This is not your typical “death by chocolate” story. Our reverie is about living the very best way, through our senses. We make every occasion a celebration, even in our dreams.
Chocolate Mousse Cake is the ultimate decadent food and foreplay seduction, and I’ve chosen it for our sensual reverie.
Nothing you will read here is true … most of us only wish for such moments in our lives. And yet, I truly believe that if we activate our creativity and loosen the reigns on our assumptions about appropriate behavior, we can enjoy a least half a dish of chocolate mousse, more often than we’ve ever imagined.
Close your eyes now, and settle down somewhere comfortable. Imagine that yesterday was Valentine’s Day.
Excuse me? It really was Valentine’s Day yesterday?
Well … that’s pure coincidence, because here we are creating a little erotic fantasy at Anne of Carversville. Mine is an imaginary story for when my mind is bored and needs a Creative Jumpstart.
Chocolate Mousse Cake is the ultimate decadent food and foreplay seduction.
Just pretending now … nothing so wickedly wonderful would actually ever happen in our dull and dreary lives … imagine that you received not only flowers for Valentine’s Day, but the doorman called and said: “I have a box from Veniero’s, one of New York’s most sumptuous pasticcerias.
Yes, yes . .. of course, you can substitute your town bakeshop in this fantasy … as long as the baker is sexy and a bit sinful. Perhaps she is like the woman baker in the 2006 movie “Chocolat.”
For me, the box would come from Veniero’s, probably because this intoxicating, make-believe lover of a man knows that I used to kiss the ground, when my plane landed in Italy.
A Minor Digression
Kindly excuse the unsightly, uninspiring Veniero’s website, one that I think requires my touch. It bears NO resemblance to the cake that I unpacked in my kitchen … .a masterpiece of a erotic food extravaganza … a sublimely smooth, luscious, scandalously erotic cake that oozed seduction under the message printed to me on top.
I will let you imagine what the words said … just be wicked when you daydream. And remember … this is “just pretend. “
If a lover sent you a chocolate mousse cake for Valentine’s Day, guaranteed to seduce you, it would say … .
… if the message actually was THAT one … well it is too hot, even for Anne of Carversville. Lucky you!
My imaginary cake kept me company for the rest of the day. With the choice of going out or staying left to me, I chose cooking. Indeed, my dears. I can cook and that’s not a madeup story.
I decided on a simple fettucine in my fantasy. In true Anne style, I didn’t measure anything … just tasted my way through the making.
Smoked Salmon Fettucine a la Anne’s Valentine’s Day Fantasy
Melt some butter in the pan.
Add one large, chopped shallot. Alright, I used two, but I like quite a lot of flavor. You may prefer one.
Add an ample amount of heavy cream. Bring to very low simmer.
Meanwhile, be working on the fettucine noodles. I prefer a thinner, lighter fettucine noodle, but you choose your preference. Cook fettucine until al dente.
Have very sexy Parisian lounge music on your iPod, even though the cake came from Italy.
Be sure to wear an apron over your stockings and garter belt.
Stir the sauce and taste. Season with salt and pepper. Add the remains of yesterday’s bottle of Sancerre to the sauce. I would not add more than 1/4 bottle. Most of the alcohol will cook away, leaving a wonderful tasting white wine sauce.
I served the pasta with grilled in olive oil zucchini and asparagus in my dream. So get that going in a flat skillet pan.
Multi-tasking may become a bit difficult now, because you have the fettucini spitting in the pot, the veggies getting nicely browned in olive oil, the cream sauce bubbling happily and the cakeman’s arms around your waist, helping you stir.
Remember that women are superb at multi-tasking and stay focused on your timing, even if it is 10 pm and you’re both ravenous. It is the woman’s job to deliver dinner for the cakeman.
I’m assuming that your candles are lit, you moved the flowers to the table, and used ironed, linen napkins (NO PAPER NAPKINS!!!!!!!!).
In my house, table sitting gets extra intimate, because I use a loveseat with my dining room table. This is good and bad. The intimacy is relaxing and lovely. And you can get into some powerful trouble with the chocolate mousse cake … at least in your dreams.
Sorry for the daytime photo. The point of my reverie is that cozy banquette.
OK. Fettucine is finished.
For the sauce, you have diced up an 8 oz package of smoked salmon, or the equivalent from your Jewish deli.
Add the smoked salmon to the sauce and cook gently, just to warm.
Now I am confused, and my recipe books are in Carversville. In my dream I cut the tips off scallions and added about 1/4 cup of greens to the sauce. It tasted wonderful.
However, writing now I think I should have used capers instead.
Let me assure you, that either scallions or capers in the sauce is perfect. And as long as you are wearing stockings and a garter belt, cakeman won’t even notice this small mistake.
What would Barbara Bush do? She would wear pearls to eat the chocolate mousse cake.
Eat Dinner, Time for Dessert
For a woman who likes a lot of foreplay, I’m rushing through this segment, but I’m already at 900 words. I should tell you that in my dream I talked to my erotic cakeman about this Erotic Food Blogging business. He has some ideas for a web site that he wants to build.
Anne is always discussing business. Always. I have a positively orgasmic relationship with business, and in my chocolate mousse cake fantasy I was giving the gentleman my thoughts about getting a little edgy with his sensual food presentation.
“Play with people’s minds,” I counselled him. Add some sexy spice to your food offering.
My mind is racing now, with this culinary fantasy.
In a Eureka moment, I remembered the Kiki de Montparnasse chocolate sauce in the bedroom. Rising like some saucy statue of Venus, I said: “Let me show you what I mean.”
In my dream, we have no real sexual inhibitions, so I thought nothing of strolling back into the dining room carrying the jar of chocolate sauce next to my bed.
And before you all just gasp with shock and perhaps an ounce of delight (that will be my growing number of male readers) … the jar is unopened.
Until this chocolate mousse cake dream, the chocolate sauce was a fantasy in the fantasy.
It’s only now, that the jar serves all of us in our decadent inspiration. Indeed, my Kiki de Montparnasse Sauce L’Amour is contributing to a scandalous bit of cyber sex.
I am prim and proper then, in my dream, showing the cakeman my unopened jar of chocolate sauce. He smiled, asking me what one does with chocolate sauce from Manhattan’s most erotic, upscale shopping emporium.
“You make dessert of a special woman,” I answered.
Time To Cut the Cake
And there we were … tete a tete on the banquette … candles blazing, when I put the first forkful of Veniero’s completely decadent, sinfully delicious chocolate mousse cake in my mouth. Licking my lips slowly, I explored the full range of its high notes and low ones.
Are your eyes still closed, because it’s soon time to create your own erotic fantasy. I certainly can’t tell you the details of mine.
Each of us must define our own pleasures in life. I only insist that you have some.
Perhaps I can give you just a small Creative Jumpstart. Let me see about a Flickr Search for Chocolate Decadence.
A) He might feed you a bite of this strumptious cake, and you will very, very slowly lick it off the fork. Perhaps you will take 30 seconds to eat this one bite of cake. And you will flick your tongue in the corner of your mouth, licking that one little bit of frosting that is hanging on for dear life.
B) Looking into your eyes, cakeman becomes bolder. He cuts a bite of cake and puts down the fork, picks up the mousse cake, which melts in his fingers on contact. Opening your gorgeously seductive mouth, you invite the cake in for an intimate visit, properly thanking the masculine fingers that delivered your delight.
Is this enough for you, my dear readers? Can you go it alone now, in your own chocolate mousse cake reveries?
Please, please. My brain is tired today. What do you mean “more, more”? Let me think.
Hmmm … well there is the matter of the unusued jar of chocolate sauce. And look again at “crime scene’s” photo of the chocolate mousse cake. Indeed, I am having a brain wave.
Do you know the Yiddish word “schmear”? Actually epicurious says it’s shmirn.
If you order your bagel with a schmear of cream cheese, think what happens. The cream cheese or saucy spread is smeared over the bagel, or other surface … and then you eat it, right? The two elements become one dish to be savoured.
Same with chocolate sauce. You add it to ice cream and eat every spoonful until the bowl is empty.
C) In this rather decadent third fantasy, one I’ve been dragged into by my beloved readers, because goodness knows, I would never go there by myself, and without provocation … well in this scenario, there is no bite of anything.
Cakeman’s fingers go into the cake and then onto you, in a gloriously decadent schmear. Really, my dears, you surprise me. I didn’t know you had this in you. Let me channel your thoughts some more.
Ooooohh. Naughty. Naughty. Naughty.
I assumed that your cakeman would only schmear chocolate mousse cake on your lovely lips. But no. I have aroused your imaginations, with all this Erotic Food nonsense, and now his fingers are descending … down your throat.
My, my. Whoever would think that a lady from Lancaster, Pa would delight in the thought of chocolate mousse cake being smeared all over her skin. Careful of the pearls, my dear friends.
You must agree that this is a far more imaginative use of chocolate fondue, chocolate sauce, chocolate frosting.
Are we done yet? No! Really! Well today, you just amaze me totally. Cakeman’s fingers linger still? An entire topical exploration of your body map, perhaps?
I wouldn’t know about these matters. I’m only your Muse, but it seems like a pretty racy and scandalously delightful idea to me. You do understand that eventually cakeman stops schmearing and begins to eat the mousse cake.
You have become his equivalent of a French macaroon, or a sweet cannoli. He cannot separate you from the confectionary delights.
How nice to see a smile on your faces. Enough chocolate mousse cake reverie for one afternoon. I must go to work, even on Sunday. And you … well since you remain relaxed in a dopamine-charged state of culinary excitement, I suggest that you take off your apron and write your own end to the fantasy.
Feel free to send them to me. I told the cakeman that we should create a contest, inspiring readers to sample chocolate mousse cakes and share their erotic findings.
Like any good lover, my days of doing all the work are numbered.
Kisses To All, Anne