Every chef knows that presentation separates a dining experience from a meal. Rachel and Michael Dunn, the Concord-based chocolatiers of Rachel Dunn Chocolates, know that presentation separates their confectionery from candy. Presentation is also what distinguishes the company's Chocolate Workshop from any old cooking class. Before the workshop even started a staff member was doing her best to build us pupils into a fervor, clapping her hands with enthusiasm.
Michael Dunn, who alternates teaching the workshop with his wife Rachel, presided over the workshop from his podium with a professorial presence. "Art and intention." This was his ethos. He explained his intentions for each confectionery tool that lay before us. Nougat, peppermint patty, caramel pancakes, English toffee, chocolate truffle, marshmallow, graham crackers, and a strawberry: These were the foundations on which our dessert pieces were to be built. Two heated pots of chocolate, one white, one a 55% cocoa mix: these were both the glue and the paint. The Dunn's artisanship was on full display as he modeled how to dip the tuxedo strawberry. First in the pot of white chocolate, giving it a shirt, then in the dark chocolate, giving it a tux. Pull the piece from the bowl too quickly, Dunn instructed, and the chocolate dribbles all over and settles unevenly. Pull too slowly and you risk the piece sticking to the dipping tool, as I learned. As Dunn etched a chocolate bowtie onto his strawberry his hands moved of their own effortless volition. Chocolate making is apparently as much art as it is science. As culinary artist, Dunn proved himself a gifted demonstrator. However, as a science teacher Dunn presumed much of his class. "And what happens to chocolate at 95 degrees Fahrenheit?" Dunn posed this question to the class. Like me, most attendee's chocolate knowledge started and ended with how many candy bars we could name. "At 95 degrees ..." If anyone knew the answer, they remained silent. Some fidgeted with their chocolates, perhaps worried Dunn might call on them. Kindly, he never did. "Alpha crystals form!" Dunn seemed genuinely confident that the class was following him and continued a lecture which, to a beginner, may as well have been a reading of the Large Hadron Collider's instruction manual. At the class' end students wrapped up the sweets they'd made and joined Dunn in the front room for a tasting of Dunn-made specialties. Among the most interesting were the sweet and salty pumpkin seed brittle and their famous "Unbelievalbe Apple", a franken-sized Fuji coated in dark chocolate, caramel, and roasted almonds. As I write this I'm snacking on the creations I took home. Mine look like a mud puddle poured over a tray of gravel and one strawberry, yet they're still delicious. And this of course is because I didn't make any of the ingredients and if had, they'd probably taste awful. Strangely, this is my only real criticism of the class. On their website the class is repeatedly advertised as a workshop in which you "make ... chocolates". But in truth you're only learning presentation, fun as that may be. Don't go if you're a newbie looking to come away with applicable chocolate making experience. Don't go if you imagine yourself making gingerbread houses and horsing around; this class is pretty involved and fairly steadily paced. Go if you want to improve your decorating skills. Go if you're looking for a welcoming environment to have a unique culinary experience. Go if You want to come home with a variety of gourmet chocolates
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