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Archive for October 21st, 2008

Today’s Twitters

  • 12:39 @gypsygrrl ((((((hugs))))))) sorry you’re having an alone-feeling day, and hope it gets a lot better. #

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It’s reeeeeeaaaaaallllllyyyyyy late. I’ve taken all my meds, and am a little loopy. And since I gave you all a post about one of the most disgusting foods I’ve ever tasted, I thought I’d share some thoughts on the delicious food known as chocolate.

When I was a little girl, I demanded chocolate formula. I believed that chocolate milk came from brown cows. I ate anything chocolate I could find. I once believed that Tootsie Rolls were chocolate (now I know that they’re produced from the poop of the little cow-shaped pitchers when they’re filled with chocolate milk, but that’s another story.) (Yes, vanilla midgees: poop when the pitcher had white milk; and we’re not talking about those fruit flavoured thingies.)

I grew a little older and learned that M&M’s absolutely melt in your hand if you’re enough of a fool not to throw them into your mouth.

I learned that if you have an iron will, a Hershey kiss will melt into a warm melty goo in your mouth, and it’s better than just eating the kiss.

One of my friends during my not-brief-enough sojourn in Minneapolis introduced me to the joys of cream cheese spread on Ritz crackers.  I forgave her, though, because she also made hot chocolate thusly: (1) Heat up some whole milk in the microwave (2) put the instant cocoa mix in the mug (3) Stir in the hot whole milk until the cocoa mix has dissolved (4) Throw in a handful (or 3) of M&M’s and stir. They won’t melt entirely, but you just go right ahead and drink your cocoa (there will be a use for the sludge). (5) Spoon out the warm slightly gritty M&M sludge and put a schmear on the cream-cheese-spread Ritz cracker. (If you want to try this experiment, you’ll need one sleeve of Ritz crackers, a tub of cream cheese, whole milk, instant cocoa mix, M&M’s, and a strong stomach. I assume no liability should you choose to try this at home.)

Boxes of assorted chocolates always carried the risk of the dreaded orange cream. I got to be pretty good at detecting the cremes, but I had to be careful. If I gave what I was positive was an orange cream to my brother, it would inevitably be the chocolate cream or–worse–the coconut cream, which I love, and I’d still have the stinky orange cream somewhere in the box.

Then I discovered Whitman’s Samplers. They graciously provide a key to the contents within. You can eat whatever you want in what order you want, and I don’t think they have orange creams anymore.

I found See’s while I was living in Salt Lake City. See’s is good. See’s has the dark chocolate lemon truffle of life. (If you need an in with the incomparable Izzybella, this is her favourite.)

I got married, and one of the benefits is a trip to Antoinette’s whenever we go to Buffalo. Antoinette’s has dang good chocolate. Joe knows never to go to Buffalo and come home without a box of chocolate from Antoinette’s.

A message board I was on was conducting a survey: (1)state your gender (2) do you randomly squirt some chocolate syrup into your mouth when you open the refrigerator? You’re already seeing where this is leading, right? If I’m recalling correctly, the women said, “of course,” and the men were baffled. I mentioned it to my husband, who was astounded to find out that fact. I only know one woman who genuinely dislikes chocolate. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that all my female friends do that. It’s like having a moment where you get to slow down (you can’t just swallow that cold chocolate syrup–gotta let it warm up and savour the taste) followed by an energy boost.

I corrected the grammar on a brochure for the store when I was at Rocky Mountain Chocolates in Salt Lake City. I’ve bought white chocolate covered dog biscuits for Molly for Christmas.

Early in my marriage, one of the families my husband met while on his mission in Belgium actually moved into our apartment complex. They reconnected and our families grew close. While Joe and Omer reminisced about Belgium, the subject invariably turned to chocolate. I’d gotten sophisticated and knew from Lindt, but I never knew Belgium had a reputation for making chocolate. So Omer had to make a trip home, and went to Joe’s favourite chocolate shop to bring me a box of fresh Belgian chocolates.

One summer Joe and I went to the Baseball Museum and Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. We met up with one of my dearest friends (hi, Michele!), and when we were done at the museum we found ourselves at a festival celebrating Belgium. I got to taste some frites, but more importantly, I was given a few bars of Cote d’Or chocolat. For the next few years, Cote d’Or chocolat became my obsession.

I was in the mall a couple of years ago, and went into the Godiva store to buy a truffle. They were having a giveaway, sign up to win a year’s supply of chocolate. I entered. I’d barely gotten home before they were calling me. Now a year’s supply of chocolate in my opinion is not what they called a year’s supply of chocolate.  Nonetheless, my family and friends and I enjoyed some good chocolate that year.

Once in a while Joe brings me bags of chocolate covered dried cherries from Harry & David. Oh, those things are evil. I can eat those until I’m sick. They smell so good, and the chocolate is thick and rich.

And speaking of once in a while, every now and again I have to go get a bag of bridge mix in honour of Dad Farber. And because I like it, okay, I’ll admit it. I like bridge mix. What’s not to like? Peanuts, raisins, malted milk balls, round soft caramels, and peanutbuttery crunch all enrobed in chocolate. Okay, I don’t like those hard jellylike ones that I sometimes mistake for caramels, but they’re easy to spit out. Bridge mix isn’t high class, isn’t sophisticated, isn’t necessarily all that good. I like it for the memories. I miss my Dad Farber.

Now that Joe’s going all over the country for work, he frequently brings home treats for me. The last time he was in San Francisco, he brought me a loaf of sourdough bread. He also brought home some ghirardelli chocolates but he ate them. Shame.

But he’s been forgiven. He was in LaCrosse, Wisconsin last week. Now I don’t know much of what is in LaCrosse, but I do know this: the best chocolate I’ve had since that Belgium chocolate came from the Pearl Ice Cream Parlor at 207 Pearl Street. It was a beautiful thing. I ate it slowly, savoured every delectable morsel and aroma.

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