Chocolate Therapy

So it turns out a dessert called a "tort" is not the same as an action at law called a tort it is in fact pretty much chocolate scrambled eggs. It's a cake without flour. A day without rain. A summer without Interferon. Oh, wait, it snowed last night while I was making this, on the second day of spring. And I went down to Central Drugs today to pick up my shit: eighteen thousand dollars worth. Pegolated Interferon, Ribavirin and Telaprivar aka Incivek. But fuck that shit this here dessert is in my refrigerator right now and it is callin' my name.

Finished product I will be consuming for the next few weeks as I struggle to get enough fat in my system to carry the medicine deep into my liver

This dessert took about three hours to produce and another hour to decorate. There is $16.00 worth of chocolate in there altogether, half a pound of butter, six jumbo eggs, and a pint of heavy cream. And I did it all, including the whipped cream, with a pastry whisk. It was a workout, first to whip the yolks with the melted chocolate/butter goop, and then to make meringue with the whites and cream of tartar. The recipe said to make stiff peaks, and I dare you to try that with a whisk. I didn't get there, to be honest, but I did get pretty close. Fuck it.
You know when you space out and leave the scrambled eggs too long on the burner? How they get kind of pasty/grainy? Turns out if you add enough sugar and chocolate and butter it makes a great texture and binds all the sinful stuff just right.

Under the influence of infra-purple heating element in my secret laboratory the expansion factor of butter, eggs and chocolate increases exponentially. And this is after I left the oven open to go find my new phone with  fabulous camera.

It takes almost an hour to bake at 350 I set my online egg-timer which is a simple graphic of an hourglass with the virtual sand spilling down so the top part is empty when the annoying and extremely loud Westclox-type bell clangs off when the time, measured to 3 decimal places is up. As it baked it rose beautifully clear over the top of my new $17.00 spring-form pan as I plunged my little  handcrafted toothpick analogue into center-mass to test for done.
Then, like so many things in life, it fell. So much that I had to turn the basic tort upside down after it cooled overnight to make a flat enough top for spreading the ganache, white chocolate flakes and raspberries. (I got that trick off the Internets!)
Still you have to plane off the rim-crust so it will lay flat. And afterwards I mixed up my tort-shavings with the leftover ganache (semisweet chocolate and heavy cream) to make a giant bitter-chocolate candy bar I would kill children to hog for myself. It's the size of a bundle of hundred dollar bills big enough to pay for a month of medicine. 180 hundies. Think about it.