My heart has been somewhere entirely different to my head tonight.
I’ve started three separate word documents ostensibly titled “chocolate review”, and yet each time I’ve tried to write an opening line I’ve found myself creating stanzas of poetry instead.
Perhaps it’s because I interviewed Omar bin Musa on Monday, and his passion for poetry, language, art, and story-telling seared deep inside me. (Note to self: write up that profile piece before you go to Melbourne on Thursday.)
Perhaps it’s because I spent my childhood and teenage years writingwritingwriting.
Perhaps it’s because, even today, I can sometimes only smooth the rips in my throat by translating thoughts into lyricism.
Or perhaps it’s because I didn’t eat enough of this chocolate, and I’m therefore feeling antsy and bereft.
Whittaker’s Dark Chocolate Mocha 62%
Wait, that’s a stupid quandary. In fact, it’s not even a quandary. There’s no way any chocolate bar could compete with this courageous woman who not only has impeccable taste in books but willingly engages in outdoor adventuring with men dressed in pink skirts and tiaras. Yes, I do mean that the men are the ones wearing skirts and tiaras.
Vaala, just in case I’m not being clear enough… I like all of the chocolates you so generously sent me, but I like you even more.
Following on from my reactions to Whittaker’s 62% Dark Chocolate, Dark Chocolate with Caramel, and Bittersweet Peanut Slab, I was pretty enthusiastic about diving into this 250g block of dark chocolate mixed with ground coffee beans.
After all, I love dark chocolate, I love coffee, and I love thermal socks. Only one of those things isn’t relevant today.
The aroma of this chocolate was, surprisingly, very faint in coffee, instead dominated by sweet rich chocolate with hints of vanilla and toffee. The coffee grounds comprise 8% of the bar, and so I was expecting a rather punchy and assertive caffeinated jolt of wonderment when I took my first bite.
However, the first thing I noticed was a gritty texture, followed swiftly by notes of honey, molasses, toast, and golden syrup. The coffee flavour did appear eventually, but quietly, quietly, much like the way the sea creeps up on you whilst you stand in the sand, breathing in the salt-flecked air.
Yet even with high tide, the coffee flavour didn’t sweep me away. It only inflected the toffee notes of the sweet chocolate with subtle whispers of something broodier, darker, earthier.
I liked the dark and mysterious coffee hints, but wouldn’t have minded them being a bit stronger. I also quite enjoyed the gritty texture of the chocolate, as it reminded me of Taza’s stoneground chocolate creations (my dad did not concur, stating that he’d rather have a smooth chocolate mixed with whole coffee beans).
Most of all, though, I liked knowing that this chocolate came from that magical New Zealand-land of pink skirts, tiaras, and wonderful friends.
If that’s not poetry, I don’t know what is.