns it in her hands, and weighs the possibilities; as always, she decides that once again this is not a good enough reason to use the bonbon dish, which is growing old with disuse, slowly losing its role as the subjective expectation that has never been fulfilled.

When I was five, I fell in love with Snow White. Twenty years later I was living in Paris. Then, for the first time in my life, I met her. She came for only an hour. We lit candles and I put on the music I always wanted to listen to with her. She didn’t say a word, but in her beautiful silent way she made me understand that my legendary love will work its magic with any other ordinary girl in the world.

A hot chocolate sauce made sometime earlier was spilled into the pedigreed chef’s bowl of spaghetti. Now he must explain this stroke of good luck; no doubt his mixture of scrambled words will be crowned “genius” with verve and pluck!

Strong flavors, bold scents, and you across from me with bright red lipstick and endless décolletage all prove to me once again that simplicity is the true ingenuity of the senses.

I will always remember this one beautiful sunny day in the amusement park. I was ten. I asked Dad to give me some money and bought a red toffee apple for the girl who was constantly playing on the white seesaw. Thirty years have passed and I still can’t forget her, because when she gave the apple to “Spider” Tom I understood forever that true eternal love is (all) the things I cannot obtain.

My Love, three years have passed since I last saw you. So many things are changing around me and the war seems endless. Only this late afternoon ritual, standing in the long line of soldiers in front of the huge aluminum saucepans covered with steam leaves me with the feeling that after all there are some things that never change in life. Still waiting for your letter.

After searching extensively, this week I acquired a pet chef for myself, the kind that no one else has. He is mine and only mine, unknown, and he prepares delicate creams with rare spices and rare chocolate mixed with rare champagne. Now, with this new find secreted away in my possession, I can at long last proclaim and define myself clearly: there is no one else like me on the face of the earth, I love me so dearly!