Choccy Treats

Good chocolates, who needs ‘em? I do, but not at Christmas.

We’ve eaten our share of lofty chocolate over this holiday. Michel Cluizel from Paris, oui, fantastique. B. Castellain (Macaibo and Coffee-flavored), Bonnat and (if you get real lucky) Utopia are all merveilleux. The spicy, chili flavored Vosges bars are amazing. Our son introduced us to Alma chocolate, out of Portland, endearingly shaped into squirrels and owls. Delish. Hell, even Trader Joe’s has Vahlrona Noir Amer and even sometimes 70% Ecuadorian and/or Venezuelan chocolate bars by Chocovic…for a great price.

But at Christmastime, when I drape my home with yard after yard of tack, my taste buds search the familiar. Quality Street…I bought you in England and hauled your sweetness westwards to my Canyon and then gluttony forced me to hide you somewhere in this not-so-vast house in September when I couldn't stop plunging my hand into your jolly, foil-wrapped tin of excess. And now Christmas and New Year’s have done their thing, my tree droops ever more, pinging needles and tinsel across the floor every time the slightest of breezes hits it, and I can’t fucking find you. Quality Street, where are you? Talk to me. Give me a clue. Quickly. My family is beginning to suspect I ate the whole tin.