Joyeux Noël! Hercule's Hot Chocolate (Agatha Christie's Poirot)
“Hercule Poirot sat at breakfast in his small but agreeably cosy flat in Whitehall Mansions. He had enjoyed his brioche and his cup of hot chocolate. Unusually, for he was a creature of habit and rarely varied his breakfast routine, he asked his valet, George, to make him a second cup of chocolate.”
I don't like Christmas. I'd like to say it’s because my dad died around Christmas time, but it isn't. I hated it a long time before then. I don't like the idea of presents. Even when I was at school, children coming in after the holidays comparing the gifts they had received...it seemed obscene, especially when I was seeing news on the television about poverty and famine. I'm not against giving or receiving gifts, but I like to live a simple life and the complete lavishness of the season fills me with dread. I can't even decide what I want for breakfast half the time. How am I meant to pick out what I want for the office Christmas lunch six months in advance? The only thing I ever really liked was getting the little satsuma wrapped in the blue paper. One year we got a little round beanbag instead of the satsuma. It didn't smell like Christmas. I pulled out all of the stuffing and sprinkled it out of my bedroom window.
I spend Christmas day on my own now. I do this by my own choice. There are several people I could spend it with, but the truth is I just don't want to. I enjoy a day to myself. I love waking up in the morning and having a tiny bit of pork pie (it's a Leicester tradition but I can't stomach pork pie at the best of times, so I just have a tiny piece to appease baby jesus). I love looking through the Radio Times Christmas edition and settling on what I'm going to have on in the background while I potter around writing, cooking and pondering. I do feel bad that there are people that want to see me and spend time with me, but I need to reconcile my differences with Christmas first. Those that mind don't matter, those that matter don't mind.
"It means, in fact, the overeating! And with the overeating there comes the indigestion! Which leads to 'irritability' and therefore crime.”
As Poirot observes above, more murders are committed over Christmas. So there's another negative against the festive season. I don't know if this is true in real life or not, but certainly on television the detective dramas seem to ramp things up during December and January. But that's all the better for those of us that want a quiet, modest Christmas wrapped up in blankets with a hot chocolate and a cosy murder. Poirot enjoys many cups of hot chocolate throughout Christie's novels about the Belgian detective, and I think Christmas is a perfectly indulgent time to make your own.
150ml full fat milk
40ml double cream
40g dark chocolate (I use 70%)
a cinnamon stick
sugar and salt, to taste
In a saucepan bring the milk, cream and cinnamon to a simmer over a low heat. Slow and steady wins the race! When it's coming up to a simmer, chop the chocolate into reasonable chunks. Remove the milk from the heat and leave to stand for a little while, about a minute ( just so long as you don't go chucking the chocolate in straight off...you don't need to time it to exactly a minute) then put the chocolate into the milk. Leave to sit for 5-10 minutes so the chocolate can melt. Give it a little whisk, taste it and add sugar and salt as you feel, then put it back on the heat to warm up. Strain out the cinnamon stick into your mug and enjoy!
This serves one but can be easily doubled.
Despite all my humbug I do hope you have a lovely time over Christmas if you can. I'll be here for you if not, just send me a message and I'll send back something to cheer you up.
Next time on Baking The Detectives...
"I'm here neither to sing, nor collect for charity, and although it's not my primary purpose for calling, I do indeed offer you greetings of the season."
Remembering Dickensian and using up leftovers.
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