Am I posting about these Easter chocolates in September because:
a) I’m wily like that;
b) I found them in my old room at my parents’ place this weekend, having completely forgotten that I hadn’t eaten them back in April;
c) Easter is symbolically associated with Spring, but in Australia (and the southern hemisphere in general) it takes place in Autumn, and so I waited five months to eat my Easter chocolate in Spring;
d) I kept hoping that, one day, the cute little chocolate bilbies would turn into cute little real bilbies and then I’d have two cute little real bilbies as pets and they’d be like Disney sidekicks and hide in my pockets and whisper words of advice in my ear and they’d get rid of all the spiders in my house and life would be magical and I wouldn’t have to eat them;
e) Why isn’t my life a Disney movie?
David Jones Easter Fare Dark Chocolate Twin Bilbies
When I opened up my little plastic box of chocolate bilbies and breathed in their sweet aroma, I immediately felt like I was ten years old again, sitting in the rumpus room playing Creatures on the computer for hours upon hours. (Teach the baby Norns to speak English! Tickle them when they eat the healthy food! Smack them so they learn to stay away from the Grendel [I cannot believe I can remember the terms Norn and Grendel]! Wait for the kissssssssssss-pop noise that means two of the Norns have had sex, then excitedly click on the female’s profile to see if she’s pregnant yet! … Did anyone else have that computer game? Because I totally want to play it again. Right now.)
The only reason I can think of for this strong aroma-memory is that I must have once eaten some David Jones chocolate whilst playing Creatures, and as a result the two are intertwined in my mind.
It’s not beyond the scope of probability; my mother has been giving my brother and me these chocolate bilbies for years now.
(Not the exact same chocolate bilbies. It’s not like she gives us the box, lets us smell the chocolate, and then takes it back so she can give it to us again the following year, ad infinitum.)
After hopping my bilbies all around the picnic table for a good five minutes or so and making them talk to each other in sickly-sweet Disney-esque voices, I put one into a Tupperware container and smashed it with the handle of a butter knife. It wasn’t as violent as it sounds, I promise.
Now able to happily eat the chocolate without the bilby’s eyes staring back at me, I settled into a lovely sweet chocolate-y Easter feast of wonderment. The 55% “superfine” dark chocolate melts beautifully, like fudge, silkily, in the mouth, and the flavour is calming in its simplicity. It’s sweet, yes, with notes of marshmallow, lemonade (the Sprite kind, not the homemade kind), and toffee, but it’s also richer than you’d expect, lingering on the palate long after the chocolate itself has disappeared.
This David Jones Superfine Dark Chocolate won’t blow you away, but it will take you back to a sweetly happily chocolate-y moment of childhood, a moment in which your sole concern was whether any of your Norns would get knocked up before your mum came to remind you to do your forty-five minutes of piano practice.
Those were the days.