I love chocolate. I won’t say that my love for chocolate eclipses all the other loves in my life, but it’s right up there. Don’t tell my fella, but if I was stranded on a desert island with the choice of a lifetime supply of my favorite 72% bar or my guy, I’d miss him dearly. And on my journey toward better, smarter eating habits, I’ve had to learn to choose my chocolate wisely and with great care.
Everything in Moderation
Some years ago I was working with a nutritionist who was pretty hardcore about what I could or couldn’t eat. So strict was she, that any type of food slip-up was not part of the plan at all. For a year and a half I stuck to her rigid eating plan, and not so much as an errant chocolate chip passed my lips. But then I slipped up. I don’t remember what it was, but I think it was a bite of a Kit Kat that was my undoing. After those floodgates burst, I couldn’t stop eating chocolate and felt like the girl who’d been let loose in Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory. In a matter of weeks I felt like I’d undone all the benefits of the previous 18 months. Worse still, because it had been so long since I’d even tasted a chocolatey morsel, I felt like I had to reacquaint myself with every combination or permutation. And I’m afraid that I did just that.
The Evolved Sweet Tooth
In the past months I’ve revamped the way I eat, shop, cook and prepare, but more than that, it’s been a journey that’s been a few years coming. More like a lifetime, but that’s a story for a different post. Part of that involves paying attention to everything I eat, and weighing not the portion, but its value in my life. One indulgence I always allow myself is the best possible dark chocolate I can find or afford. I’m not one of those people who always loved dark chocolate, in fact, I was strictly a milk chocolate girl for most of my life. But tastes evolve, along with the rest of us.
Raising the Bar
My late father David— who I miss desperately every moment of every day–was himself a fan of dark chocolate, the darker the better. When I was about 12 years old I had an accident in summer camp involving a slip near the swimming pool and my still slightly crooked jaw. As my father raced to be by my side at the hospital, he somehow magically also managed to find time to procure the most giant bar of bittersweet chocolate I can ever remember seeing. Even back then I understood that my father was offering comfort with the indulgence he loved above all, to one of the people he loved above all.
When I grew up and started traveling- which I do a lot of, I’d always try to pick up an unusual bar to bring back for my father. Gritty salted rounds from Mexico, or smooth chocolate drops from Scotland, I always tried to find something new or weird or spectacular. It was my way of sharing the experience with him- and the taste of it afterward.
Because of my love for chocolate and the way it connects me to my father, I’m going to be including a series of posts, reviews and updates on mostly 72% chocolate- hence the tag The Dark Side. Stay tuned for posts about my chocolate dipped musings and insights!
Till we beet again,
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