Word of the Day: Xanthinophile

A xanthophile (from Greek xanthë, 'blonde') is someone who loves the colour yellow. (This should not be confused with 'xanthophyll', from a Greek word meaning 'leaf-yellow' and referring to the pigment in yellowish leaves). However, my WotD is 'xanthinophile', someone who loves xanthine-containing preparations.

A xanthine is one of a small group of alkaloid molecules which are naturally formed in the body. However, the methylxanthines are stimulants that block sleep signals and thus keep you alert; they include theobromine (in chocolate, cacao, cocoa), theophylline (in dark chocolate, tea), and caffeine (in coffee, tea). They alleviate asthma and, as a huge number of modern scientific studies show, are boosters for almost all aspects of human health and well-being (the old word was 'wealth', but that's been corrupted).

Xanthinophiles are therefore people who love coffee, tea and/or chocolate and other preparations that are chemically related to these.

Chocolate Truffles

I love chocolate truffles. I like the high percentage of real chocolate, the dusting of cocoa powder, the occasional spicing-up with some other compatible flavour. If I had the metabolism of a man half my age, I'd eat more of them.

But I remember the scandals of the past, in which horrible people with uncouth and disgusting ways adulterated their chocolate truffles with vegetable oil. I grimace at the thought, and beg the pardon of all those who just grimaced with me. Such an idea simply offends the sensibilities of the normal chocolate consumer, let alone someone who has his heart set on truffles.

It's like that with the various research targets that I've been looking at so far. Without naming names, I've seen a few that can be usefully seen through the lens of a chocolate-lover.

There's the one with the beautiful box touting liqueur-filled truffles, but which is a bit past its sell-by date. The contents are dry, the liqueur (if there ever was any) has left a ghost of its presence which might as well have been artificial flavouring. Fortunately, the quality of the chocolate is undoubtedly good, so despite the false advertising, you can still enjoy the base material.

There's the one which says it is chocolate-flavoured truffles. That particular line has already lowered your expectations, but forunately, they are being honest and if you imagine that what you are eating is not chocolate to begin with, then it tastes a lot better than not-chocolate and you don't mind that it tastes quite ordinary.

There's the one which comes with a nice package which doesn't quite say what's in the box. But you assume it must be something good, given the artist's impression. Inside, you find truffles. They smell like truffles and taste like truffles. The outside is dark, firm, smooth. You take your first bite, and it feels right. Then as the stuff melts on your tongue, you realise that it contains what is probably vegetable oil. It's too late to spit it out in polite company, so you are already committed. Smile, and say it isn't bad.

By the way, technically speaking, cocoa butter is indeed a vegetable fat. But it isn't a vegetable oil. Yuck. I am off to eat some good Euro-truffles from the age after the European Community did something to fix standards for chocolate. None of that terrible Hershey's or Van Houten for me, thank you very much.

Heresiarchs

And it came to pass that in the seventh month of the second year of Exile, that leaders of the Theobromine heresy made camp. On the place where they rested, they built a house of worship, and they called it Crf.

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I have been there, and I have seen it. And behold, my eyes were dazzled with the many temptations that could be found there. O, woe is me, that I have lived to see the sight!

Chocolate Sauce

There is something beautiful about atrament, the essence of darkness.

At most times, I equate it to black coffee, steaming gently and redolent of unnamed flowers and spices. Sometimes, though, most heretically and perhaps disloyally, I think of chocolate sauce; not the stuff of which Hershey made a fortune, but the true and black and deep and rich and silky liquid which one drizzles as a backdrop to dessert perfection.

These days, with the increasing availability of single-source chocolate, it is even possible to choose your kind of darkness.

The Theobromine Schism

The difference between caffeine and theobromine is one small group of atoms, a carbon and three hydrogen atoms, dangling like lost teenagers off the quayside. Caffeine has three of these boundary-breaking groups, theobromine ('food of the gods') and theophylline ('leaf of the gods') have only two, the rest of the molecular corpus remaining the same. And that is the difference between energetic chaos and relaxed comfort.

Two heaped tablespoons (that's perhaps four level tbsp if you're like me) of fine chocolate (Godiva, or failing which, Ghirardelli - which I find a little too sweet) should be gently transferred to a ceramic mug and stirred dry to ensure the powder is loose and does not clump. Stir in two light tablespoons of cold low-fat milk, whisking until it seems homogeneous (but of course, is not). The mixture should be a deep glossy brown in colour, and slightly frothy in texture, filling only the bottom one-fifth (or less, if you're greedy) of the mug. Very slowly, add a little warm milk and a lot more hot water until the mug is full. The froth should survive to the bittersweet end. Sugar should not be added at all. At all.

And thus can the determined heretic escape the strictures of orthodox caffeinism, cleave from his extra methylation, and reach a more rarified plane of existence.