is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Recchiuti Love.
I really, really love Recchiuti chocolate. (And yes, I have written about it many many times in this diary here. I just did a search and learned that I've written about Recchiuti 16 times in the last three years.) But the existence of Recchiuti chocolate in my refrigerator in New York has made me think a bit about my relationship to things I love. (Note: love for chocolate is not the same as love for a human being. But, though there is a world of difference, I suspect there is some overlap as well. I'll leave that underexamined for now.)
As you know, my excellent cousin Adam bought me the Black Box for xmas this year, which pleased me to no end. And then my lovely Gus bought me a high-value gift card for Recchiuti, so I went on down to the store and loaded up with dark chocolate covered key lime pears, bittersweet chocolate sauce, burnt caramel sauce, and various other treats.
Thing is, the Black Box still has two truffles left in it, there in my refrigerator. And it was presented to me on DECEMBER 24. So what does this say about me? When there was PLENTY of Recchiuti chocolate in the refrigerator, I was eating a number of pieces of it every day. But as the supply dwindled, I started saving what was left for better moments. Like a break from a hard day of writing. Or a way of marking an accomplishment. Or a pick-me-up.
Right now, there in my refrigerator, waits for me the Force Noir and the Pink Peppercorn Star Anise truffle that come in the Black Box. Many of you will already know that the Pink Peppercorn Star Anise truffle is my VERY FAVORITE OF ALL.
And there it has sat, in the Black Box, since December. Perhaps I will eat it tomorrow.
So, I'm the kind of person--and this was true when I was a kid, too--who eats the stuff on the plate she likes least first, so that she can save the better parts for last. Not everyone does that. I'm not saying this is anything good or bad about me. It just is.
I contrast it, in my mind, to the firm belief held by my dear friend Liz, that if 1 cupcake is really really good, then 4 cupcakes is four times better. (And I also think, often, of the time I was about to toss the remaining cinnamon frosting in the trash after frosting some chocolate-chipotle cupcakes, and Liz saw what I was about to do and did one of those crazy lunges to save the frosting, such as would have appeared in slow motion with a drawn out "Nooooooo!" if it were in a movie. That was an excellent moment in the rich history of the kitchen of my San Francisco apartment. And then she ate most of the frosting. And then she had a stomach ache.) Liz has always been more about DOING IT NOW than I am. It's one of the many many reasons I like her so much.
If only it were easier to get one's hands on some Recchiuti artistry here in Brooklyn. Of course I'm on their email list, and I was happy to learn that they've started a new line of small chocolates, like chocolate covered cherries, burnt caramel almonds, and the like. I especially wanted that bag of Asphalt Jungle Mix that retails for an affordable $12, and contains a mixture of Burnt Caramel Hazelnuts & Burnt Caramel Almonds, two kinds of chocolate-covered cherries, and Peanut Butter Pearls. I decided I could treat myself! $12!
Then I checked my shopping cart and learned that the lowest price for shipping is $20. I even wrote them a little note suggesting that maybe they need to institute a new shipping option specifically for those items, and complimenting Michael on his marshmallow recipe. A manager wrote a kind note back, but $20 it is. Something about the cost of overnight shipping and being unwilling to compromise quality with other shipping methods. Well, we all knew they were fancy.
So, anyway, no Asphalt Jungle for me, except for the fact that I live in Brooklyn, which maybe is its own Asphalt Jungle, but less tasty. A person who might have to declare bankruptcy is not allowed to pay $20 shipping for an already too-fancy $12 bag of chocolate!
And so I wait until my next trip to SF. In the meantime I made some yummy french vanilla pudding and ate one Force Noir truffle. It's not so bad.
But still... why the hoarding? I think somewhere deep in the unplumbed part of my otherwise examined life, is a fear that I won't be able to hang on to the things I love (this applies to people), or that once they are gone, there will be nothing to replace them (this applies to chocolate, and certain shoes and dresses which, though I love them to death, I rarely wear, because what if they get ruined? and so on). I guess I should think more about what it means sometime. For now I'll just appreciate the fact that I've still got some freaking Recchiuti chocolate in refrigerator RIGHT NOW.
10:17 p.m. - March 26, 2009
Soon-to-be NYC cousin - 2009-03-27 03:57:36
I must try this chocolate.
-------------------------------
sduckie - 2009-03-27 04:10:20
Well I have that in common with you. I eat what I don't like first, and save what I love to savor last. And I save my favorite outfits for "special days" because, even though they are my faves, I don't want to wear them on a day when they're "wasted" or something... not sure... but wanted to tell you that you're not the only one! :)
-------------------------------
Vladimir Estragon - 2009-03-27 07:54:13
When my father-in-law died, at age 81, he had several unopened shirts in his dresser drawer, which he had been "saving." There's a lesson in that, people.
-------------------------------
js - 2009-03-27 15:15:49
There is a lesson in that. But unopened shirts can stand for lots of different things. If they stand for not living fully, it's sad. But that's not the only thing they might signify. (But I am not doubting Mr Estragon's take on his f-i-l's shirts.) (And that abbreviation makes a strange Franglish freudian slip or something.)
But cleaning out the drawers of someone who has died is, among other things, very interesting. Doing that for my grandmother made me think a lot about what I'll leave behind.
-------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
|
