When prompted, most folk of my generation remember with sudden but fleeting delight this particular 80s gem, the Pyramint: pointy dark chocolate infused with all the mystery of an impossibly colossal polyhedral crypt full of mint fondant. Well, much like King Tut rising from that sticky deathbed to bring back Pharoahic nostalgia to your very mouths, I have finally resurrected this chocolatey wonder of the ancient world.
3kg white sugar £2.40
800g Bournville chocolate £3.60
Green food colouring £0.80
Peppermint flavouring £1.00
Vanilla extract £1.00
280g liquid glucose (not an easy find) £4.00
1 Ltr double cream (not pictured, acquired later when it all went wrong) £3.00
Tanqueray for morale. The going got tough.
One outer pyramid of card laminated on the inside to hold the hot melted choccy, and a slightly smaller one of the same proportions laminated on the outside to push the mush into shape, with reinforced handles for pushing and pulling
All the melted Bournville is poured into the mould…
…and pushed expertly into the shape of Rameses’ bedroom.
Lovely. Revel in my geometric goodness. Now make a quick 0.5 cm thick square to act as a base.
Right, here’s where the fun started with fondant. Hot sugar, with glucose, mint flavouring, vanilla extract and green stuff. I tried every proportion of ingredient and every level of temperature, but…..
…whilst looking tantalisingly like the long-awaited return of Khefren’s soggy sarcophagus for five majestic minutes, it then set hard every time. It was enough to make me want to pull my brain out of my nose with tiny hooks and stick preservative herbs up my bum. Here is a scale model of the capstone from the Great Pyramid of Cheops I specially commissioned for fondant test purposes.
One litre of partially-whipped double cream to the rescue, mixed with a still-liquid batch of the more authentic-looking proto-fondant. Nice. Anubis will be pleased.
Time to put Mr Dixon’s (pronounced “Mithter Dickthon’th”) grade ten trigonometric tomfoolery to the test, along with a canopic jar full of Photoshop. The first tiny photo in this sequence is literally the only pic I had to go on, so I wasn’t exactly able to blow it up â€“ I had to make the entire 25cm-sided photographic paper wrapping by hand-drawn pixel. There went the weekend.
Pint glass for scale. Ta-da !
It’s almost all over, and although the internal texture is not authentic by the time this was taken 48hrs later, my hawk-headed friend Horus is over the moon. Though sadly his mother was eaten by a celestial crocodile after mating with the Sun, or some similar hieroglyphic jiggerypokery.