There are two very specific sorts of sadness that arise out of chocolate blogging.
The first comes at the moment of finishing a truly spectacular bar of chocolate and realising that a second bar is not within reach. (And, worse, may not even exist in the same country as you do.)
The second comes when you write the review for said chocolate (oftentimes months after the eating), because it is with The Typing Of The Words and The Clicking Of The Publish that you know, deep down, the chocolate is gone.
Askinosie White Chocolate and Pistachio
Here’s the thing: Askinosie’s White Chocolate with Roasted and Salted Pistachios is simply great. Just so great. Great to the multiple times of a billion great. So great.
Askinosie was the first small-batch chocolate maker in the U.S.A. to make its white chocolate completely from scratch, pressing its own cocoa butter and powering the chocolate conching machine with iridescent fairy dust*.
* This last may not be entirely true. The rest is, though.
The ingredients for this chocolate are organic cane juice, cocoa butter (made in the Askinosie factory with Davao [Philippines] beans, goat’s milk powder, and organic roasted and salted pistachios.
Because of the quality of Askinosie’s ingredients and chocolate-making process, this white chocolate has an aroma and taste that is truly, truly chocolate-y, unlike mass-market white chocolate that taste of naught but sugar and dairy.
The aroma is like caramel and cocoa butter, but with something deeper, something almost tangy, something that calls you closer, closer. So you draw closer (of course), and you bite.
It’s sweet, but in a restrained way; this Askinosie White Chocolate and Pistachio bar reminds you of full-bodied ice cream with a hint of chevre. You’d never say it’s aggressively goat-y, though. It’s more like a complexity, a fullness in the flavour… and then the gloriously roasted salted near-savoury hits of pistachio swim into the maple sugar-esque, no, the muscovado-y, no, the golden syrup-almost sweetness of the white chocolate with its notes of grassiness and custard and crème brulee…
And then you stop trying to pin words on this chocolate. It’s too great, too unlike every other white chocolates you’ve had.
You just want to eat it and enjoy it.
And then cry a little bit when it’s over.
Hyperbole, me? Not at all.