My husband went on a business trip to Paris last week and took the time to go to my favorite chocolatier, Pierre Hermé, on rue Bonaparte. He got me a box of tiny chocolate creations, which I slowly devoured lost in reverie. It's been way, WAY, too long since my palate felt that kind of extatic pleasure from chocolate. Brilliance, roundness, intense flavors, the crunch of the brittle coating that gives way as you bite into it...then the chocolate melts in your mouth, it's tender texture triggering a cascade of aromas, a lingering aftertaste that sings in your body as if it were a precious musical instrument! It became instantly clear that I have become too indulgent with what L.A. has to offer in European food traditions, especially chocolates, joining the singsong that after all, there is some decent stuff out there. Truth is, I have not been worthy of my name foodbitch.
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