Food: Oh, The Things To Be Done To Chocolate

When the microwave exploded this morning I took it as a sign to step out of unchartered territory, to go focus on more familiar things that don't involve food preparation. That we’ll leave to the experts.

Now, elephants+baobabs is not quite perceived to offer a platform where recipes will get shared or cooking tips will get dropped. Yet it doesn't rule out a more formal chance exchange of thoughts with culinary magicians along the journey going into the future.

However, there is one ingredient that beckons pondering, interrogation and engagement. Specifically during a spell of uncertainty or adversity when having to lift the mood a little.

Chocolate. Preferably broodingly dark, superiorly black and served undiluted.

If any, it should be declared a stand-alone food group. In an attempt to avoid giving it staple food status, it should undoubtedly be elevated to standard soul stuff.

Savouring it conjures fond memories and moments of nostalgia. Leftover icing scraped from the sides of the mixing bowl when my ma made her multi-layered chocolate cake with apricot jam. It barely beat the baked cheesecake, the cupcakes sprinkled with gold trim or any of the endless culinary desires with which she eternally tempted her ravenous family and appreciative clients. She was a legend in the kitchen and her delectable dishes were testimony to an adventurous enterprising spirit, an exceptional observational trait and a sense of humour, combined with creative expression on a plate as her canvas and commitment towards following a recipe to the last prescribed pinch of salt. All served with generous helpings of love and life.

Geared with mock excitement over the repetitive annual hunt for Easter eggs in the garden, we make our way down the trail and back in time... He cuts a fragile little figure in fleecy Spider-Man pyjamas protecting him against the chilly morning air as he steps out to discover what the bunny dropped in its wake. Years later whimsical moulded figures still find their way to the fantastical collection in his basket. Only this year my surprise was ruined when brought to the realisation that he had already established the true identity of Father Christmas and that tooth fairy from an early age.

In the same vein he particularly remembers how he once adhered to a birthday wish, his mother merely wanting to be showered in chocolate.

And then, one of the most thoughtful Christmas gifts ever must have been a tasting box. It was filled with sheer perfection confined to the inners thereof.

While singing its praises it should be mentioned that chocolate is considered an appropriate accompaniment when poring over the tower of books accumulating beside the bed.

It is the element that defines the sacher torte cake that had become somewhat of a tradition when frequenting a popular German cafe situated along the walkway sloping down to the promenade in the quaint seaside town of Swakopmund on the Namibian coast.

Handmade morsels obtained from a chocolatier affirm the distinct difference between crossing the threshold of a cool shrine - where shelves get stocked with meticulously manufactured swirls or attractively packaged truffles - and hurriedly grabbing a mass-produced slab with nuts from the corner shop.

No need to explain that it's near impossible to watch the film Chocolat to the end, without an imagined interval. For the mere reason that there is reward in interrupting play to embark on a craving-induced raid.

The uncontrollable urge to unwrap just one more square to indulge in a guilty pleasure, hidden in flimsy silver foil, is not supposed to yield exactly the same results as taking a photo that races the pulse. But it gets close.

Oh, the things to be done to chocolate.