Hands up if you have, or have had, an officemate? Someone with whom you share a square (or rectangular) four-walled workspace, or a little cubicle lit from above with fluorescent bulbs? (So flattering to the skin, those fluorescent lightbulbs. Let’s hear it for armies of blue-tinged workers!)
Do you like this officemate of yours? Does she or he manage to avoid transgressing your personal-space boundaries? Is he or she nice to talk to? A good person?
Well, I don’t care what you say.
‘Cause my officemate beats yours by about a squillion degrees of whatever measurement you like to count by.
Haigh’s Milk Chocolate with Honeycomb Pieces
Before you start to huff and puff and blow my house down with your stories of colleague friendliness, listen to my rationale for the above statement.
- My officemate and I have similar names, in the sense of having the same first initial and also having last names marked by our mothers’ applications of their feminist beliefs.
- We can make a quiet discontented noise whilst working and be fairly sure that the other person will not only ask for, but listen to, the reason behind it.
- My officemate not only reads my blog, but has even sent the URL to friends of hers. This makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and delighted inside.
- But what makes my officemate unequivocally kick the metaphorical booty of every other officemate in existence is that, after knowing me only two weeks, she went to Melbourne and brought me back a hefty chunk of Haigh’s chocolate, just because I’d never tried Haigh’s before and she thought it was time I did.
Seriously. This girl is so many kinds of awesome. Beat that, officemate-having people.
Haigh’s is the oldest family-owned chocolate-manufacturing retailer in Australia, and has been making chocolate since 1915. I don’t know about you, but that’s far longer than I’ve been on this earth. I love how the bar I received emanates a hand-made vibe (it was clearly broken from a larger plank of chocolate), and that Haigh’s is clearly very generous with its honeycomb. In fact, 38% of this bar is honeycomb. In other words, folks, it’s time to put on our deep-sea sugar goggles, because we’re about to head down into the oceanic chocolate depths of sugary sugary sugary sweetness.
The aroma of this chocolate, in a nutshell, epitomises its flavour. Both the aroma and taste are unrelentingly sweet, with waves of honey, skim milk, and vanilla hitting the senses one after the other. The aroma reminds me of Cadbury Dairy Milk, but the taste of Haigh’s milk chocolate is (to its credit) slightly less cloying than the Cadbury chocolate I’ve had recently.
The honeycomb is brilliantly crisp and crunchy, even after being open to the air for several days. I would’ve liked a stronger flavour from the honeycomb, and perhaps a bit of salt to counter its intense raw-sugar sweetness, but it did contribute a welcome textural contrast to the smooth milk chocolate.
There isn’t much else to say about this chocolate, except to clarify that it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, for a super-sweet-reminds-me-of-those-schoolyard-days-of-telling-tales-and-biting-nails treat, this Milk Chocolate with Honeycomb Pieces is a pretty good pick. I’d recommend it for kids, and for those moments when you desperately need a quick burst of sugary energy but also want the bone-building calcium benefit of milk chocolate. Because we chocolate-lovers don’t want osteoporosis, right? Right?
So thank you muchly, officemate of mine. This was a rather tasty initiation into the world of Haigh’s, and I can’t wait to visit one of their stores myself in future to explore more of their offerings.
Also, officemate? If you’re reading this while I’m sitting next to you… Hi!