Tuesday

Posh or common? Or a little of both?

The sweet you can eat between meals without ruining your appetite. Remember that? 

How about:
What's got a hazelnut in every bite? 
Full of Eastern promise? 
Only the crumbliest, flakiest chocolate, tastes like chocolate never tasted before? 
They melt in your mouth not in your hand? 
A taste of paradise?

Treat yourself to a Milky Way, a Topic, a Fry's Turkish Delight, a Cadbury's Flake, a bag of Minstrels or a Bounty if you flaunted your age and got all six right. One or two jingles are probably ear-worming you as you read. Anyone who answered the second with 'squirrel shit', pull up your socks and go stand in the corner of the class!

(The links make for an intriguing chocolate history on both sides of the Atlantic.)

Then there were the unmistakeables. A finger of fudge is just enough to give your kids a treat. The Milky Bars are on me! And, the Bond-fuelled height of romance and sophistication (I was only 10 when it first came out): All because the lady loves Milk Tray.

Which is a neat segue to the elegant chocolates someone bought me last week:


They looked gorgeous: all whipped curves and fine tracery of piping, a constellation of gold dust on the orange heart. They felt gorgeous: a paper thin chocolate case, the imprinted medallion. But they tasted of confusion, like a bag of flavour hammers noisily competing for the attention of my taste buds. Of bewildering complexity, like University Challenge questions on advanced mathematics where I don't even understand the question. Enough for me to take a break, take a Kit-Kat.

In the 1980s, when I was living in St. Helier in Jersey, when the availability of Belgian Chocolates was the delightful exception rather than the predictable norm, I used to treat myself to hand-made chocolate truffles from a store whose name has been forgotten in the mists of Dry Martini & Soda. de Gruchys? Voisins? Neither of them fold comfortably into the pocket of memory that preserves those white chocolates made with fresh cream and flavoured with vanilla. Lindt's happy little white chocolate balls come the closest to imitating their taste, if not their fluffy texture, and rekindling that memory.


But despite my enjoyment of some 'grown-up' chocolate, of chilli and sea-salt and wasabi flavours infused into tablets of 70% + cocoa content, there is still something in my genes that pleads every now and then for a Galaxy, a Crunchie, a triangle of Toblerone, or a packet of Munchies whose biscuit hearts, I am sure, are diminishing with the years. Or an original Cadbury's Boost (made with coconut and caramel not the later peanuts or biscuit), that made my gums ache from the chewing and the absorption of sugar. But in a good way.  


Hungry Writing Prompts
  1. Write about something you were not allowed to do as a child.
  2. Write about what confuses you.
  3. Write a list of romantic gestures.
  4. Write about growing up.
  5. Write about aching.