A friend of mine lives in a wonderful Victorian house with a long and wide front porch. Last night was the first night we could all sit out and enjoy an evening without frostbite or gale force winds. Such are the vagaries of springtime weather when you live near Lake Michigan.
For almost six hours, their friends and
neighbors stopped by to chat and nibble on platters of fresh
vegetables, cheese of all kinds, fish salad, prosciutto [I'll check the
spelling later] with sliced pears, green and black olives, sweet and spicy sausage, you get the
drift. All washed down with a variety of extraordinary wines. Or in my
case, Target's house brand diet tea.
In the final hour a plate of sweets
and a huge tray of very large strawberries appeared. Along with
chocolate to dip them in.
A discussion of chocolate ensued.
Personally, and I'm not ashamed to admit this, I shop at Walgreen's.
Regardless of the medicinal value of dark chocolate, I have suddenly
developed a taste for the unhealthy milk chocolate version made by
Dove. They have huge plastic bags of the stuff in little foil wrapped
squares that serve to abate my frequent cravings during the day.
While admitting that Dove doesn't
do chocolate too badly, the other people present revealed an
encyclopedic knowledge of all things chocolate that left me cowering in
corner. Apparently I was sitting amongst a group of isomer junkies who
could 1] discourse on single
source availability and their countries of origin 2] confess to
intimacies with every esoteric, out of the way chocolatier in the
metropolitan area, and 3] toss off cocoa percentages like
Next time I'm going to steer the conversation to mustard. I can talk honey dijon and spicy horseradish with anyone.