Monthly Archives: June 2010

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

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The past few chocolates reviewed on this blog have been more about additions  and intrigue than the quality of the chocolate itself. As you should know by now, I’m no single-origin-only-artisanal-get-that-extraneous-object-away-from-my-cacao snob. Curry and milk chocolate? Why not? Salt and Pepper dark chocolate? Absolutely. I’m an equal-opportunity chocolate fiend. Or friend. Friendly fiend? No matter. I’m sure you catch my drift. My rambling, easily distracted drift. Ooh, hang on a tick, I think I just saw something sparkly out of the corner of my eye…

Where was I? Ah, yes. I was talking about how I’m generally open to a range of different chocolate experiences. Well, folks, I’m here to tell you that sometimes it pays to be a chocolate snob. For, as the old saying goes, Discerning Means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry [You Ate That].

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch

There is one word that encapsulates everything you need know about this chocolate. That word is sweet. Sweeeeeeeeeeeet. And not sweet in the “I just found a twenty dollar note on the pavement… sweet” way. Sweet in the “oh-holy-bucket-I-need-a-glass-of-water-and-a-packet-of-salt-and-vinegar-chips” way. In fact, this chocolate is so sweet that I was moved to write an acrostic about it:

So full of saccharine that it gives me the
Willies, because
Even the purported “dark”-ness of the chocolate is
Evidently a misnomer. Dear Cadbury,
Toffee was not your cleverest addition to an already cloying chocolate.

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

My tasting notes attest to how hard I struggled to pinpoint any flavour complexities in this chocolate. I thought the aroma was a bit like the patty-case toffees sold at school fetes… then I realised that such toffees are made of nothing but sugar and water. Then I thought that the chocolate itself had some honey notes… but really it was just burningly sweet.

Admittedly, the toffee parts reminded me of Crunchie bars… but Crunchies are, in all honesty, little else but sweet. This Cadbury Toffee Crunch bar didn’t even have discernible cocoa notes. Do you know what notes it did have?

Yep. Sugar notes. Sharp, sharp, sharp and unceasing sugar notes.

And do you want to know the most upsetting part about this chocolate and its unrelenting assault of sweet on my palate?

It led me to write an acrostic poem. An acrostic poem. The worst kind of poem there is.

I’m a broken shell of a woman.

Kale and Seaweed Salad of Scrumptiousness

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Don’t look at me like that. There’s no need for sceptical looks and raised eyebrows. And hey, you in the back there! Yes, you, hiding behind the famous food blogger from Sydney. Close your mouth. Are you trying to swallow a fly?

I know it’s hard to believe, but you needn’t act quite so incredulous. Is it really such a stretch to conceive that I occasionally cook and eat foods that aren’t comprised of a) cocoa butter, b) peanut butter, or c) a combination of cocoa butter and peanut butter? Really, my fabulous readers, you should try to be a bit more open-minded. No one likes a Cynical Cindy.

Arame

Bright and early last Saturday morning, I bounced out of bed so that I could join my housemate in a foray to Canberra’s farmers market. Having never been before, I was filled to the brim with elation at my Ethical Local Supportiveness and my Early Morning Dedication and my Budget Consciousness.

One day, I’d love to photograph and showcase these markets in detail. There really was an amazing range of not only fruits, veggies, and flowers, but breads and cakes and fudge and chocolate and macarons and pies and pickles and pizzas and pastries and so on and so forth. (One of those was a lie. A hint: it was the pickles. I wish the markets sold pickles, though. I could even go a pickle right now. [It’s 11pm.])

Kale and Arame Seaweed Salad

There was one moment at the markets where I showed my true food-lovin’ self. It was when I spotted a bunch of kale and, while clapping my hands in glee, called out “I found kale! I found kale!” to my housemate. (She’s used to me by now.)

I pounced on said kale without a moment’s thought. It wasn’t until we got home that I started to laugh at myself. Trust me to go to the markets with Budget Consciousness in mind and end up buying the most expensive produce there. Still, it was worth it.

I was originally going to make the kale chips that have taken the (American) blog world by storm, but then I figured that if I made chips I’d eat the entire bunch in one go, whereas if I made something else with the kale, then the bunch would last longer.

This ended up being a moot point, as the salad I made was so divinely good that I ate it all at once. (It was meant to serve four.) But as I ate it with a super-duper heavy dense rye sourdough roll, I figure it was a Pretty Darn Acceptable and Healthy Meal.

Kale and Arame Seaweed Salad

Let’s play How Many Things Can We Spot In The Background! My rye roll, my scrabble mug, a jug with a dancing lady on it…

Kale and Seaweed Salad of Scrumptiousness 

Serves four as a side, or, erm, just me. Adapted from here and here.

• 10g arame
• 1 bunch of kale, large stems removed, washed and dried (for me, this was about 180g, but I have no idea what a standard bunch of kale weighs)
• 1 tb soy sauce
• 1 tb rice wine vinegar
• ½-1 tb sesame oil, depending on how much you love sesame oil
• 1 clove garlic, crushed
• 1-2 tsps freshly minced garlic
• couple of pinches of chilli flakes (optional, but for me dinner isn’t dinner without chilli)

1. Place arame in a large bowl (arame expands a fair amount) and cover with hot water. Soak for 15-20 minutes, then drain.
2. Chop kale into 1cm slices (mine was a bit more rough-n-ready than this, so really just chop it how you see fit.) Put in a steamer basket over a pan of simmering water and steam, covered, for 5 minutes. Remove from heat.
3. In a large bowl, whisk together soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, sesame oil, garlic, ginger, and chilli. Taste and adjust as you see fit. For me, this was the perfect blend, but you may like a stronger soy or sesame flavour. My housemate also thought a hint of sweetness might be nice – maybe a teaspoon of honey/maple syrup/palm sugar, if you’re similarly inclined?
4. Add the arame and kale, and toss. You could serve this straight away, but I found that letting it sit for a few hours in the fridge helped the flavours blend and sing.
5. Serve and enjoy. Oh, how I enjoyed. I wish kale was more accessible in Australia… I could happily eat this every day. (With a pickle. Mmm. Pickles.)

 

Lindt White Chocolate with Roasted Almonds and Almond Brittle

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Some days, I’m all about the thrill of the new. Sure, most of the chocolates in my post-travel stash are technically new, seeing as I haven’t opened them, but they’ve been in my company for so long that they feel familiar. Imagine you work at a coffee shop patronised by regular customers. Then imagine it’s a spring-time Saturday, and you’re bopping away to a free concert at the Botanical Gardens. Suddenly, you spot one of the regular [coffee] customers, and you start smiling as if you’re great friends. But, of course, you quickly remember that you don’t know each other at all. Imagine that sense of the banal-known-yet-actually-unknown. I feel that way about some of my long-stashed chocolates.

So it was with an unjustified (in terms of my usual dark-leaning tastes) amount of glee that I discovered, via the stupendous Kath, that Lindt has recently released four new chocolates to the Australian market.

Of these four, one piqued my interest. (Plain milk, milk with whole hazelnuts, and milk fruit and nut – I abjure you*.)

Lindt Swiss Gold White Chocolate with Almonds

Lindt Swiss Gold White Chocolate with Almonds

I realise that I’ve only blogged one other white chocolate here so far: the wondrous Vestri’s White Chocolate with Pistachios. I’m not anti-white chocolate on principle, but there simply aren’t enough quality (or bizarrely-flavoured) white chocolates out there for me to do tasty, tasty battle with. (That said, El Rey’s Icoa, Askinosie’s whites, and Vosges’ d’Olivia are well worth going a round or two with.)

If Lindt’s white chocolate had merely incorporated whole almonds, I would have said thanks but no thanks. Plain nuts with plain chocolate bores me. Luckily for Lindt, for me, and for you, this chocolate is peppered not only with whole roasted almonds, but with almond brittle. Behold:

Lindt Swiss Gold White Chocolate with Almonds

Lindt’s Swiss Gold White Chocolate with Almonds has a clean and crisp aroma of fresh cream, tempered with subtle hints of roasted nuts (funny, that). I was pleased to see that the brittle was evenly dispersed throughout the chocolate, as were the browned and thereby well-roasted whole almonds (see photo below).

The taste of this chocolate isn’t particularly complex, but there’s something endearing about its simplicity. The flavours consistently call to mind fresh cream and milk, yet not in the sense of any overwhelming fattiness or thickness in the mouth. Instead, this chocolate tastes like fresh, cold, crisp, and naturally sweet milk, and like cream lightly whipped with a dusting of icing sugar (this is me disregarding, for the moment, that I don’t like token cream splotches on my desserts.)

Lindt Swiss Gold White Chocolate with Almonds

The almond brittle provides crunchy textural contrast and bursts of toffee sweetness, while the whole roasted almonds are almost enough to make me rethink my plain-nuts-in-chocolate aversion. Spectacularly crisp and full-flavoured, the tending-towards-savoury roasted almonds work as a great foil to the sweet chocolate. In fact, the almonds somewhat overwhelm the white chocolate’s subtlety, but no matter. I quite enjoyed the respite from unwavering milky sweetness.

White chocolate, in any form, will never replace my super-dark chocolate love (did I mention I have a Lindt 99% in my stash?), but this version certainly placated my desire for novelty.

Also, my wonderful father bought this for me. Dad? Thank you muchly.

* Darn tootin’ that’s a Sookie Stackhouse reference. But just so you know, I’m also halfway through Bleak House. Take that, high/low culture divide.

The Second Wayfaring Chocolate Tour of the Louvre

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It’s been far too long since one of my Art Whisperer tours appeared on this blog. I think it’s time we took another wander through the corridors of Paris’ Louvre, don’t you?

The Winged Victory of Samothrace

The Winged Victory of Samothrace

From an aesthetic point of view, I like how the clarity, precision, and permanence of this statue contrast with the blurred-in-motion crowd ascending towards it. From a Life Lesson point of view, however, the forward-facing nature of the ascending crowd calms me. For if there’s one thing the re-jiggered Dr. Who has taught me, it’s that we humans should never turn our backs on any statues that look like angels. (And that no one can replace David Tennant in my deepest heart of hearts.)

Vénus et les Trois Grâces offrant des presents à une jeune fille, by Alessandro Filipepi, better known as Sandro Botticelli

Vénus et les Trois Grâces offrant des presents à une jeune fille, by Alessandro Filipepi, better known as Sandro Botticelli.

Venus (on right): Not one single person has told me how beautiful I am today. Not one. What’s the point of living if no one will tell me I’m beautiful? Look at how the light has gone out of my eyes.

One of the Graces (on left): That is the single most entrancing lock of hair I’ve ever seen cascade down someone’s forehead. Look but don’t touch. Look but don’t touch. Look. But. Don’t. Touch.

Scènes de la vie de saint Jérôme, by Sano di Pietro.

Scènes de la vie de saint Jérôme, by Sano di Pietro.

Have you ever wanted to know what a lion looks like when it finds out about the seven deadly sins and realises it will never get to heaven? Now you do.

Though it hardly seems fair, seeing as lions are born into their pride.

Les Enfants d’Ascoyghe Boucherett, by Sir Thomas Lawrence.

Les Enfants d’Ascoyghe Boucherett, by Sir Thomas Lawrence.

Oldest Girl in Painting: “Then I bought a Chihuahua this big, so that it would fit comfortably in my handbag and we could be together for always. But then it defecated on the brocade lining and I, erm, sent it to the happy farm in the countryside.”

Middle Girl in Painting: “This is what Jesus looked like, right? Right?” (Editor’s Note: Too far? My sincerest apologies if it is.)

Youngest Girl in Painting: “And this is how I orchestrate the crazy singing voices in my head.”

L’Enlèvement d’Héléne, by Guido Reni

Part of L’Enlèvement d’Héléne, by Guido Reni

So I’m a big fan of cute puppies in paintings, but dear holy bucket what is that thing on the left? I fear its tail is sentient.

Lady painting in the Louvre

It’s like a real-life painting version of a Babushka doll! Except not at all like that.

You know, if I tried to do this, I’d end up standing in front of an easel with a stick figure drawn meticulously upon it. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. After all, Van Gogh’s artistic talents weren’t appreciated in his own lifetime…

Chocomize Dark Chocolate with Mini Pretzels, Cinnamon Toast Cereal, and Poppy Seeds

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See? My head isn’t an entirely loopy place to be. Sure, I like to keep things interesting by adding Tabasco to my peanut butter cookies and, when given the chance, designing a customised chocolate bar topped with edamame, curry powder and granola. But sometimes I do tend towards the tried-and-true. Sometimes, I aim for overall harmony – my years in a clarinet ensemble certainly showed me the value of being in tune with one’s surroundings.

And so I present to you the second of my personalised Chocomize creations. The creation intended to be less-crazy and more harmonious…

Chocomize Dark Chocolate with Mini Pretzels, Cinnamon Toast Cereal, and Poppy Seeds

Chocomize Dark Chocolate with Mini Pretzels, Cinnamon Toast Cereal and Poppy Seeds

What say you: do the pretzels look more like clovers or the warning sign for nuclear power?

After admiring the burnished pretzels, sugar-coated cereal, and little bitty blue-black poppy seeds embedded in the chocolate, I attempted to break off a few rows. I say “attempted” because the pretzels, in crossing over the bar’s demarcated squares, made it impossible to break the chocolate evenly. Is this a bad thing? Not for me. I see no issue in getting a larger chunk of chocolate than I intended. I figure it’s just the universe telling me that abstemiousness in the face of chocolate is ridiculous.

Still, it might make sharing tricky. Perhaps slightly smaller pretzels would work better? But that’s enough about boring old functionality. We all know that the important thing is the taste.

Chocomize Dark Chocolate with Mini Pretzels, Cinnamon Toast Cereal and Poppy Seeds

See the sugar on the cereal? Gotta love America.

For the sake of continuity, I’ll stay with the pretzels. They worked magnificently here. Not only were they as crisp and fresh as they day they were born (erm, baked), their malty, toasted wheat, and indubitably “pretzel-y” flavours played off the sweet dark chocolate wonderfully. As we know, I’m a fan of using flavours on the savoury spectrum (salt, chilli, curry, roasted edamame/nuts) to counteract the sweet side of chocolate. These pretzels did exactly that. Bravo, Chocomize.

The Cinnamon Toast Cereal was a little bit disappointing. The positives were the cereal’s light and crispy texture and the jolt of sweetness from its white sugar-coating, but sadly the cinnamon flavour was lacking. For a true cinnamon hit in your Chocomize bar, I’d recommend choosing the cinnamon powder instead of this cereal.

Chocomize Dark Chocolate with Mini Pretzels, Cinnamon Toast Cereal and Poppy Seeds

Poppy seeds are odd-looking close up, aren't they?

Poppy seeds have a nostalgic place in my heart, as my mum makes a poppy seed cake that, well, has a nostalgic place in my heart. Yep. (I may just have to blog it one day.) These poppy seeds provided a nice little textural crunch, but their flavour was a bit hit and miss. Sometimes the slightly-spicy, slighty-nutty poppy taste came through well, and other times… nothing. I’m not going to fault Chocomize for this, though, as poppy seeds aren’t the most striking seed in the birdfeeder, so to speak. Also, there’s a chance my senses were clouded by all the opium.

Last but not least, let’s chat about the chocolate. Surprisingly, if we’re talking about the straight-up chocolate, I far preferred Chocomize’s milk chocolate to its dark. And I’m a die-hard dark lover. In my experience, the milk chocolate had a lovely caramel complexity, whereas the dark chocolate was one-dimensional and a bit flat in its sweetness.

Don’t get me wrong, the chocolate wasn’t terrible by any means. Just very sweet, and definitely best when paired with strong, not-sweet flavours like pretzels. In fact, I’d very happily order another bar of Chocomize’s dark chocolate with only pretzels in it. That combination was brilliant.