There are three types of people in the world:
People who burn for chocolate, any chocolate
People who couldn’t be bothered with chocolate . . . at all
People who can only choke it down if it’s fine, divine chocolate fit only for royalty and humans of inhumanly superior virtue.
I fall into the latter category and tend toward the middle category.
As chocolate goes, I can take it or leave it, and usually leave it. Rarely, if ever do I crave it. When choosing a flavor of cake, I usually go straight for pie, fruit pie, NEVER CUSTARD OR PUDDING.
Ahh rhubarb, how do I love thee, let me count the ways . . .
I like my sweets to be a step above chocolate in their perfection.
I have found the exception to the rule. Actually, my totally clever and beautiful sister found the exception to the rule. There is a chocolatier in Vermont who makes a chocolate bar that is so freaking good; I do not want to know a world without it. These awesome folks run Laughing Moon Chocolates. I don’t know anything of their products beyond their Chipotle & Cinnamon Dark Chocolate bar. Do yourself a favor and order one, no matter what the cost to ship it to the far corners of this blue planet. When it arrives, open a lovely Merlot, have a bit of both, and wait to be overtaken by a bliss that words are too ham-fisted to describe. Seriously, it rivals dirty, filthy, sex that leaves you gasping and moaning out loud in public with the memory of it the next day.
You are welcome.