How my cleavage became dessert
Somewhere in the heart of Vendée, on an evening that smelled like pine and lavender, I sat at my cousin Hélène’s table. Hélène—a master in the kitchen, a sort of culinary sorceress who could coax joy out of the simplest ingredients—had outdone herself. We’d feasted on roasted meats, delicate vegetables, wine that kept appearing in our glasses like some bottomless miracle, and then, in the sweet lull of that post-dinner haze, she casually mentioned dessert.
I’d heard about the chocolate mousse, the legend of it, really. Hélène guarded the recipe like a state secret, refining it over the years until it was, in her words, “as close as humanly possible to perfection.” There was something reverent in the way she carried it out, set it down on the table like it was a gift to the gods. The mousse was dense, an almost black chocolate, its surface a pristine mirror.
When I took that first spoonful, it was as if every lousy store-bought chocolate I’d ever tasted vanished from memory. This was the real thing: bitter, dark, not too sweet. The texture was rich, almost custard-like, and it coated my tongue with a lingering creaminess that made my eyes close. I let it melt in my mouth, savouring it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious experiences. And then, eyes still closed, I asked Hélène, “Can I have seconds?”
She laughed, her voice full of warmth. Hélène was always delighted when people “got it,” when they understood the depth of something she’d spent years perfecting. But it was her husband, Mikael, who seemed the most thrilled by my enthusiasm. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe he just wanted to see a woman helpless in the face of his wife’s culinary prowess. But whatever the case, he grabbed the spoon, scooped a generous dollop, and leaned over to deliver the goods.
Now, it’s important to note, we were all just a little bit drunk. Not sloppy, not out of control, but that pleasant, buoyant kind of tipsy that makes everything funnier and loosens up the social rules. Mikael, bless his well-meaning heart, was overly excited and misjudged his reach. Time slowed down as I watched that spoon wobble in his hand, then dip, tilt, and land with a delicate, wet splat right in my cleavage. The mousse nestled between my collarbone like some absurd, chocolate garnish.
The whole table went silent for a second. Then the laughter started—first Hélène, then Mikael, then me, until we were all gasping for breath. My eyes watered from the absurdity of it, from the sheer hilarity of being draped in mousse in the middle of a family dinner. But it didn’t end there.
Because, in one of those moments that no sober person would ever think to act upon, Mikael—laughing so hard he was nearly in tears—leaned forward and scooped the mousse off my chest with a spoon, then gave up and just leaned in, retrieving the mousse directly. It was, in all honesty, one of the most bizarre and hilarious moments of my life. I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe, doubled over, barely able to look at Mikael without snorting. And as for Hélène, she was howling, red-faced, wiping tears from her cheeks.
It was pure, unfiltered joy—one of those bizarre, ridiculous moments that just lands in your lap like a gift from the universe, no explanation, no agenda. It was an evening where food, laughter, and love all got tangled up together in this silly, unforgettable mess. It was about the people around the table as much as the mousse itself, the sort of moment that’s impossible to recreate.
Years later, I still think about that night. I think about that mousse—rich and dark, a little bitter but smooth as velvet—and the laughter that made it all taste even sweeter. Hélène’s mousse wasn’t just dessert; it was a testament to everything that makes life worth living.
Secret family recipe alert! The decadent chocolate mousse
Ingredients
- 6 eggs separated
- 1 bar of cooking chocolate 200g I like to use dark chocolate but anything you prefer works!
- 90 g butter salted
- 50 g sugar
- any flavourings vanilla, rhum, orange, etc.
Instructions
- Separate the eggs (yolks in one bowl, whites in another)
- Whip the yellow yolks with the sugar until very light and fluffy.
- Melt chocolate with the butter in a bain marie or on very low heat. Cool to room temperature.
- Mix the yolk/sugar with the cooled chocolate/butter mixture.
- Whip egg whites until soft peaks form.
- Fold the chocolate/yolk mixutre into the whipped egg whites gently until uniform in colour.
- Refridgerate until set.
