Note: Our sample arrived damaged due to no fault of Original Beans. Please see our updated review of the Original Beans range for a more balanced opinion.
I have to say, I love the packaging design of this bar. Though the box got a little smashed when it was sent out to me, I love the color palette: a soft and dark gray, eggplant purple with a splash of pink, and silver. Then all the flowering vines with the leafy tree standing above the earth. Very nicely done. The Original Beans designer, at least, has my praise.
Original Beans is based out of the Netherlands and San Francisco, standing for nature conservation as well as fine chocolate.
Their CEO, Lesal Ruskey, puts it as “a way for the consumer to become engaged in the world around them and assume a leadership role in conservation through a super premium chocolate.” That’s why when you open up the triangular flap on the back, there’s a green print-out inside that explains the work Original Beans (named for the pre-chocolate industry beans that grew in rainforests) does preventing deforestation and the like.
There’s also a lot number to put into their site to see the benefits your specific lot is causing. Like another time I came across one of these lot numbers, it didn’t work. Not even the same company, so I have no idea why this is. So much for finding out about the trees my chocolate (origin, the Congo) saved. Each bar is supposed to plant one tree.
Unfortunately, the PR company forgot that Arizona is hot. Overnight shipping doesn’t cut it without insulation/cool packs when you’re in the 90’s and 100’s all but a couple of hours in the wee time of the night. So my poor chocolate arrived in liquid form. It was very good liquid, though. Quite tempting in itself with such gentle richness, but I had to stop myself and send it to the refrigerator to coax out a normal state. Its picture, then, only serves to show its medium dark brown color.
I think this is my new most expensive bar of chocolate. At 100 grams, I’m only finding it for $15 online, though a couple of places call it a $13 bar. I’m not sure I’d guess it from the taste. It’s full-bodied, if something sweeter than I’d expected. Tasting notes are mulberry, cara cara orange, and honeysuckle. In that order. At least, I can only assume the orange is in the middle: I’m not picking it up at all. Mulberry and honeysuckle, definitely, though. Whereas most of my pricier ventures have been extremely slow-melting, this one is the opposite. It liquifies so quickly in your mouth. Maybe that added to its hard time in the mail. It certainly has a unique delivery. In fact, it tastes just like the box design looks. Fashionably sophisticated, while still pretty.
It seems to me that you’re paying for a cause just as much as a chocolate. As long as you take that in stride, I can see this bar fitting in with many people’s favorites. After all, it is good to be thinking about kindness to people and the earth.
Sacrilege!
* end of review *
Oh. You want more? Ok then.
These imitation Jaffa Cakes come to us from Germany’s Bahlsen via a slightly annoying viral marketing campaign. They are just like real Jaffa Cakes, but with a higher level of rectangularness.
That’s a real word. Stop looking at me like that.
They taste pretty much the same as real Jaffa Cakes too. The flavours are all very similar to the real thing, but these are slightly smaller than proper McVities Jaffa Cakes and not quite as… good.
Aside from the obvious defficiency of not being real Jaffa Cakes, the texture of the orangey layer just isn’t quite right. Where proper Jaffa Cakes have a distinct jelly layer, the filling here is softer and more liquid. It’s just not the same if you don’t have that soft, tangy disc of jelly left in your mouth when the cake and chocolate have melted away.
And speaking of that cakey bit, there’s not enough of that either. Genuine Jaffa Cakes are not only about twice the size of these, but you get significantly more cakey bit per cake too.
I’d love to tell you more about what’s in them (purely to give a better comparison with original Jaffa Cakes), but unfortunately the “sample pack” I was sent isn’t a retail box and has no ingredients listed. I don’t even know if, where or when they will be available in the shops. Bahlsen’s PR people seem more intent of promoting their oh-so-clever marketing campaign, than telling us about the product.
In summary then; Don’t buy them. It just wouldn’t be British.
(Or Albert Heijn Excellent Zwitserse Melkchocolade met Stroopwafelsmaak in original Dutch!)
My mom got this chocolate as a present and passed it onto me. A bit of research told me that Albert Heijn is a dutch supermarket and I do believe “Excellent” is their equivalent of Tesco’s “Finest”. The mind boggles as to how the Dutch equivalent of Tesco’s Finest ended up distributed in Israel (there is a Hebrew language import sticker on the packaging) but there you go. One of life’s sweet mysteries.
Being a fan of both chocolate and the famous Dutch honey waffles (the ones that go on top of your cup of coffee so that they go all warm and soft in the middle) I got really excited when I was given this bar. In my mind’s eye (or mouth), I envisioned the perfect combination of flavours and textures – because what could be nicer than a sticky waffle covered in chocolate?
Boy was I wrong. This thin bar is composed of what can only be described as cheap, bland chocolate and some kind of sickly syrup that instantly leaves a bad taste in your mouth (if only it disappeared as quickly as it appeared). This is a far cry from the implied quality of either of those ingredients. I am not sure what the crunchy bits are in the chocolate, but they certainly weren’t any kind of actual waffle. Perhaps if I could read the Dutch ingredients list I’d have been spared the disappointment I felt after eating this. It tastes nothing like the waffles and, frankly, not much like chocolate either. It’s just a hit of unbearable, sickly sweetness that will stay with you until you clear your palate with something more, well… palatable.
Another gift from the Academy of Chocolate Awards goody bag, this is my first encounter with Domori. The subtly designed box is home to a 50g sliver of dark chocolate made with Colombian beans. Having thoroughly enjoyed my encounter with the Santander bar, I was cheerfully optimistic about this one.
The blurb on the box (mercifully brief and unpretentious) promises “Notes of cashew and honey. It has a sweetness and a long finish.” Naturally, they are correct. The honeyed, nutty flavours come through as soon as this hits the tongue. Being so thin it requires no effort at all – no chewing require. Sit a sliver of this on your tongue and in seconds the rich, semi-sweet cocoa flavours are upon you. It has the same ‘semi-sweet’ taste complex as the Santander bar, with a prolonged finish which holds the sweetness for a while then ends with woody, slightly bitter cocoa highs.
The mouthfeel is superb, light as a whisper on the palate and packed full of quite complex flavours. They really aren’t lying when they mention cashews either! If you’re relatively new to dark chocolate and want the flavour without the full body, this is ideal. Similarly, if you love to try single origin bars I would recommend this as an excellent example of Colombian cocoa.
Unfortunately, Domori’s website needs a little sorting out. It’s a curious hybrid of English slogans and Italian text, with very little in the way of pricing information (unless that comes at checkout time, in which case, points should be deducted). I’m guessing that these bars are not cheap. Having said that, this one was jolly good and well worth tracking down.
