Not every dish Chef D’oeuf and I make finds its way onto the blog. That’s mostly because I’m quite a lazy writer. But it’s also because sometimes our new creations aren’t necessarily worthy of a blog post. I’m particularly thinking of the time we make Punjabi chickpea curry (because I saw someone make it on TV and had such a gnawing craving afterwards) and despite loading it with spices, onions, garlic, and all manner of delicious things, it literally tasted of nothing. There were no distinguishing flavours. It just tasted like chickpeas. And then, oddly enough, my flat smelt of curry for at least a week afterwards.

Anyway, we don’t always knock it out of the park. 

However, and I’m shunning all my usual inclinations for modesty aside, this chocolate tart is the best thing we have ever made. 

It’s full of delicious things, which when combined together, with the love and attention we shower them with, form an almost supernaturally tasty tart. It’s so hypnotically good, I could kidnap your first born, hand you a slice of this tart, and you would still send me a “thank you” note in the post afterwards (Chef D’oeuf tried to convince me to remove this line from the post, he said it was “too dark”. I curtly told him I can’t be censored and reminded him he was there to take photographs, stare at rice and look pretty).

I’m genuinely worried that were this recipe to get into the wrong hands, wayward nations could use it against us for all manner of evils.

Anyway, here’s the recipe. Let’s hope the North Koreans aren’t reading.

Also this is an original Nigella recipe… but with a gallon of cream, butter up to your elbows and a ton of Oreos, you already knew that…

Recipe: https://www.nigella.com/recipes/salted-chocolate-tart

Serves 14. Chef D’eouf and I are a measly 2. However I like to give friends living nearby a few slices each to enjoy. I describe handing out slices of this chocolate tart as “doing God’s work”.

For the base

First we crush two packs of Oreos until they’re a fine rubble (the odd chunky piece can be quite nice too). I let Chef D’oeuf loose on this task to burn away some of his excess energy. 

Mix the crushed biscuits with finely chopped chocolate (50g dark chocolate), melted butter (50g unsalted) and a generous pinch of sea salt flakes (Nigella asks for “smoked” sea salt but obviously we don’t have that).

Press the mix into a tart tin (loose bottomed) and try to spread evenly across the base and up the sides.

Leave to chill in the fridge for at least an hour.

For the filling

Pour 500mls of double cream into a large saucepan, add 100gs of finely chopped dark chocolate, 50gs coca (sieved), instant coffee powder (2 teaspoons but I think Chef D’oeuf adds 3,874 teaspoons), 75gs caster sugar, 2 teaspoons olive oil, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract and another generous pinch of sea salt.  

Put the pan over a low / medium heat so the chocolate melts gently into a smooth mixture. I do this patiently while Chef D’oeuf spends time talking about microwaves on the phone to a friend. Or microwaaaaaaaaaaaavay as Nigella would say.

In a separate bowl, I whisk 25gs cornflour and 60mls full fat milk together.

Then, I take the chocolate saucepan off the heat, and whisk in the cornflour and milk mixture until it is smoothly incorporated. 

I put the pan back on a low heat and stir regularly with a wooden spoon until the mixture thickens. This takes about 10 minutes, at which point the mixture should be thick enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon and if you run your finger through the mix – the line should stay.

Pour the mixture into a large jug and leave to chill in the fridge for 15 minutes. You need to give the mixture a little “shower cap” (wet a circle of greaseproof paper, wring out the extra water, and place directly on top of the mixture) to prevent a skin from forming at the top.

Pour the mixture into your biscuit lined tart case.

This next step is the hardest.

Leave the tart in the fridge overnight. Sleep restlessly as all you can think about is the tart waiting for you patiently in the fridge. I’m convinced that during those sleepless nights, I’ve heard the tart quietly whispering to me from its cold prison. “Elisha I’m ready… eat me… it’s only been an hour but I swear to you I’m set, I’m ready to go…” Don’t succumb to the temptation. Wait patiently young grasshopper.

Enjoy for breakfast the next day!

Nigella urges you to “slice modestly” but I say go to hell Nigella and I’ll slice my tart however I want to. ¼ of an insanely delicious tart anyone?