Last month, when I did a mail-order experiment (password = “yum”), many people requested vegan Terffles. Recently I created a successful ganache using coconut cream instead of the dairy variety, so I decided to buy some expensive specialty ingredients to make a 100% vegan batch of Amaretto Amarena Cherries and C3 Spice, the most popular Terffle flavors.
Amaretto Amarena Cherry
Vegan dark chocolate is easy enough to find; Trader Joe’s 72% Dark suffices. White chocolate, with which I make the Amaretto ganache, is harder to find in vegan form, but not impossible. There are many vegan “white” “baking chips” but most are made with palm kernel oil, not cocoa butter. I ordered Pascha “Organic White Rice Chocolate Baking Chips” which do contain cocoa butter, but haven’t tried them yet. I also ordered a bag of straight-up cocoa butter, figuring I could adjust my ganache recipe and let the coconut cream, almonds, and sugar make up for the missing milk and sugar in the product itself.
Carefully measuring cocoa butter
Everything was going along fine…
Roasting blanched slivered almonds
…until I absent-mindedly mis-measured the coconut cream and Amaretto, accidentally doubling them. Whoops! Soon I was doing seat-of-the-pants cooking-by-taste (don’t worry, I never double-dip tasting spoons, I am after all a Certified Food Handler) while creating a mess:
The resulting ganache is now chilling in the fridge, and I hope to form it around Amarena cherries later tonight.
The C3 Spice ganache will be made with coconut cream and 72% Dark chocolate, but it needs something resembling milk chocolate for the coating. This was very hard to find. I eventually settled/splurged on a kilogram of Valrhona Amatika 46% Single Origin Almond Milk Chocolate, which arrived today:
It cost over 4 times the very good Aldi milk chocolate I usually use. Is it good? Yes. Have I had better? Also yes. But it’s better than cheap American Milk Chocolate, and really is quite good for what it is.
I actually think just a tiny bit of salt would improve the taste, so I will add some when I melt it for coating, along with freshly-ground cardamom.
Less awesome chocolatiers than myself would skip the pure cocoa butter and use palm kernel oil instead. They would also use dark chocolate even to coat a dark chocolate ganache, caring nothing about balance as long as it’s vegan. But I am not a less awesome chocolatier, I am my awesome self, and life is too short to eat mediocre chocolate. Even if it’s vegan.
Stay tuned.
Update March 20 2026: First batch of vegan terffles NOT AS GOOD as non-vegan ones. Taste too much like health food. I’m finding cocoa butter weird to work with. May have to re-do it from scratch.
People assure me AI art is “soulless,” that unlike human artists AI can’t be “original.” It can only copy. This reflects a widespread misunderstanding of how human artists work: we copy, and there’s no such thing as “original.” I understood this 16 years ago.
We draw from more or less the same pool of culture that AI does, only our pools are necessarily smaller as humans simply don’t have the capacity for exposure to as much stuff. No matter, because all works carry the influences and language — be it verbal, visual, or musical — as the works around them. You don’t need to see every painting to get the styles and grammar of its time and place, just as you don’t need to hear every English speaker alive to learn English. But AI can read, see, and hear vastly more cultural artifacts than any individual artist can, making it capable of a much broader stylistic range.
What about Intention? The intention comes from the human prompter. All that AI art is prompted by someone; that’s its intention. Is that its Soul? No, its soul is the soul of human culture, that vast pool of source material it draws from and imitates. The same one humans draw from and imitate. Humans aren’t individual geniuses, we are imitators. Our “genius” lies in our shared* culture, and our skill in copying.
This is why I don’t hate AI, but marvel as it shakes the ground beneath my feet and blows apart my orientation to culture and my fellow human beings. Those who hate it believe in the myth of originality and think copying is theft. They were delusional 16 years ago when I freed Sita Sings the Blues, and they’re delusional now. Delusionality is part of shared human culture too, and AI will imitate, remix, and regurgitate it just like we do, only much faster and more efficiently.
When I was younger, art skills were meaningful and important. Filmmaking was too expensive for any but the elite; there was more demand than supply of “media.” Animation was drawn by hand, every frame. Even a short animated film required money in digits that blew my mind, and whole teams of “talent” and managers.
So when I figured out how to make animated movies on my own, I suddenly advanced to elite status. I could do for little money, by myself, what many huge overfunded studios couldn’t achieve. And before that, I drew. When my work made it to print, I got thrills such as I never experience today. When my first T-shirt design, “Leal School is high class,” was chosen for silkscreening, I nearly peed my pants. When my first comic strip was printed in the Daily Illini newspaper, I secreted more adrenaline than I could handle.
Less creative excitement comes to me these days. I did make my first round of “Recovery Gloves” this summer, and I was extremely excited to put the first ones on my hands and photograph them. I guess I still care, a bit.
“Recovery Gloves”
The big change since my youth is that supply of “content” vastly exceeds demand. More writing, more art, more videos and music are made than anyone can consume. This has been enabled by tech, from “desktop publishing” (remember when it was unimaginably revolutionary?), to digital video editing, to phones — phones! — able to capture high-res everything, to AI.
The Attention Economy was coined a while ago and continues to be useful. Is my attention now a more valuable asset than my ability to create? Is that why I feel like I create so much less now? AI produces higher quality work than most humans. So what are we even for? Do robots even need human attention, or can they attend to themselves?
I am still a human being with a voice. I make art when I think something needs to exist in this world, and the only person who can make it so is me. Hence the gloves. Hence Sita Sings the Blues.
But plenty of other stuff can and does come into being without me. Pretty pictures don’t need me to exist. Articles don’t need me. Well, this one does, but it’s not that great. I’m not writing this to meet any demand, I’m writing it because my thoughts are bothering me and I’m trying to sort them out. That’s about the only thing that differentiates humans from AI right now, and maybe even that distinction will vanish.
Me: You are an artist experiencing a creative block. You feel you were more creative 20 years ago, before the Internet and AI. Write an article exploring why recent advances in technology may have suppressed your creative drive.
ChatGPT:
The Tech Trap: How Internet and AI Innovations Have Stifled My Creative Spirit
As an artist, creativity is both my passion and my lifeblood. Yet, recently, I have found myself grappling with a persistent creative block. Reflecting on my artistic journey, I realize that I felt more creatively fulfilled 20 years ago, before the pervasive rise of the internet and artificial intelligence (AI). While these technological advancements have brought about tremendous benefits, they have also introduced challenges that can stifle the creative spirit.
The Overload of Information
One of the most profound changes brought about by the internet is the sheer volume of information available at our fingertips. Twenty years ago, inspiration was drawn from tangible experiences—visiting art galleries, reading books, and engaging in deep conversations. Today, the endless stream of online content can be overwhelming. The constant barrage of images, videos, and articles can dilute one’s unique artistic voice, leading to a sense of creative paralysis rather than inspiration.
The Pressure of Digital Perfection
The internet, coupled with AI, has created a culture of digital perfection. Social media platforms showcase polished, picture-perfect versions of art, often enhanced by AI tools. This can create unrealistic standards for artists, leading to self-doubt and a fear of not measuring up. Twenty years ago, the artistic process was more forgiving, allowing for mistakes and imperfections that were integral to growth and creativity. Now, the pressure to produce flawless work can inhibit the experimental and exploratory nature of art.
The Erosion of Deep Work
In the pre-internet and pre-AI era, creative work was often a solitary and deeply immersive process. Artists could lose themselves in their work without the distractions of notifications, emails, and social media. Today, the digital age has fragmented our attention spans, making it difficult to achieve the deep focus necessary for true creativity. The constant interruptions and the temptation to check our devices can prevent us from entering the state of flow where the most profound creative insights occur.
The Homogenization of Art
AI, with its reliance on vast datasets, tends to produce content that mirrors existing trends and styles. While this can lead to interesting combinations, it can also result in a homogenization of artistic expression. Twenty years ago, artists drew inspiration from a wide range of sources, leading to a diverse array of styles and perspectives. Now, the risk is that AI-generated art, based on similar datasets, may lack the originality and diversity that come from human experience and intuition.
The Shift from Creation to Curation
The digital age has shifted the focus from creation to curation. Artists now spend a significant amount of time curating their online presence, managing social media profiles, and engaging with their audience. While this has its benefits, it can detract from the actual process of creating art. Twenty years ago, artists could dedicate their time and energy solely to their craft without the distraction of maintaining an online persona.
The Devaluation of Effort and Skill
With AI’s ability to produce art quickly and effortlessly, there is a growing perception that artistic creation is less valuable if it can be replicated by a machine. This shift can be demoralizing for artists who invest considerable effort and skill into their work. Twenty years ago, the value of art was closely tied to the artist’s dedication and the unique human touch that went into each piece. Today, the line between human and machine-made art is increasingly blurred, leading to questions about the true value of artistic effort.
Finding a Balance in the Digital Age
Despite these challenges, it is possible to find a balance that allows for the preservation of deep, meaningful creativity. Here are some strategies for navigating the modern artistic landscape:
Digital Detox: Regularly disconnecting from the internet can help reclaim uninterrupted time for creativity. This can involve setting aside specific hours or days where digital devices are put aside to focus solely on artistic work.
Mindful Consumption: Being selective about the content consumed online can reduce overwhelm and allow for more profound inspiration. Curating a digital diet that includes high-quality, diverse sources of inspiration can help maintain a unique artistic voice.
Embrace Imperfection: Recognize that mistakes and imperfections are a natural part of the creative process. Allowing for experimentation and accepting that not every piece needs to be perfect can foster a more open and innovative approach to art.
Seek Offline Inspiration: Continue to engage with the physical world—visit galleries, attend workshops, and have face-to-face interactions with other artists. These experiences can provide fresh perspectives and break the cycle of digital dependency.
Integrate Technology Thoughtfully: Use AI and digital tools to augment rather than replace the creative process. Embrace technology as a collaborator that can enhance creativity without overshadowing the human touch.
In conclusion, while the internet and AI have transformed the creative landscape in many ways, it is essential to navigate these changes thoughtfully. By finding a balance and reclaiming some of the practices from the pre-digital era, artists can overcome creative blocks and reignite the artistic spark that once burned so brightly.
Dave was hella funny and brilliantly creative and kinda nuts, with a good heart that just stopped January 11, 2024. We both had comic strips in the Daily Illini in the late 1980’s; his, “Bob ‘n’ Dave,” was clever, hilarious, gonzo, and unpretentiously deep. Much later, as the Duke of Uke, he made “Spider Suite” which I used in my film Seder-Masochism. His was the absolutely perfect voice of Death, and if there is an afterlife I hope he’s simultaneously entertaining and scaring the pants off any souls he meets.
GENDER WARS Playing Cards were a hit of 2023, and I intended to make a 2024 edition. But recent schisms in the gender world have put me off, so I’m pivoting. I got into the gender mess because of my interest in Free Speech, and would rather focus on this subject. Therefore, I request your nominations for CANCEL CULTURE Playing Cards:
