Salutations, clowns!
It’s been on-and-off cold here in Chicago. When it gets chilly outside, people like to proclaim loudly about how much they love to cozy up on the couch under a warm blanket, and enjoy a hot drink, while staring wistfully outside.
In theory, that is very nice. However, in practice, at least over here, things are a little different. I like being under the blanket and everything, but the blankets on our couch perpetually smell like feet (no matter how many times we wash them), and every time I sit down, our cat Scorpion likes to jump up on my chest, show me his butthole, and sleep on my face.
So this week, to celebrate winter, let’s enjoy a nice calming cup of hot cocoa!!!
A trendy way to drink hot cocoa these days is by turning it into what’s known as a cocoa bomb.
Unless you have been sleeping under a rock, you probably know what a cocoa bomb is. It’s a sphere fashioned with chocolate, and filled with powdered hot cocoa mix. Once you pour hot liquid over it, you’ll find yourself with a nice cup of hot chocolate.
What you may not know is that you can actually make inexpensive cocoa bombs in the comfort of your own home. Inspired by my friend and former coworker Travis, who sent me a video of himself enjoying a cocoa bomb with an entire shrimp in it, I thought to myself, “Dannis, Travis’ idea of shrimp cocoa bombs is magnificent, and the possibilities are endless. Be inspired. Make your own version. Be free.”
Everyone, thank Travis for this week’s escapades, and go give him a follow on Instagram.
I rifled through the pantry to see what I too, could put into a cocoa bomb.
I found a camping MRE (meal, ready-to-eat), leftover from an experiment this past summer. This is instant kung pao beef. All you need to do is add hot water and suddenly, you have a nutritious and beefy lunch if you’re out hiking. Or if you’re me, you can go to the store, laugh at it, and buy it as a future investment for your newsletter. And who doesn’t like rice, peanuts, and dehydrated chunks of beef in their hot cocoa?
[Yes, I know, Harvey looks filthy. He’s like a dirty little kid. I’ll yell at him later.]
I started by attempting to make a round shell in both of my whiskey ice ball molds.
I gently microwaved some baking chocolate and brushed the inside of two ice ball molds, with the gentle caress of an artist who’s mastered his craft as a chocolatier. Then I took the brush and gently painted my toenails with it. I let the chocolate firm up in the freezer, and applied an additional layer in each.
The result was pretty much what you’d expect, which was just two hollow halves of a chocolate sphere. But the issue was, I’d have to extract the chocolate from the silicone. I whispered to the chocolate, “Come fulfill your destiny, my child, and become a delicious kung pao beef cocoa ball.” I gently loosened the edges of the chocolate away from the mold and prepared for greatness.
The first moment I applied a slight force to the chocolate, I heard a cracking sound. Then I heard another sound, which was me, sobbing.
“Shit, I fucked it up,” I said.
“Let me try,” said Davida. She walked into the kitchen, and using a gentle touch, she proceeded to fuck up the other half too.
I lined the molds with plastic wrap and tried again, with determination in both my heart and ass.
I let the halves freeze and plopped down on the couch to wait. Scorpion jumped up on my chest, showed me his butthole, and then fell asleep.
The timer went off after 10 minutes, scaring both me and Scorpion.
I gently tugged one half of the chocolate sphere out an ice mold, using the plastic wrap. So far so good. The second followed suit, all in one piece.
I looked at the two scrotal halves of the cocoa bomb with a sense of satisfaction, and said to myself in a cockney accent, “Dannis, you old chap, you’ve done it again!”
I poured a small helping of the dehydrated kung pao beef into one half of the cocoa bomb.
See that little brown cube resting on top? That’s dehydrated beef, baby!
“Hey babe,” I said, “Can you help me?”
Davida came over and held the halves of the cocoa bomb together while I sealed the whole thing shut. This is what a loving couple does, they help each other out while doing nearly unspeakable things in the kitchen.
Everything was coming together according to plan, as you can see by the gaping hole in the side of the cocoa bomb.
“Here, let me try,” said Davida. She fixed it immediately.
Harvey and the gang surveyed the kung pao beef bomb safely from a distance.
Chocolate is devastating to stuffed animals, so they have to be careful.
We don’t have any cool see-through coffee mugs, so I decided on using a pint glass in order to have a first row seat of the action.
I heated up some plant milk (regular milk makes me fart so much I could actually power a small country), and asked Davida to do the honors by pouring it onto the chocolate sphere.
At first, barely anything happened, since the walls of the kung pao beef bomb were relatively thick.
Then, slowly, it began to collapse inwards, and the dehydrated kung pao beef floated upwards to the top.
“I did it,” I said, to myself.
I watched the dehydrated beef floating around the top of the glass, while the chocolate melted and swirled around. After stirring it up with a spoon, the hot chocolate and kung pao beef mix turned a rich brown.
I know something else that’s a rich shade of brown, but that’s for another edition of the newsletter. I cautiously took a spoonful, and slurped on the liquid by itself. It was a pretty standard-issue hot chocolate, which is to say, it was pretty good. Next, I skimmed some solids off the top, including a chunk of rehydrated beef, some peanuts, and rice, and shoved it in the hole area of my face.
I chewed thoughtfully. It wasn’t terrible, considering. All it tasted like was something vaguely Asian-flavored, but also seasoned with Hershey’s syrup. But something was amiss. Suddenly, I felt multiple realities merging and splitting inside my consciousness, and aliens began speaking to me in foreign tongues. In another timeline, the inventor of kung pao merged with that of the inventor of the cocoa bomb, combining the two delicacies together. This combination disrupted space and time altogether, creating a gravitational force that compressed every single timeline into one, causing some massive changes to the elements of the universe, ones I can’t describe in the mere confines of any human language. A blue light began to shine out of the palms of my hands and the color of my irises transformed into a pale gray.
“I’ve seen everything,” I whispered to myself.
Anyway, bye.
Well, that took an unexpected turn. Don’t forget to share Food is Stupid by clicking on the little handy button I’ve put right in front of you. It helps the newsletter grow, and the bigger it gets, the more meaningless life becomes, for all of us.
And please, don’t forget to join the ranks of the paid subscriber crew. For that elite crowd, I’ll be making another bomb later this week: The vegan meat bomb. As if reality couldn’t be screwed with any further. Paid subscribers get some cool shit, like extra content multiple times a month, along with access to all of the paid-subscriber archives at foodisstupid.substack.com. Seriously, give it a thought.
The world feels so wild and unpredictable these days, so please take a deep breath, and don’t forget to take care of yourselves. Take a break, eat a snack, maybe sleep in a little, call an old friend.
As always, I love you, and I’ll hop into some of your inboxes later this week.
"Then I took the brush and gently painted my toenails with it" this is hilarious! Such an enjoyable read. And the chocolate fulfilling its destiny is like Brandon Sanderson's soul-casting in his Stormlight Archives. I'm craving molten chocolate now!
Inspiration! I now know what to do with the MREs left over from Y2K.