Teetering on the edge.

I purchased that little beauty of a double boiler two years ago. In need of a good polishing and a good home and very much in need of having the $10.00 price tag removed from her lid. I could FEEL her indignation. Just for surviving the past sixty years so unscathed made her worth much more.
She has sat, patiently waiting to be called into service close to a thousand days. Perhaps years longer.
Monday morning I went about my business making Parmesan rounds, meringues and chocolate Babycakes. All was well until the melted chocolate for the frosting hit the cold metal bowl of the mixer.
It was not pretty. Sure, I could call it chocolate chip icing, but it still would not be pretty.
Okay, little princess, it is time to show me what you can do. All the chunks and the few remaining soft spoonfuls of butter, egg yolk and dark chocolate were tentatively plopped into the smooth porcelain bowl of my little gem. Over the underneath pot of water and low heat I stirred for an eternity. I didn't think it was possible to get the contents hot enough to melt the unwanted chunks of chocolate and not curdle the egg yolk. Slow but sure, we did it, such a silken chocolate mixture I have never seen. Chocolate satin, to which I added vanilla, sea salt and cognac. Wonderful became magnificent!
Not wanting to chance any form of hardening before icing those little cakes I gently dipped each cake into the luscious mix. Being so very careful not to hit the rim of the cupcake paper because that would, well, just be sloppy.
Each one looked like a little chocolate lake. So Smooth. Hmmm, in need of a little gilding. These babies were way to elegant to be sprinkled. So instead, I made my version of chocolate lace, smattering it with silver dragees and hot pink nonpareils. A fine Jackson Pollack moment. That man must have had a lot of fun.
Once hardened and shattered each Babycake was crowned with a piece and placed in rows to curtsy to their copper Queen.

P.S. There was just enough cognac left in the bottle for the perfect "What would Julia do, moment".
PPS. Later that night, Husband, "Not enough sugar and too much salt."
Me, "too bad."