Salty & Sweet

Food and Wine's milk chocolate tart with pretzel crust

Now that this blog's grad school hiatus is officially over, I can tell you about one of my all-time favorite pleasures. It is the taste of salty and sweet on the palate, and here are just a few of the ways to enjoy this:

• the Canadian tradition of dipping bacon into maple syrup
• a cheese plate with wine and some salty & sweet accoutrements  
• adding plain M&Ms to movie theater popcorn (some prefer M&M peanut)
• the trend of adding salt to caramel and other desserts: 1) here is a recipe for a caramel sea salt tart from Saveur magazine in 2009; 2) you can buy bittersweet sea salt chocolate chip cookies online now from Saint Cupcake in Portland, and you should! One of the best cookies I ever tasted.

My favorite salty/sweet combo has got to be chocolate-covered pretzels. Chocolate paired with the salty crunch of a pretzel makes more sense than many things in this world. Their coming together is as relevant as the food marriages of bacon and eggs, steak and french fries, chocolate and peanut butter, and all those other popular flavor combinations we now can't live without. When people think of chocolate and pretzels, the result is often smiles and visions of old-time summer carnivals.

The combo has always been popular, and in 2004 it entered the mainstream when Hershey’s introduced its Take Five bar. This was seen by my chocolate-and-pretzel-loving family as a brilliant addition to our blasé national candy mix. Things don't change often in the candy aisle. Most "new" candies are simply adaptations of a Reese's or a Snicker's, since those are the top-selling candy bars in the country. The Take Five was refreshingly new, and it made this favorite flavor combination both accessible and reasonably priced. The addition of peanut butter and caramel fit like a glove, and people really liked the combination of silky and crunchy, salty and sweet.

So it makes perfect sense that in the last few years pretzels have become the new salt, and therefore the new darling of pastry chefs. Incorporating pretzels into desserts is the rage, and customers are as happy to find such desserts as they were in the '90s when restaurants started putting s’mores on menus. My initial exposure to pretzels in cuisine was in the '90s too, when I read about chef David Burke's unique new dishes like angry lobster and chicken with a pretzel crust. His creative use of "pretzel as menu ingredient" was definitely ahead of its time.

Sprinkles peanut butter pretzel chip

The first time I noticed pretzels in pastry was while leafing through a 2009 Food and Wine magazine in 2011. I came across a recipe for a milk chocolate tart with pretzel crust (see photo above). At first I experienced a kicking-of-self moment for not making this when I read of it two years earlier, and this was followed by relief—hey, I can make this now! Which is what I did at my friend Jen’s house. (Part of this was recorded in a short video clip.) It took awhile to make but it was worth it—what a tart! The only thing I noticed is that the pretzel pieces on top soon became soggy. That was also the case last Tuesday when I bought a delightfully chunky peanut butter pretzel chip cookie for $3 at the Sprinkles Ice Cream store in Beverly Hills. That’s right America, there is fattening food for sale in La La Land. People eat what they want and then go hiking is all. Or get lipo.

Mesa Grill's chocolate pretzel tart

So pretzels are appearing in magazine dessert recipes now. One could always buy or make chocolate-covered pretzels, and this was a welcome twist on the theme. I don’t think pretzel desserts are too far-spread yet, which is why I was thrilled in Las Vegas last month during dinner at Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill. An item from Clarisa Martino’s dessert menu was tattooed on my brain before the plane even landed in the desert, so I made it very clear to my party that this particular dessert would be my destiny that night: "chocolate pretzel tart with spicy peanut butter and chocolate swirl ice cream." Seriously, they had me at chocolate pretzel, and spicy peanut butter flirted with me too. Someone else at the table ordered the same, because the desserts seemed too small to share. The result was a dessert at the high-end of the chocolate/pretzel continuum: a chocolate brownie sitting in a buttery pretzel crust with a molten moat of chocolate sauce to soften the blow. Did I know where the spicy peanut butter part existed? Nope, and I didn't care. This was a humble yet spectacular dessert featuring various textures and temperatures, and complimentary flavors.

What I liked too about the Mesa Grill dessert is that there were pretzels in the crust, like the tart above, and the crust was crunchy. The crushed pieces of pretzel in the crust may not be crunchy as they were in their original form, but after being mixed with flour and butter and baked, the pretzel bits transform into a crust that one envisions as having the same crunch of a pretzel. Not so in the case of Sprinkles’ peanut butter pretzel chip cookie, which had a crunchy fabulousness when I ate the one half on day 1, yet on day 2 the second half lost most of its pretzel crunch! Lesson: always eat the whole cookie, heck especially if you live near mountains or plastic surgeons.

Marly's dipped pretzel cookies

After making the chocolate pretzel tart in 2011, the crust tasted so good I decided to experiment and make cookies out of it. (Let me know if you'd like the recipe.) And next time I venture into the kitchen to make cookies, I'm going to try to make a version of the Sprinkles peanut butter pretzel chip, with pretzel pieces, some peanut butter and chocolate chips too. But I don't want my pretzels to get soggy, since my willpower and desire to fit in clothes will not allow me to eat all the cookies in their pretzel-crunchy state in one day. So here's an idea: instead of pretzel pieces, I'll mix in pieces of chocolate-covered pretzel. This will protect the pretzels from getting soggy and allow me to enjoy the cookies days later with no less crunch.

Until we eat again,
Marly

Toffee Love

Candy lovers are people I can really relate to, ahem, because I'm one myself. One thing about candy lovers—besides their need for dental work—is as much as they get excited by all kinds of candy, there’s usually one sweet in particular that rocks their world. For instance, my sister is drawn to caramels. Another friend of mine loves sour candies. Others love licorice. Candy lovers usually have at least one must-have item in a candy store, and for me that has always been toffee.

No, not taffy or that kind of thing; I’m talking about traditional English-style toffee, with its sunburnt golden hues, slicks of chocolate on one or both sides, and some kind of nut sparingly integrated throughout. Toffee should be lightly crunchy and even a little gritty when chewed, not sticky or gluey as can be the case with peanut brittle. A good toffee is dental-work safe! It will crunch and then soon dissolve once bitten. Overcooked toffee is a sad thing, stuck in a candy purgatory between what toffee should be and peanut brittle, and that's no good.

The simple matter is that brittle is called brittle because… it is brittle. It gets that way because it’s cooked slightly longer and/or to a higher temperature than is needed to achieve toffee—although some recipes use the same cooking temperature for both toffee and brittle, and this fact probably confuses both of us. All I know is the butter/sugar combo of brittle has simply caramelized more than the kind of toffee I like. Great toffee lives in a place between caramel's softness and brittle’s brittleness. I can't eat brittle anymore. It’s not worth the risk and my dental hygienist would not be happy. Toffee, however, is still fair game.

My first toffee memory is from the college years during the "chocolate overdose period," recounted in the "Overdose" post. After the initial order from Nestle's International arrived, other chocolate companies sent catalogs to my address, and eventually I sent a check to Nancy’s Candies—a local candy shop in Georgia—to try what they were apparently best known for: chocolate pecan crunch.

If a perfect toffee exists in this world, one that sets the bar and palate at a high level of expectation forever, it's Nancy’s. Why? One reason is it only has five ingredients (butter, sugar, chocolate, pecans, salt), it's DELICIOUS, it’s perishable-fresh and it’s cooked perfectly every time.

How gratifying to know that 20 years later, even after Nancy merged her kitchen with Linda and then both were bought out by Katy, the candy shipped out today from the small city of LaGrange, Georgia (pop: 25,000) tastes exactly as amazing, exactly as toffee-perfect as it did the first time.

I’ve tried to recreate Nancy's chocolate pecan crunch many times at home and many times succeeded. It doesn't always work. In Santa Fe I thought my friend would love it, yet the elevation was apparently too high to produce a toffee batch that didn’t curdle (this realization occurred to us after the 3rd attempt).

Los Angeles isn’t a great place to make toffee either, or maybe just not in my kitchen. The sugar and butter never quite merge in the pot, and I wonder if this has anything to do with the dry LA air or the opposite: my apartment sits directly over the laundry room. Who knows. All this means is I stopped trying to make toffee at home—better for my waistline, better for my teeth!

If you like toffee, here is a short list of personal faves:

• Nancy's Candies (per above) - Their website is pretty sparse, but you can call to order or just ask them to send a catalog. Either way, they’ll ship out a silver tin of chocolate pecan crunch (or pralines, etc.) and you will not be sorry.
• See's Candies – Classic California old-fashioned candy maker that offers several toffee options: the Victoria toffee, milk or dark California brittle, and white chocolate cashew brittle are all thick, crunchy toffee goodness. If you buy online, buying a 1 lb. “nuts and chews” box will net you some of the brittles (they chew closer to toffee than brittle to me), or you can buy the Victoria toffee on its own or create a custom box.
• Littlejohn's Candies – Right before moving to LA, a Burbank friend shipped me a box from this homey sweets shop located at the Los Angeles Farmer's Market. Littlejohn’s makes fantastic toffee, and their fudge is really good too.
• The Toffee Box – Just tried this California-made toffee at a chocolate show and fell in love. Their delicious “classic dark chocolate” toffee is very close to Nancy's, just with walnuts instead of pecans. Their white chocolate macadamia nut version gives the classic kind a run for its money.
• Valerie's Confections – While the toothsome toffees of this charming LA candy/bake shop are a bit more costly than others (except you Roger's of Victoria), it's for good reason. Each piece is a purposeful and exceptional square of the perfect height, flavor and crunch; all come with a flavor flourish of some sort and the chocolate dip couldn't be finer. They offered me a few free samples to review for this blog, so I tried their signature almond fleur de sel and it was fab. However it was their seasonal pumpkin seed toffee that truly blew my toffee mind. Gotta go back & get me a 6-pack of those ASAP.

There are other well-known chocolate companies that make tasty toffee, I just happen to prefer the places above for that. And if you don't feel like buying toffee, you can always try to make some yourself! My old college roommate Nanci (I know what you're thinking, but she is not related to Nancy of Nancy's Candies) once sent me an easy toffee recipe torn from the pages of Southern Living magazine (this version looks close), and here's a recipe from Sunset magazine that looks good too.

Now this post isn't suggesting I only eat toffee or my sister only eats caramels (she plans to try "ghost pepper bacon toffee" at a NJ shop soon). My candy adrenaline simply shoots up higher when this favorite is in sight, in the same way my blood pressure shoots up momentarily after a dental X-ray is taken to see if there's any damage. It's a yin and yang relationship and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Until we eat again,
Marly

Little Chocolate Lie

In my last post, "Overdose," I forgot to mention something about the time when I started secretly eating chocolate behind my Mom's back (because she feared it would make me sick, which it didn't). When I was 15, my friends and I ate candy as an after-school activity and when that wasn't enough, I'd sneak some back into my room. One error in judgement—brought on by sheer teen laziness—almost ruined everything. After eating candy in my room, sometimes I'd forgot to throw away the wrappers. My Mom noticed and confronted me. (Guess I wasn't so stealth after all.) My quick reply birthed from mortification and fear was, "Oh I didn't eat those Mom. They're my friends' candy bars...they ate 'em and gave the wrappers to me because...I'm starting to collect them." If my Mom didn't believe me (who would?) she never let on. But because I felt so awful about lying, I figured the best way to fix it was to make the lie true, and that's how my chocolate wrapper collection began.

Overdose

An emergency-room doctor told my parents I had a chocolate allergy when I was five years old, meaning I became one of those kids whose Halloween bounty was stored far from reach. During junior high I joyfully discovered at a slumber party that I was no longer (or ever had been) allergic to chocolate, due to the giant bowl of M&M's that slept by my sleeping bag, and my not having to be rushed to the hospital. From sixteen years and on, my small disposable income from working at McDonald's couldn't be used to feed my secret chocolate habit, only because my Mom was still worried that chocolate could upset my asthma. When college started a few years later, I came into a small inheritance. With no adult supervision and money rotting in the bank, my immediate goal was to get my hands on some chocolate, and lots of it. And not just any deli counter chocolate; the good stuff. In the pre-internet days, it's a miracle that something like the amazing "Nestlé's International Collection" catalog fell into my greedy little hands, so I ordered up about $150 worth.

Food Magazine Recipes for Dinner

Last weekend I did one of my favorite things, which btw is why I keep having to go to the gym... I went to my friend Jen’s house to whip up some dinner magic using recipes from a few food magazines I had in the house! The meal was delicious, especially the tart.

The video below is a "vlog," or video blog, created for my Digital/Social Media Lab class. Got me thinking about how fun it would be to be on TV doing something like this. I know, should have thought of this 10 years ago.

Click here to watch!

Until we eat again,

Marly

Chocolate Show

A chocolate show is a wonderful thing. Imagine your favorite thing to eat in the whole world and there's a convention about it, with every booth offering free samples of that thing. All people should go to a show featuring their favorite food once in their lives, yet unfortunately not all foods get their own show. Bacon probably wouldn't have its own show. Candy gets its own show sometimes. Chocolate has been getting its own show for years now. My first chocolate show was in November 1998 in New York, when I was a grad student in the Food Studies Master's degree program at NYU.

The Food Studies department posted a notice for volunteers to help out at the popular New York Chocolate Show at Soho's regal Puck Building. The time required to serve was a full Saturday, and we put on white coats and assisted a certain famous French pastry chef during his live chocolate demonstrations. His desserts and cakes are always impressive, however this chef treated us volunteers with disdain that day. I think that's when I learned it's definitely fun to volunteer at a chocolate show, but it's even more fun to be a patron.

Years later I received a complimentary ticket for the same show through the restaurant company I worked at, since one of our pastry chefs was a featured guest. Seeing the show as a human instead of a volunteer led to a higher level of satisfaction all around, as I was no longer chained to one corner of the room and could now explore freely. This was all good with the exception that I did not heed this warning:

**Warning: Taste samples sporadically, not constantly, at a chocolate show or you will have extreme headaches**

(Heck I still wouldn't take that advice. Never ask me to.)

There was another chocolate show I attended with my old friend Chris probably around 2002 after we returned from a trip to Paris. But before I talk about that, let me mention that good chocolate is easy to find in Paris! Chris took me to Angelina’s for their luxe hot chocolate poured from a porcelain pot, and we visited Michael Chaundon’s shop near the Eiffel Tower for cream-filled chocolates so fresh they must always be refrigerated.

Right, so it was after Paris that Chris and I visited a New York chocolate show in a more intimate setting than the Puck Building, in some big gallery in Chelsea. There were some marvelous products at this show, including white chocolate bark with cherries, apricots and pistachios from France, painted artisinal bon bons from Japan and new flavors of Van Gogh chocolate vodka from The Netherlands. And yes, samples were plentiful!

Now the weirdest chocolate show experience I ever had was in October 2005 in Sweden. I happened upon a crazy coincidence one day while researching an upcoming visit to Scandinavia. The purpose of the visit was two-fold: to taste real Danish pastries in Copenhagen, and to visit my Catherine-Deneuve-look-alike friend Kirsten in Oslo (we met at a New York barbecue when she offered me a piece of the lovely Swedish candy called Daim).

After the flights were booked, I did a random online search for chocolate in Sweden. No, Sweden wasn't on the itinerary per se, but I planned to visit the Swedish town of Malmo for a few hours since it was the most accessible Swedish city near Copenhagen and I couldn’t eat Danish ALL the time so a short train trip to the most accessible part of Sweden made sense! So, the online search for "Sweden chocolate" resulted in a wonderful coincidence. During the time of my visit, there was going to be a CHOCOLATE SHOW IN MALMO, SWEDEN!

The 30-minute train ride to Malmo went quickly and in the train station I bought a few Swedish chocolate bars for the wrappers (including the exquisitely wrapped Japonais bar), and promptly ignored the tons of licorice for sale (it’s a thing in Scandinavia, that licorice). Then with purpose and anticipation I walked, a good 30-minute walk, down the cold streets of Malmo to the old brick factory where the chocolate show would be. I found it! That felt awesome.

There was a short line at the door, and the ticket taker was a very attractive Swedish man. (Did I ever tell you about the inherent attractiveness of Scandinavian people? It’s amazing, and as I would soon find out in Oslo, the Norwegians are just as attractive as the Swedes!) The Swedish man was in jeans and a big burly gray sweater, the kind of sweater that belongs at a cozy lodge with you and your (plural) hot toddies by the fire. He was blond, J Crew model-like but without a drip of pretention, and he smiled at me when I asked him if he spoke English.

He nicely explained that the chocolate show ticket price was something like 25 euros. Ack! True I did come to Malmo for this chocolate show (as well as to visit Malmo's "famous International Market Square" down the street), but 25 euros compared to the $15 or even free admission I was used to for larger shows in New York felt like too much here. I mean, it’s not that I needed to go this show. I wanted to, if possible.

I explained my situation to the handsome Swede, that I worked for a restaurant company and loved chocolate and went to many food shows and didn’t really need to see this one after all, thanks anyway. "Where did you travel from?" he asked. I said "Besides Copenhagen? I'm from New York City." Well that’s all it took for him to melt like a big piece of white chocolate in the sun. He lived in New York City once too! And he really wanted to talk to me about that. But what can you do, people kept interrupting, you know, to buy tickets for the chocolate show.

This man graciously decided, under the circumstances, that I should be able to go to the show for free. Really? Wow thank you so much...I accepted the offer and went upstairs. The chocolate show was 1/30th the size of any show I’d been to. It was extremely intimate and lovely, and I deftly walked around the three little rooms in food-show-grazing style, popping through people and accepting the few samples offered. That said, I think I finished the show in 10 minutes. A little embarrassing, yes, but stalling was difficult due to the crowds so all I could really do was leave.

Back downstairs he was surprised to see me so soon! I sincerely thanked him and then he wanted to hear what I thought about the show and wished to continue talking. So did I, then the admission line suddenly grew and he had to take tickets, even though he was flustered that this meant we had to stop chatting. I said “Listen I’m going to walk to the International Market Square which should be a few blocks that way and then will come back.” Relieved, he said okay. I walked a few blocks to that famous square, and immediately noticed that whoever wrote the promotional benefits of visiting Malmo and included the International Market Square as one of those benefits was high on aquavit. There was absolutely nothing to see, no special shops or restaurants or takeout places. The square was desolate, depressing, and kinda closed. Maybe because it was a Sunday? Anyway my little side trip to the square lasted about 30 seconds and then I turned back.

On the walk back to the chocolate show I started to imagine what would happen if I lingered to chat up the chocolate show man. Well, we could have an adventure...he clearly wanted to talk more, so I could invite him to visit me in Copenhagen where I was staying for three more days and he would take the 30-minute train ride from Malmo and meet me for dinner and we would enjoy each other’s company and have drinks and then because I was a single female traveler alone in Scandinavia with a hotel room he might expect more and that might be too risky so..., so, hmm. Boy was he a lovely, intelligent and generous man, however my mind raced in über-precautionary mode. I had no idea what to do.

When I got back to the old brick factory I stopped on the sidewalk and waved hello to him while he was exchanging money frantically with customers. He was very happy to see that I returned. I stood and waited. I got nervous. I imagined a conversation about meeting up later but with no expectations. I decided it was too weird to explain my vulnerabilities to a total stranger. Resolved to eat my dinner alone that night, I got his attention, pointed towards the train station and mouthed the words “I have to go,” then walked away watching him watch me, his frustration clear as he tried to catch me but in the end was trapped taking chocolate show money.

I regret that I did not stay to get to know this person, who only knew me for a few minutes before sneaking me into his chocolate show. What had I been so worried about? He wanted to talk to someone from New York, to reminisce about his old home. Who knows what else, but that at least was real. It’s one of those things where in this day-and-age of Facebook I wish I knew his name because then I could “friend” him and explain why I up and left without a word that day in October 2005 when he worked at the Malmo chocolate show. Nah, I don't think people remember things like I do.

Soon after I was reminded of some lessons: 1) Don't make assumptions about or decisions for other people because you have no idea what they're thinking, and 2) Don't think so much all the time, just go with life when it happens. At least right after seeing the show I had a moment to thank the man for his generosity and tell him how much I enjoyed it.

I haven’t been to a chocolate show since, unless you call the visions of chocolate dancing around my mind each day a chocolate show.

Until we eat again,
Marly

All Hallow’s Chocolate

Hello,
There are two schools of competing thought regarding why I love chocolate...

The first is that my adoration for all-things-Hershey was inborn. As a toddler my favorite word was “candy,” which I proclaimed repeatedly in a certain supermarket aisle probably before I could walk. Favorite game, Candyland; favorite movie, “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” (featuring favorite song, Sammy Davis Jr.’s “Candyman”) and in my humble opinion, Halloween was a much better holiday than a silly old birthday.

You may or may not know the second school of thought, which started in the middle of the night during my 5th year. As the story goes, I woke up asphyxiating and was checked into an oxygen tank because that moment was when I officially inherited my mother’s asthma. I didn’t really mind the hospital stay, because it sorta reminded me of Halloween. You know, I was wearing a costume, and a mask, and one day my mom snuck a Snickers bar into the tank and on another day my dad snuck a Milky Way into the tank. It was heaven! A nice nurse even provided a special treat one day, a thick slice of triple chocolate layer cake that was so good I wondered why I didn’t stay at the hospital more often.

Idiot. On the day I was due to check out, a cranky old doctor gave the test results to my parents and he concluded that I had asthma, plus allergies: to dust, to mold, to trees, to milk, and to chocolate. Wait what did he say? Allergic to chocolate?? “Noooooooooooo!!!” I silently screamed in my shy five-year-old head.

This diagnosis was taken quite seriously by mom, as I was stunned to learn that my after-school Oreos, Yodels, M&M's (my candy initials), Nestle's Quik and Halloween-candied Octobers would be no more. (Well, I was allowed to Trick-or-Treat, but then the chocolate was put away and doled out in teensy portions on special occasions.) So you can probably understand why some believe this sad revelation caused my passion for chocolate to magnify in festering intensity through the years, with dreams of becoming Charlie Bucket teasing me even more!

Many years later, ie. 12, I was invited to a slumber party at Holly Somesuch’s house down the block when I saw it… a non-parentally guarded giant bowl of plain M&M’s that I ever so coolly placed near my sleeping bag. Yes who needs sleep when you can talk about boys while dipping a rogue hand into that fascinating bottomless bowl all night long… Hospital be damned! By the time I sugar-crashed, rumor has it that half that bowl was gone—the equivalent to about 12 oz.—and the obvious end to that tale is I did not in fact wake up dead.

This life-changing discovery (that the doctor was, how do you say it, WRONG?) was exuberantly shared the next day with mom, who got really mad and said what I did was way too risky to repeat. And so it goes, the nurturing of my habit started secretly out of the house. Sometimes in the house too, in my bedroom closet. Now it does help a covert operation if all ducks are in a row—admittedly I had no garbage etiquette then, resulting in empty chocolate bar wrappers strewn about everywhere in my room for people, and mothers, to see. Which she did. And there was a confrontation, and I was so afraid of choco-retribution that I lied in the heat of that moment, confessing that the chocolate had been devoured by my friends, yes really!, and they gave the wrappers to me because "I now collect chocolate bar wrappers."

Well, believe it or not that went more smoothly than expected. Mom either believed me on that fateful day or she’s a damn good actress! In any event, I don't remember which wrappers she found, but the guilt of lying got to me soon after, so the collecting part started seriously then and I brought home a first wrapper (Twix bar), and a second (Cadbury Easter egg), and a third (Reese’s peanut butter cup Easter egg) just to make things right. After that, it’s all a blur.

Through the years, friends and strangers have sent wrappers for the collection, particularly Stanislav Kramsky in Prague, who in the 1980’s had 60,000 wrappers and sent me some awesome factory-condition ones from the Czech Republic and the USSR. I’d like to eventually visit Prague and stop by his mini chocolate museum, where hopefully he won’t remember me as “that American girl who sent only a pittance of some stupid American wrappers in return for the hundred or so I sent!” (It's not my fault, there were only limited resources available at the time!!)

If you're curious, the way the collection has grown is by picking up lots of chocolate bars when traveling. Friends pick them up too (thank you!), and I also received some from a pen pal during the Gulf War but for the life of me can’t find them (though one can assume they’re probably the ones with the Arabic writing).

These days there are thousands of wrappers in the collection, and two newspaper articles and one radio interview about this habit. And I still love chocolate, more than ever, perhaps due to a gigantic time-space-continuum hiccup in my chocolate consumption past, or simply because I was born to love it.

(Hershey's) Kiss,
Marly

My Recchiuti Confession

Well hello. This week's post is simply something I wrote for a monthly contest in April 2006 when I was still a New Yorker, and it won the contest in February 2007. While enjoying a new Snickers Dark bar tonight I just realized, dear readers, that most of you have not read this.

The contest was for Recchiuti Confections in San Francisco, my favorite U.S. chocolate company (see link at right), and the prize was a glorious black box ($40 value, see left). When I never heard from Recchiuti after sending this in, I thought I didn't win and was like, hello? But as it turns out, they were saving my passionate letter for their Valentine's issue (copy-edited way down of course) and I received my black box while at USC and I think I may have shared, oh, 2 pieces. So here it is...my full-length chocolate missive, containing factual events and slightly exaggerated feelings (you'll never know how I truly felt, now will you ;)

My Recchiuti Confession – a true story, by Marly Miller, Brooklyn NY

I wasn’t looking to fall in love with chocolate. The only plan for my two vacation days in San Francisco before heading north was to unwind from the daily grind of New York living.

The Ferry Building’s a foodie mecca, hmm? That’s what the concierge said. Perfect! So I wandered over for a quick visit and you know how it works – when you least expect it, that’s when you meet your soulmate. That’s what happened to me in the Ferry Building that sunny June day. That’s when I met you, Recchiuti. You weren’t your average kind of chocolate shop, you. Reserved and subtle yet mysteriously beckoning, you were like a hip computer geek sequestering your passion, bestowing it only upon those who are worthy of your greatness. In that moment it was clear, I had to know you.

Our first moments together were rather dreamy. You had me at Fleur de Sel caramels. The emotional wave was carried forward with the honeycomb-design topped Sesame Nougat, then you sealed the deal with the Kona Coffee pyramid. I was elated! Even though we’d just met, I took you back to my hotel room where time passed in blissful discovery of your single-origin varietals. We had a beautiful night together, and then you were gone. Seriously, who knew it could be this good between a woman and her chocolate?

The next morning I wondered, how can it be that such a love exists, only so far from home? Figured the feeling would dissipate as I traveled up to the Culinary Institute, Greystone for a week of wine study. It wasn’t easy, though. I thought of you more often than Brix counts, and kept thinking things like, “If only you were here to pair with that great Pinot blend from Sonoma.”

One afternoon on St. Helena’s main drag I walked past a local chocolate store and sniggered in contempt at their confections braggingly displayed in the window. “Ha! So you think you’re a chocolate store!” Oh I did not betray you, my love, I did not yield to the temptation of another; my heart was yours! Okay, I did yield to a chocolate malted at Taylor’s, and a slice of chocolate marshmallow pie at Cindy’s, but please don’t accuse me of cheating! What’s a girl to do until she can get close to you again?! It was a shake and a dessert, not bon bons. No, never bon bons!

Days – ages – later, back in San Fran I couldn’t just skip through to the airport without saying goodbye. Not after learning the week before that no matter how much I loved you – and no matter how much you wanted me to love you – you in fact would not be moving to New York any time soon. So back to the Ferry Building I ran ever so nonchalantly to pick up some airplane sustenance – a hand-picked collection of all your caramels including the rose, burnt and limited edition passion fruit. While paying for my affection I pined, “But Scharffenberger is moving to New York!” You were resolute, “Sorry, there are no plans for us to open a store in New York at this time.” Fine! Fine. Didn’t take it personally. All I know is that’s when I knew I’d been living a lie and was actually one of those girls who chocolate settles. That all changed after I met you.

Back home in New York I couldn’t stop talking about you so of course all my friends couldn’t wait to meet you! I didn’t know how to spell you so it took awhile to find you on Google. Then I found you! *sigh* It felt a little better knowing that if I truly couldn’t live without you I could just order online. But shame on you, Recchiuti, getting me all crazy with those glimmering images of candy on the web, followed up by those awesome promotional postcards in the mail. Ahh, you were so close yet so far.

Life went on – it was a very vanilla existence – until a phantasmagoric trinity of luck was bestowed upon me that could only have been the result of answered prayers!

1) Inadvertently in Soho one day I found you at the candy counter in Dean & Deluca, my eyes ka-boing-ing upon seeing that very familiar circular disk with a honeycomb pattern on top – the Sesame Nougat! And a Kona Coffee pyramid was right next to it! No, Could It Really Be Recchiuti?? There were only a few bon bons for sale – you tease! – but I don’t believe in pride. That’s right, I bought you and we went to a movie (a chick flick). Our unexpected day together was quite bittersweet (literally). Yes that day renewed my love for you in full (not chocolate-related) bloom. When you were gone I wondered when I would ever see you again.

2) Weeks later a friend announced he was traveling to San Francisco. I grabbed his collar and pleaded, “Oh please you MUST bring me back some Recchiuti Fleur de Sel caramels!! And buy some for yourself, for I will not share!” Yes, I could have ordered online, but I really wanted my friend to meet you too. The following week he returned to New York… with a box of Fleur de Sel caramels with my name on it! Dang life was good!

3) If that wasn’t enough, Christmas was around the corner and some colleagues asked me a very silly question, “Marly, what’s your favorite brand of chocolate?” Like they didn’t already know, come on! I gently reminded them of you, hoping secretly they were not playing a cruel holiday prank and a week later you arrived in full glory! A box of Fleur de Sel caramels, a box of limited-edition chocolates and a S’mores Kit. Indeed it was an amazing day! We ran back to my apartment together and laughed and laughed, as that’s the effect of consuming mass quantities of natural-occurring amphetamines.

The season had evolved into a New York Recchiuti-loving girl’s dream come true! You, in several incarnations, were finally with me in New York, my Recchiuti-sweetened bloodstream giddily flowed as my unrequited choco-passion for you was finally sated. That Christmas was a testament to our ultimate compatibility – there was no turning back now! We were indeed soulmates and would definitely be sharing a very happy chocolate life together forevermore.

Chocolate with a dash of vanilla irony

At left is the chocolate stash now in my house. The next time you see me I will be several chocolate pounds heavier and quite happy about it.


There are some people who choose the flavor of chocolate over vanilla every time. Ironically, most of the chocolate we eat in desserts or candy contains vanilla, as an additive used to bring out the flavor of chocolate. One exception is a French chocolate bar named Chocolat Bonnat, and it's a fantastic discovery once you taste a 75% dark chocolate bar without vanilla and realize the influence vanilla has had on your chocolate taste buds all these years. (Btw I can't seem to find this for sale online now, so if in San Fran visit Cocoa Bella in the Westfield San Fran Center on Market & 4th.)

That is one of the great chocolate & vanilla ironies. The other is that people assume I prefer all-chocolate desserts when in fact lately I prefer chocolate in its unadulterated form, as pure chocolate candy, not whipped into a cloying mega-triple-fudge-whatever-it-is- with-fudge-and-chips-on-top. There is no particular reason for this revised palate preference, it just is, which is why I'm giving you the news now so you don't call me a choco-Benedict Arnold at some dessert time in our future. (Or perhaps the future is the next paragraph...)

In any event! This is why on Saturday night at the lovely SF restaurant Coi--their bar is a long plank of wood with stools facing a wall; there is no liquor or bartender there--when given a choice of a deep chocolate parfait with lime or a warm vanilla cake with strawberries for dessert, I chose the latter. The warm and buttery vanilla-flecked cake was really wonderful, a reverse molten chocolate cake. More restaurants should serve this, it's still considered rare and reminds you of how good a vanilla dessert can be.

And while we're talking about chocolate, if any LA-ers would like to take a stab at my Chocword Puzzle (a crossword puzzle about chocolate), just give a holler!

Next up: The Fried Chicken Report