Ode to Chocolate

Ode to Chocolate

Chocolate is my weakness. I love it. I need it.

I don’t even know if I want to write about the depths of my choco-holism. One of my favourite meals to cook is chicken mole. It’s chicken covered in a spicy chocolate sauce. It comes from the Mexican state of Oaxaca. The recipe calls for an ounce of chocolate but, really, come on, who can taste an ounce? In my opinion, you need to triple that (at least).

I went to Oaxaca once and ate nothing but chocolate for two days. Hot chocolate, chocolate bars, three different types of chocolate mole. I even chose a hotel across from a small chocolate factory. The only think I didn’t do is smoke it. Apparently you can do that (that's what the Aztecs did with it), but to me that seems a waste.

If I run out of chocolate the first thing I’ll do is clean out the chocolate crumbs in the bottom of the cookie jar. Since I only buy chocolate chip cookies, there is always a small handful of dusty chocolate chips at the bottom. Next stop, when that’s been licked clean, is the bag of chocolate chips kept for “baking purposes” (which is something I’ve never done). Last resort, and I mean it, is the bittersweet or even unsweetened baking chocolate. I always feel a little unwell after that snack, though.

Luckily, I’ve become an expert at eating chocolate until I’m almost sick then backing off, waiting till I’m OK, then pushing the chocolate eating envelope again. It's a dangerous line to walk, but I'm good at it.

Like any other junkie, the worst is when you get caught. You know, when you are seen doing something pathetic to get a fix. I lived with my cousin and her boyfriend for a while and I can still see the look on her face when she went to do some baking and pulled out an empty box of unsweetened baking chocolate. She didn’t need to say anything. The look of disbelief, first at the box, then, questioningly at me, was enough. I felt shame. But was it enough to stop me? NEVER. Chocolate is my friend.