Although I myself am not a well-traveled person, the travels of acquaintances can sometimes yield touches of the benefits I’m missing out on. After spending a week in New York, one such friend informed me she had brought me back some chocolates. I would have accepted any gladly, but imagine my delight at receiving a small box by Michel Cluizel. It seems ages since I’ve had any Michel Cluizel; indeed, it has been a long time–it just isn’t a brand I can find in local stores. Yet it’s one of the top “find brands” I have had the chance to experience.
Chocolates may have been more risky to transport nearly coast-to-coast, but I’m glad of the opportunity they bring since I’ve only had Michel Cluizel bars in the past. The tiny, four-piece box the chocolates came in is beautiful. Its rich brown top receives accents from a bright yellow-orange bottom portion and a matching sunny bow. The bow looked so pretty and everything was so perfect that I hated to disturb it; I just wanted to hold the palm-sized box in the center of my hand and smile at it.
The sight inside was no less perfect to my eyes, so it was at this point that I started to get worried. When I review something under a name I esteem, I worry that I’ll too easily think too highly of it, yet I also want to be sure I’m not trying to hold it to too high a standard. I tried to keep my mind in the right focus as I approached these chocolates. My friend remembered to scribble down the names, and I believe I identified them all correctly:
Bouchons – Because of the pattern on the foil wrapping this one up, I thought of it as resembling a log until I found that the name’s translation is “cork” or “stopper.” Ah. Fitting, then, is the alcohol lurking in the dark chocolate’s creamy center. The alcohol flavor makes it rich, and it melts as smooth as cream while retaining a full-bodied substance.
Gaufrette – The translation here is “wafer,” as in the two wafer discs holding a light brown cream in place. An interesting shape. And hello, there, is that my friend hazelnut I detect? Since there are two discs of chocolate, you can taste their depth of flavor more here.
Palet au Miel – “Disc of honey” goes to the similar-looking piece with the honeycomb-patterned top. Honey being a gorgeous natural substance, honey chocolates can also be lovely. This one defies explanation–at this point I knew I wouldn’t be exaggerating by praising these chocolates. As you slowly let your teeth sink into the Palet au Miel, observe the cohabitation of density and smoothness. Focus on the gentle richness you find–it’s the true taste of honey, golden and sweet, encapsulated in folds of dark chocolates. It’s soft and poetic, but still commands attention because you want so much to listen. This chocolate alone was worth it.
Figaro – At least, I think that’s the name: scribbles are hard to read. In any case, there seem to be other chocolates out there with this name that have a similar striped appearance. The alternating white and light brown stripes here are dipped halfway in chocolate. I hesitate to say it in case I’m wrong, but I think the flavor is hazelnut again. But, oh, my goodness, whatever it is melts in the mouth more beautifully and literally than anything. It’s so light as it crumbles down to a paste and then sinks into a nutty aftertaste. The thread of chocolate doesn’t much get my attention because the lovely, sweet creaminess with its nutty aura keeps me so enthralled.
Maybe it’s just as well I don’t live in New York. A box of these a week would be luxury, and a box of twelve would be sin dangling just within my reach.
Christmas and Valentine’s Day have been and gone, which can only mean one thing – Easter is coming! Fortnum & Mason were kind enough to send us one of their eggs to try, and as you can see, it’s rather beautiful.
Once you undo the ribbons and remove the egg from its sturdy box, it still looks just as good. The simple, dark chocolate shell is extremely glossy, well tempered and half decorated with sugar flowers and ducklings.
It’s a 72% chocolate of unspecified origin, and although fairly easy to eat, doesn’t have a lot of flavour, so I presume is made from basic Forestero beans. For such a pretty egg, the flavour of the chocolate is something of a let-down. Not because it’s bad, but simply because it’s ordinary.
Only the front-facing half of the egg is decorates, which is fair enough, as packaging intricately decorated eggs can often be a problem. These eggs are designed so that they can sent through the post when ordered online, and mine arrived in perfect condition, and I think I’d rather sacrifice a bit of extra decoration in return for my egg arriving in one piece.
The shell itself is nice and thick, but I have to say the contents are a little disappointing. A small bag of chocolate characters made from exactly the same chocolate as the egg itself, so there’s no contrasting flavours or colours, and nothing to add a little sweetness to the egg.
I’m also a little confused, as this video on the Fortnum & Mason website, shows eggs filled with neatly packaged fresh chocolates. That’s definitely not the case here.
At £37.50 for a 227g egg, this is certainly not cheap. Obviously a lot of work goes into hand decorating and packaging an egg like this, but I’m not convinced a real dark chocolate enthusiast who might receive this as a gift will truly appreciate it, and there’s nothing to satisfy those with a sweeter tooth either.
Ultimately, it’s beautiful to look at, but the bulk of my egg ended up being broken up and going into my ‘leftover chocolate for cooking’ jar. But perhaps this egg was just not for me – there are plenty of other beautiful creations to choose from on Fortnum’s website.
A while back I reviewed a few from Delicasey’s selection of Sydney-made chocolates.
Of course, (bwah hah hah!) I was keeping something back: at the time we didn’t just come away with those previous three, oh no, I came away with more than that. In fact I came away with enough chocolate that the only way to get it safely back home in an aircraft was to go and buy another cabin bag to keep it protected. A few dollars worth of chocolate… Two hundred dollars worth of luggage to carry it home in. Such are the lengths we must go to for you, the readers!
With the passing of a little time, and having just broken these out of The Chocolate Stash, I have reached a simple conclusion: This Casey dude is a genius with flavour. Read on to see why.
Chilli Bark
The label says this is “layers of dark chocolate with fresh chillies and cinnamon”.
Now I have a confession: I’m not very partial to chocolate with chilli in. Yes I know, it’s supposed to be how the Mayans, or Aztecs, or some lot would slurp down their watery gooey chocolatey drink thingy: zinged up with chillies. Most of the chilli chocolate I’ve tasted seems to be trying too hard. The chilli is there to give heat instead of subtly enhancing the flavour, and this detracts.
I therefore approached Caseys Chilli Bark with some trepidation.
Oh how wrong could I be!
This is brilliant. Masterful. Wonderful. Just insanely delicious.
The chocolate starts with a big, rich chocolate aroma, which develops in the mouth to a rich soft dark, slightly earthy chocolate flavour. Then from stage left, the dancing girls come in: the cinnamon arrives and builds. But, where you might ask, is the evil villain? The chilli? Surely there must be some, the label says so. And eventually, he pops his head out, twirls his evil moustache, grins his evil grin, and gives a gentle kick in the chops. Yep, Mr Chilli is there but he delays his appearance, and when he appears he’s subtle: a sheep in wolfs clothing. He gives the chocolate and the cinnamon their chance to sing and make merry – and by check, they do.
If I seem to be waxing lyrical as well as mixing my metaphors: I am! This is exciting, brilliant stuff. A fantastic mix of flavours, well executed, and simply divine. A chilli chocolate I could eat all day. Fantastic!
Guinea Figs
I’ve reviewed chocolate figs before, so I was curious to see how these compare.
The Willabrand Figlettes that I refer to above enrobed, using the same kind of process used for making scorched almonds, chocolate sultanas, and so on. That is, they are tumbled with chocolate in warm air and then glazed. This gives a nice even, shiny coating which presents just like many other chocolate coated fruits or nuts.
Delicaseys Guinea Figs, on the other hand, are dipped or drizzled with chocolate. The figs are even smaller, too. Each coated fig makes a single mouthful of yumminess; the fig is delicate in flavour and still very soft, slightly chewy, and just… well.. delicious.
Tasmanian Mountain Berry
The Tasmanian Pepperberry actually has a wider reach than just Tasmania, also being found through parts of New South Wales and Victoria.
From this chocolate, it’s hard to pick an actual flavour – because whilst peppery, it has been combined into a sweet, slightly sticky caramel. The eating turns into a moving feast of flavours – from the chocolate, the caramel, and something else… a flavour which lingers on… slightly peppery, slightly fruity. The flavour makes me think “green”, I’ve no idea why. Long after the chocolate is gone, the flavour is subtle and lingering. An excellent argument for eating your chocolate S..L..O..W..L..Y..
This is one to go for if looking for something a little unusual. This does not mean it is challenging, just a little out of the ordinary. One of those to pick up when you get together with friends and want to give them something they are not likely to have come across before.
Last year I attended an alcoholic ginger beer tasting, organised by the lovely Kavey. To help all that ginger beer go down, Kavey prepared a simple but delicious Toblerone fondue, which was served with bread and fruit.
It was very nice, but being an experimental type, I decided to try it with the wasabi peas that also happened to be on the table. Everyone pulled faces and told me how disgusting I was until they tried it themselves. The creamy chocolate worked perfectly with the heat of the wasabi and the crunch of the pea. I had invented something new!
I was very proud of my invention, knowing nobody else would ever think to combine these two magical ingredients. That was until I got an email from Darren Polish from California. Asking if I’d like to try his chocolate wasabi peas. After a few seconds of feeling horribly jealous that someone else had turned my idea into an actual product, I asked him to send me samples. Because I know that wasabi peas and chocolate are a marriage made in heaven. So here they are:
Darren credits his father with coming up with these. I think his father probably stole my thoughts before I’d had them (although a bit of Googling reveals the idea has been around for a while). The important thing is that somebody is actually making the product I dreamed of. Shiny little balls of spicy vegetable goodness.
And they taste as good as I expected them to. Of course, these aren’t fine chocolates, they’re a snack. They may be a couple more ingredients in there than are absolutely necessary (there’s some added colouring and the chocolate is coated in confectioners glaze), but frankly I don’t care. They’re crunchy, spicy and addictive.
They taste and texture is a little like a Malteser, with an initial crunch, followed by a bit of spice and a hint of pea. Part of me feels a little queasy when that pea flavour comes through the milk chocolate, but then I find myself eating another. And another. I’m having a kind of love/hate relationship with them.
Darren is so sure of them, he’s started a Kickstart Project to get funding to produce these commercially along with a range of other chocolate wasabi treats. At the time of writing, with just over a week to go, the Kickstarter page is just over half way to it’s $5000 goal. If you like the idea, maybe you can help him out.
