I have a known disorder, of which I am well aware. I am a cookbook whore, to put not too fine a point on it. Gorgeous food photography? I'm in! Witty and helpful recipe introductions? Better than a novel! I've been known to read a cookbook cover to cover on more than one occasion. (Dorie Greenspan's books all read so beautifully and fluidly, I dare you to NOT get sucked in!)
I will not confess to the number currently residing on bookshelves at my house, but suffice it to say that I am awash in choices when it comes to making a meal. This doesn't mean that when I'm about to have people over for dinner I don't stare blankly around, shrieking, "I have nothing to MAKE!", though. I have similar issues with clothes and shoes. Likely these will all appear when the DSM V is published, and I will be able to follow an approved treatment protocol.
What I'm getting at here is that there are often many recipes for the same basic dish, with tweaks, flourishes and alterations that make them unique, while still remaining, oh, a roast chicken, or chocolate cake. (When restaurants go bonkers about this sort of thing is when you start seeing menu items like Cassis Infused Dark Chocolate Torte with Blackberry Coulis and House Made Vanilla Bean Semifreddo. That's when you should just leave, as the pretension is going to be expensive.) In the multitudes of cookbooks that loll about my house, there are, at bare minimum, six different recipes for chocolate pots de creme. Which, as it's Bastille Day and I'm feeling very French, means little chocolate cream pots. And they are all, I'm sure, unctuous and luscious and divine. However, each one is, to be blunt, a raging pain in the ass to make. Double boilers are involved. Baine maries are necessary. (Hot water baths in which to bake things, which I inevitably dump all over the floor. This results in a very clean floor and some not insignificant scalding. You win some, you lose some.) But pots de cremes are so lovely that you suffer through these things in order to present them to your duly dazzled dinner guests.
However, I am here to tell you that there is a way, a very secret way, to make this the easiest dessert in your repertoire. Easier than brownies from a box. Easier than going out and buying a pie. Slightly more complex than handing people Fudgsicles, but only just. If you own one small pot and a blender, you're in. And the ingredients are ones you can get at 7-11, if you must. This recipe comes to me from my mother, by way of her mother, so is a fine family tradition. I've played with it a very tiny bit, but just because I'm always looking for a way to include booze in everything (except Cheerios. I think that would be problematic and career limiting.). One of my culinary rules is that if a recipe involving chocolate also calls for vanilla extract, use bourbon instead. This is good for two reasons; bourbon and chocolate are an incredible team, and it's a good way to use that godawful Jim Beam you have kicking around. Drum roll, please...
Chocolate pots de Creme
1 tsp vanilla extract (Or bourbon. Draw inspiration from your liquor cabinet...there is likely something in there that will be delicious with chocolate. Kahlua! Grand Marnier! Amaretto! Go nuts.)
1 cup semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chips
2 tbsp sugar
3/4 cup milk, heated to just below boiling.
Put all ingredients in blender at once, and blend on low speed for one minute, or until smooth and slightly frothy. Divide liquid equally between four ramekins/custard cups. Chill several hours before serving. Top with whipped cream, fresh fruit, more booze, etc, etc.
Due to the presence of a raw egg, do NOT double this recipe. It is the heat of the scalded milk that renders the egg safely "cooked". If you need more than 4 servings, just repeat the process.
See! How easy was that!