Just saying the word brings to mind stolen moments of bliss, sitting in a corner, in a car, in bed, savoring a truffle, a piece of fine dark chocolate, a Hershey bar. Just like there’s no wrong way to eat a Reese’s, there’s nothing you can do to ruin a fine bar of chocolate.
Or at least that’s what I thought.
Until last week.
One of my good friends, knowing I was having a stressful week littered with mines called “deadlines,” dropped off several bars of chocolate to help fuel my brain and ease my consternation. Looking at the wrappers, I knew she had taken some time and care before making her selections. The bars were not cheap. They were also organic (although I’m not fussy). They were waiting for me when I staggered back to my desk following back-to-back meetings about topics I know nothing about and care about even less. I spotted the bars on my desk and alighted on the first one, clutching it in my desperate hand. Doing a quick sweep of the room to make sure no one had seen the confection on my desk, I opened my drawer and swept the other two out of sight. Then, leaning back in my ergonomic office chair, I unwrapped the bar in my hand and took a huge bite.
And promptly spit it out.
WTF??? Crystallized ginger??? Why, in name of all that is sacred in your world, would anyone put crystallized ginger in chocolate? I grabbed my cup of six-hour-old coffee and chugged, trying to get the taste of said ginger out of my mouth. I loathe ginger on principal. The fact that it somehow sneaked into my mouth via an innocent piece of chocolate makes it even more vile.
Looking for respite, now, I yanked open the drawer and pulled out the other two bars. One was milk chocolate with chai. Chai. That’s Middle Eastern tea. Hmmâ€¦. I eyed the chocolate. Dare I try it? I finally decided to give it a go, thinking it couldn’t be any worse than the dark chocolate with ginger.
It was just as bad.
After washing my mouth out with some more of the now six-hour-and-two-minute old coffee, I threw the two opened bars of chocolate away and placed the third bar on a table we affectionately call “Ingestation.” It was formally known as the “trough”. Any food that gets placed there disappears within moments. Picture a cloud of locusts descending upon crops and decimating said crops in mere seconds. You get the idea.
A week has passed. That chocolate bar is still sitting at the Ingestation.
Seems even broadcast engineers with cast-iron stomachs steer clear of chocolate with questionable things added to it. Or maybe we’re just not sophisticated enough to enjoy it.
Eh. I don’t even want to find out.
Just pass me the Snickers and shut up.