Migros: Cremant

My traveling buddy -- and by that I mean my buddy who travels, not my buddy with whom I travel, because I haven't traveled very much recently beyond my usual New York-Massachusetts-New Jersey circuit -- brought this bar home to me from Switzerland! Migros is one of Switzerland's biggest supermarket chains, I guess, and being that Switzerland is the sort of unofficial chocolate capital of Europe, I had reasonably high hopes for this dark milk bar.

Migros: Cremant
Cocoa content: 53%
Notable ingredients: n/a
Origin: n/a

So the French word cremant sort of translates to.. creaming? That can't be right. Let's hope not. This bar was, however, exceptionally creamy, and it absolutely exceeded my expectations for what supermarket chocolate could accomplish. The last supermarket-brand chocolate bar I had on this blog was from Tesco, and that turned out to be a chalky, graceless nightmare. I'm thankful for this vast improvement. Plus, I love the packaging -- what the hell are those things, Raisinettes!?

This was a melty, full-bodied treasure. I loved the velvety, dense -- here I want to say "mouthfeel" but I won't -- you get the idea. This was dark milk chocolate at its best! This is a bar that I'd expect from a chocolate company -- not from a chain supermarket. But you know what, I've encountered surprises left and right in this crazy world: did you know Brody Jenner is dating Avril Lavigne!? Things are not always what they seem.

The Cremant bar has restored my faith in the existence of really good supermarket-brand chocolate. Cheers to that! A-.

Cocoa Bean Chocolate Co.: Gin & Tonic

It's no secret that I've been pretty delinquent about buying chocolate recently, which is why I am here to write about a 1-year-old Irish chocolate bar that has been collecting chalky choco-dust in my chocolate box (yup) for some time. I promise -- the next month will be a more fruitful one, as just last night I acquired a whopping 4 (!) new chocolate bars. Oh, and I saw Pavement. Basically everything is going to be more fruitful from now on. But anyway -- here I am, having eaten this gin & tonic flavored bar and wanting at least to report on it, if not to relive it.

Cocoa Bean Chocolate Co.: Gin & Tonic
Cocoa content: 70%
Notable ingredients: juniper berries; lime zest
Origin: n/a

Now, don't get me wrong, I like a gin & tonic -- I like it in a cup, fool! With ice and lime! Who the hell decided that a chocolate bar should taste like a highball cocktail, though? I guess it shouldn't surprise us that the answer to that is -- an Irish person. From County Kerry, no less. Come to think of it, the only other alcohol-inspired chocolate bar I've ever had was also purchased in Ireland. That would be the Lindt Irish Coffee bar and, well, we saw how successful that was.

Well, I have fine memories of ordering many gin & tonics while I was abroad in Ireland. Over there, they serve you a shot of gin in a glass along with an adorable mini Schweppes bottle of tonic water that you're supposed to add to the gin as you see fit. That was great. This bar, not so much. Granted, I let it sit around for a year, but that doesn't excuse the off-putting synthetic lime taste and odd piney flavor of the crushed juniper berries.

The back of the package reads: "Perfectly acceptable at any time of day." And judging from the fact that my Irish University's college bar opened at 11am, that's not really saying much. C-.

Berkshire Bark: Jumpin' Java

Here's another Berkshire Bark bar from Dave's Fresh Pasta in Somerville, MA -- if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right? But there's actually a ton of great specialty food shopping in that little city, and many interesting little shopping districts that I never knew about in high school because they weren't on the Red Line. Behold: Jumpin' Java.

Berkshire Bark: Jumpin' Java
Cocoa content: unlisted (guess: 60%)
Notable ingredients: Brace yourself -- roasted almonds; espresso toffee; crushed coffee beans; caramelized nibs
Origin: n/a

Now, I'll forgive Berkshire Bark for the corny name "Jumpin' Java," which is perhaps even cornier than the last Berkshire Bark product I had -- "Pretzelogical" -- but, hey, at least this time I was prepared! And, to be honest, this bar was jumpin'. This was a monstrous hunk of chocolate filled to the brim with whole almonds, amazingly delicious homemade toffee, and lots of roasted coffee flavor. I'm not crazy about coffee-flavored things in general, but there was so much sugar happening here that the acidity I usually object to was neutralized.

The only thing that was decidedly unpleasant about this bar was that it's impossible to break off pieces of it. For those of us who eat chocolate in a civilized manner, bit by bit, night after night, with attention to the subtlest of details, the unsegmented design of the bar was kind of difficult to deal with. It's basically just a hunk of thick, densely packed chocolate, with nary an easy-breaking line in sight. Berkshire Bark should sell these snacks in little bite-sized pieces, all contained in a bag, but then -- alas -- I might never have Known it.

All in all, a delectable bar from a delectable state. B+.

Skipping a Week

Dear Readers:

A combination of obscenely hot weather and beginning-of-school busyness (is that a word?) has demoted chocolate Knowing to about the 4th item on my to-do list, and lord knows that means it didn't get done. I promise I'll be back next week when I've had a chance to procure something new, sit back, and nibble thoughtfully.

In the meantime, however, I will tell you that I had a Take 5 bar for the very first time, and that it was otherworldly. I definitely recommend it.

MarieBelle: Madagascar

This bar traveled all around the New York metro area, only to end up in my mouth -- Michael bought it in the MarieBelle Soho store and took it home to me in northern New Jersey, at which point I ate a few pieces of it, packed it back up, and took it back over to New York -- further North this time, to Bronxville.

MarieBelle: Madagascar
Cocoa content: 70%
Notable ingredients: n/a
Origin: Madagascar

Of its Madagascar bar, MarieBelle claims that bars of gold could not be finer. And I'd have to agree with them -- everything about this bar, including the pretty fold-out packaging and the exceptional snap and richness and sweetness was perfect. MarieBelle sells such amazing chocolate! I've never encountered even a slightly offensive or overdone taste in any of their products. This Madagascar bar was distinctive and perfectly balanced.

This is only the third single-origin bar from Madagascar that I've featured on this blog, and it looks like they have a pretty good track record with me. It's amazing that there's such a huge difference in flavor between beans from Madagascar and those from Ghana and other surrounding countries -- it leads me to believe that the proximity of particular plants and crops really does influence the way the beans taste.

Sorry for the generally uninteresting post -- being back at college in 95 degree weather has displaced chocolate from my list of top priorities. I hope my enthusiasm about this bar comes across regardless. A.

Fatty Crab: Fatty Bar Milk

A recent meal at Fatty Crab on the Upper West Side concluded with this exciting treat, created exclusively for Fatty Crab by Tumbador Chocolates. Fatty's dessert menu consists of this and one other Fatty Bar, the dark variety, made with roasted almonds, chili, and sea salt. Somehow, after hot pickles, steamed pork buns, and soft-shell crab, dark chocolate just seemed too conservative a choice with which to cap off the meal. Although I almost changed my mind when our waiter mentioned that the chocolate/chili combo was "a little out there, but surprisingly good!" DOES HE KNOW WHO I AM.

Fatty Crab: Fatty Bar Milk
Cocoa content: unknown
Notable ingredients: candied ginger; puffed rice
Origin: n/a

Puffed rice: welcome! You are always welcome here! And that's part of why I ordered this bar. But my waiter didn't even mention ginger, and, judging from the prevalence of said spice on this blog, I would say that was a pretty welcome addition, too. The bar was thick and dense like a candy bar, with a much more complicated flavor profile and an interesting textural experience what with the chewy ginger sharing space with crispy rice.

Also, I wish you could see the wrapper more clearly because it's adorable: there are little crabs and prawns all over it. If I remember correctly, it came on a little plate and looked positively blog-worthy; alas, all who have been to this restaurant know that it is too dark to take photos, especially with a cheap phone camera.

At the restaurant, we ate about 2/3 of the bar and I wrapped the rest of it back up for enjoying later, and we didn't even notice that our waiter took it back to the kitchen with him when he went to run my credit card! Luckily, he was back a moment later when he realized the wrapper still contained chocolate. For the meal and the bar, A-.

Lake Champlain: Tanzania

Lately, I've been having some trouble finding the time to really get to Know my bars. I Know not, and I have too little time to report -- what I don't Know. But thank God, some bars aren't really worth Knowing. I never waste too much time getting to Know those bars. Is that a sin?

It's not a sin, per say. But it's certainly an afront to Lake Champlain Chocolates, a company that deems its product worth Knowing.

Lake Champlain: Tanzania

Cocoa content: 75%

Notable ingredients: n/a

Origin: Tanzania

Who is responsible for this blunder: Lake Champlain, or the Tanzanians? I'm going to go with Lake Champlain, because not only did they produce this bar, but they also totally misrepresented it online: intense and creamy? Fruity and floral?

Readers, this bar tasting like nothing. It tasted like not a single thing under the sun. Granted, it wasn't exactly new, but having sat in a box for a few months is no excuse for the stunning lack of flavor. It was like -- no, it was not like anything -- but the experience of eating it recalled cardboard; cheap whole-wheat bread; the casing of a Reese's Cup, if there were not a trace of peanut butter involved.

So, what's worse, for a chocolate to taste distinctively bad, or to taste of nothing? I'm going to go the neutral road on this one because I've Known far, far worse than this boring misstep. C.