Tonight we conjured magic.
There are desserts that announce themselves loudly — towering cakes with frosting swirls, elaborate tarts with perfectly arranged fruit. And then there's this: a small, unassuming ramekin that contains a kind of edible sorcery. Chocolate lava cake. The dessert that makes people gasp when they break through the surface and molten chocolate flows out like a river.
The secret is in the timing. Twelve minutes exactly. Not eleven, where the centre stays too liquid. Not thirteen, where it sets completely and you lose the lava. Twelve minutes at 200°C, and you get that perfect contradiction: a set outer cake with a liquid chocolate core.
I started by melting good dark chocolate — 70% cacao, the kind that tastes complex and slightly bitter — with butter until it was glossy and smooth. Whisked eggs and sugar until pale and thick. Folded the chocolate mixture through gently, carefully, trying not to deflate all that air. A small amount of flour, just enough to give it structure without making it cakey.
Into buttered, cocoa-dusted ramekins the batter went. Then into the hot oven. Twelve minutes of anticipation. When they emerged, the tops were cracked and set, promising something spectacular beneath.
I turned them out onto plates, tapped the bottoms gently, and lifted the ramekins away. A dusting of cocoa. A dollop of cream. Then the moment of truth: breaking through with a spoon, watching that molten centre flow. Pure chocolate decadence.
