The Sandpoint Eater: My choice is chocolate

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

There are moments when the world feels too loud to recognize. Lately, for me, politics has been one of those things. The elections left me carrying a heaviness like a fog that won’t lift, as though all flights have been canceled and no clear destination remains. It’s a mix of disappointment, uncertainty and exhaustion that seems to linger in conversations everywhere I go.

Luckily, I’ve been traveling a great deal lately, and movement helps. New scenery helps. Airports, train stations, unfamiliar languages, bustling markets, tiny cafés tucked down cobblestone alleys — all of it offers a temporary reprieve from the relentless churn of headlines and commentary here at home.

What has surprised me most during my recent travels is how aware the rest of the world is of America’s emotional climate. Everywhere I’ve gone, especially during last month’s trip to Ireland, people ask questions. In elegant hotel lounges and dark-paneled pubs, strangers quietly ask what is happening in the United States. They wonder where we are headed, as do I.

Many clients confess they feel anxious about traveling abroad, uncertain how Americans are perceived. Even fellow Americans I’ve encountered overseas speak wistfully about starting over somewhere else. More than one conversation has drifted toward the possibility of dual citizenship and expatriate dreams.

It seems everyone is searching for solid ground and steadiness.

My own family conversations have reflected that longing. My youngest daughter, Casey, and her family are currently in Egypt attending a family wedding. Her husband John’s family emigrated from Egypt years ago, and now, in an unexpected turn, his mother, Mirfat, is considering renewing her Egyptian citizenship while they are there.

It’s a different America than the one I see in the framed photograph of Mirfat and her late-husband, Samih, displayed on a wall in Casey’s home. In the photo, the young couple waves American flags, celebrating their new citizenship and anticipating the opportunities ahead. Now I listen to younger generations contemplating futures that may stretch beyond American borders. It feels surreal, yet strangely understandable all at once.

As for me, I’ve found myself exploring the possibility of Canadian or Irish citizenship. My grandparents emigrated from Ireland by way of Canada before eventually settling in the U.S. There is something comforting about tracing family roots backward during uncertain times, as though history itself might offer direction. Maybe it’s less about leaving and more about remembering where so many of us — proud descendants of immigrants — first began.

Still, no matter how much I love traveling, no matter how complicated the world feels, I always find myself returning to the same sanctuary: my kitchen.

Cooking has always been my grounding force. There is reassurance in the ritual of chopping onions, kneading dough or whisking cream. Planning meals occupies the anxious corners of my mind. Stirring sauces and folding batter gives my hands purpose. Serving people I love reminds me that comfort can still be created, one morsel at a time.

And of course, there is eating — humankind’s most universal form of comfort.

For me, one ingredient rises above all others: chocolate. Whether dark, bittersweet or semisweet, chocolate transcends borders and politics. It belongs equally in Parisian pâtisseries, Belgian chocolate shops, American birthday cakes and Egyptian desserts scented with cardamom and honey. Chocolate is memory, celebration, consolation and joy all wrapped into one glorious indulgence.

Next week, I’ll happily immerse myself in it because I’m taking my baking protégé granddaughter, Mikey, to Paris. It’s her well-earned high school graduation gift and I can hardly wait. We’ll spend our days wandering through pastry shops and cafés, filling our eyes and bellies with every chocolate treasure we can find: flaky pain au chocolat leaving buttery shards behind with every bite, delicate financiers, elegant tortes displayed like artwork, rich Belgian truffles tucked into ribboned boxes, and my personal favorite — silky chocolate mousse.

The timing feels perfect because this fall Mikey will begin a baking and pastry program in Spokane. Having her nearby feels wonderfully serendipitous. Originally, she had planned to attend a program in North Dakota, much closer to her dad and their eastern Montana home, but sadly the program was canceled due to budget cuts. Funny how life rearranges itself. Sometimes disappointment quietly redirects us toward something even better.

Now, with me in Sandpoint and her aunties in Spokane and Moscow, she’ll be surrounded by family while she chases her dream of opening her own bakery. I find myself dreaming right alongside her, with late-night conversations about a location, business name, menus and logos.  

Dreams can sweeten and soften sharp edges, if only briefly. In times of upheaval, perhaps that is enough. We cannot always control elections, economies or world affairs. We cannot predict where our children may eventually call home. But we can gather in kitchens. We can feed one another. We can create moments of warmth amid uncertainty.

Sometimes the answer to a troubled heart is simply a bite of something really delicious. And no matter what the world is doing, chocolate can still make things better. I recommend starting with this decadent mousse!

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Decadent chocolate mousse

This dessert is one of my most requested recipes. There are not many ingredients and it’s worth the effort. Make at least four hours in advance. Yields 4-8 portions, depending on the size of your serving dishes. I recommend small stemmed parfait, coupe glasses or espresso cups.