Tag Archives: chocolate

April Gutierrez Review: Reese’s Peanut Butter Candy: A Guilty Pleasure

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Review by April Gutierrez: “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter! You got your peanut butter in my chocolate!”

Admit it, you’ve got a guilty pleasure or two. We all do. Maybe it’s greasy burgers from the dive joint around the corner from your office. Maybe it’s spaghetti westerns or Japanese kaiju movies. Or racy romance novels. Whatever form it may take, we all find delight in something that perhaps we feel we shouldn’t because it’s  against our sensibilities, runs the risk of ridicule, or just plain isn’t good for us.

And so, I have a confession to make. Yes, I have a problem. And that problem’s name is Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. I’m the person at Hallowe’en who looks at the bowl of candy designated for trick-or-treaters and asks, plaintively, “Could we hold the Reese’s in reserve? Or at least hide them on the bottom of the bowl?” and who will blatantly pilfer from the bowl throughout the evening. And if there’s any left over? Bliss!

I could, in a heartbeat, give up the entirety of American mass-produced chocolate (so much of which is of Hershey’s manufacture), so long as I can keep the creamy, chocolaty, salty goodness that is Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. In fact, I might be willing to sell a friend or two out for a steady supply of the things. And it’s not just me, I have a Japanese friend who stocks up when she comes to the States, and is desperate enough that she’s going to try making some of her own in the near future.

Why, you might ask? What’s so addictive about a simple chocolate shell filled with peanut butter? Well, in my case, it’s that chocolate and peanut butter are two of my absolute favorite foods, period.  We’re not talking a simple fondness for, but outright devotion. Chocolate is self-explanatory, I think, and peanut butter? Mm, salty, crunchy goodness (all hail today’s organic peanut butter that is 100% peanuts!). Put the two together and you get a sweet ‘n salty bit of heaven. Personally, I think the person who first decided chocolate and peanut butter were “two great tastes that go together” deserves sainthood.

As does Cat, who cheerfully sent me a variety of Reese’s products to devour –- er, review. So we have Reese’s Milk Chocolate Cups, Reese’s Dark Cups, Reese’s new Minis, Reese’s Fast Break bar and Reese’s Pieces. I’m grateful for the lack of white chocolate cups, as that’s just … wrong. (Really, don’t get me started on how white chocolate ain’t chocolate. It’s quite the rant.)

How do I eat my Reese’s? In a couple of bites each, though I should’ve nibbled to savor them.

First up were the dark chocolate cups, as they’re my favorites. I’m not sure of the cocoa content of the dark cups, but it’s probably not much over 50%. Regardless, it does make for an entirely different taste when compared with the milk chocolate cups. Sugar’s a prime ingredient in all of Reese’s products, including the dark chocolate. Normally I’d find this annoying, but the slight sweetness of the dark chocolate against the creamy saltiness of the peanut butter is a little taste of heaven. The chocolate serves as an enhancement to the peanut butter, making the salty taste pop in all the right ways. By contrast, the milk chocolate doesn’t work as well as it’s a bit too bland (think your average Hershey’s milk chocolate) to enhance much of anything, even something with a contrasting taste. Still, I wouldn’t turn away free milk chocolate cups, and indeed, I didn’t!

Next up was a product I’ve been dubious about since I first heard about it – the Fast Break candy bar, which has layers of peanut butter and nougat covered with milk chocolate. Being somewhat of a purist, I didn’t see a need to add nougat into the mix. Why ruin a good thing? I tossed this in the freezer before trying it, which resulted in a satisfying crunch to go with the salty sweetness. The bar is, in fact, quite tasty, but makes me think more of a Snickers bar -– less the actual peanuts -– than a Reese’s product. Nice for a one-time thing, but if I’m craving this particular flavor combo, I’d probably go for the aforementioned Snickers.

The wrapperless milk chocolate minis are a new product for Reese’s. They came in a “king”-sized bag and there seem to be quite a few of them (no, I didn’t count as I was popping them into my mouth one after another; nor did I even consider checking the caloric content…). Apparently, there’s an even larger bag available, presumably for those who are kind enough to share their Reese’s. While the minis are still just milk chocolate, they proved to be tasty little morsels. Perhaps it’s because they’re gone so quickly, just a momentary burst of flavor on the tongue, that they seemed to taste better than the full-sized milk chocolate cups. I do have to wonder what a dark chocolate version might taste like.

Last, though by no means least, were a bag of Reese’s Pieces, which are candy-coated bites of peanut butter.  No chocolate to speak of with the pieces, but there is a lot of creamy peanut butter, set off by the crunch of the candy shell.  Probably because of the lack of any real chocolate, the pieces are a bit on the sweet side and not enough of the salty tang that should be there. Still, they’ve got a good mouth feel and they are peanutty enough to be enjoyable should you not have any of the cups available for snacking on.

Reese’s are by no means high quality chocolate. In fact, the chocolate itself tends to be a bit crumbly. And we simply won’t discuss the sugar and fat content of either the chocolate or the peanut butter. But these simple candies have no pretentions of being anything more than they are -– a yummy blend of two great tastes. There are imitators and wanna-bes, but nothing beats a good Reese’s cup when you’re craving peanut butter and chocolate, that’s for damn sure! 

Thanks! 

April Gutierrez, Japanese fan. A Green Man Review reviewer. A life-long lover of chocolate and felines, she indulges in the former frequently and shares her abode with a rather spoiled specimen of the latter. She can most commonly be found with her nose buried in a book, a cup of good tea in hand and Japanese pop music playing in the background.

Maria Nutick Review: Celebrate with Chocolate

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Celebrate with Chocolate by Marcel Desaulniers (HarperCollins, 2002)

Review by Maria Nutick: This is one of the most sensually exciting cookbooks that I’ve ever had the pleasure of adding to my collection. Aside from being an accomplished chef and restaurateur, Desaulniers is a very fine writer. Celebrate with Chocolate is not just a collection of recipes, it’s a good read.

As a cookbook, this has all of the necessary and relevant sections: a comprehensive and very instructive discussion of equipment, common ingredients, and useful techniques; separate chapters entitled “Cakes”, “Cookies”, “Frozen Desserts”, and “Mousses, Candies, and Other Chocolate Treats”, and even a page of online resources for recipes, ingredients, and kitchenware. The book is laid out logically, cooking instructions within each recipe are incredibly detailed, and the hardcover with good sturdy heavy grade paper is just made for heavy use in the kitchen (though admittedly glossy stock would make wiping off the inevitable spills a bit easier). Full color high-gloss pages in the center of the book capture twenty recipes in luscious photographs that will have you salivating in no time at all.

As I said, though, Desaulniers’ writing is a joy to read. “Heavy cream,” he says, “a.k.a. whipping cream, is luscious and luxurious on the palate, somewhat like a butterfly alighting on a stamen.” Oh, my, yes. How about a wedding cake described as “…a magical reprise of lips smeared with buttercream, whispering promises soon to be requited?” Of his Black Mamba cookies, he opines “proffering these profoundly chocolate cookies leads to dangerous liaisons.” The man is an artist with words as well as with pastry. A word of caution, though — while Celebrate with Chocolate is brilliantly designed and written, many of the recipes, such as Caramel Orange-Chocolate Orange Masquerade Ice Cream Terrine or the exotic sounding Champagne Fritters with Chocolate Grape Surprise and Sparkling Cream, are indeed as complicated as their names suggest. This is not a cookbook that I would recommend for a beginner.

Maria Nutick grew up in Central Oregon. She began questioning consensual reality at a very young age, and so her Permanent Record notes that she Did Not Apply Herself and Had Trouble Working Up To Her Full Potential. She sometimes Did Not Play Well With Others. In college, of course, she majored in Liberal Arts.

In the interest of Making Ends Meet she has done everything from baking to managing a theater. She lives in Portland, Oregon with the Furry Horde: 3 cats (Thor, Lucifer, and Moonshine), 2 dogs (Karma and Mojo), and 1 husband. She’s an artsy craftsy type, and — oh horrors — a poet.

Her favorite writers are Holly Black, Emma Bull, Zenna Henderson, Charles De Lint, Parke Godwin, Terri Windling, Sheri S. Tepper, Will Shetterly, and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough. She highly recommends, if you happen to be blue or just having a bad day, that you try listening to Silly Wizard’s “The Queen of Argyll”, Boiled in Lead’s “Rasputin”, and most importantly Tears for Beers’ “Raggle Taggle Gypsy” and “Star of the County Down”. It’s hard to be sad while dancing with wild abandon. At least, Maria thinks so.

Elizabeth Bear Review: Dean’s Sweets — Chocolate from Portland

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By Elizabeth Bear: Portland seems to me one of the quintessential New England seacoast towns. With its long streets of red masonry buildings and its quirky alleyways, coffeeshops, and squares, it’s a fine place to spend a wandering day.

It makes sense to me that one of the best local New England chocolates I’ve tried should make its home here.

Dean’s Sweets provided us with a box of four plain dark chocolate truffles and no fanfare. Due to technical difficulties, I didn’t manage to photograph them, so you will have to take my word that they were lovely, with an appealing luster and a good color, presented in an unpretentious little translucent plastic box with a ribbon tie.

After the last two reviews I’ve done, I was starting to wonder if maybe my standards for good chocolate were unrealistically high. But one deep breath of the aroma rising from the Dean’s box renewed my faith in my judgment. It was rich, complex, and absolutely redolent of chocolate.

Nor did the truffles themselves disappoint. Where too often chocolate proclaiming itself top-tier is waxy, overly crisp, fruity, or shallow, this was the real experience. The Dean’s truffles are full of buttery, rich ganache, nuanced in flavor, with spicy vanilla notes.

Apparently, Dean’s believes that it’s better to put a top-quality chocolate inside the wrapper than to splash marketing superlatives all over the outside. And I have to say, I agree completely.

The box of four didn’t actually last long enough for me to offer any to my roommate. I felt vindicated–and very, very satisfied.

Robert Tilendis Review: Brooklyn Born Chocolate’s Holy Molé

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Review by Robert Tilendis: At first glance, the idea of chocolate laced with spices more often found in South American cuisine might seem a little off-putting. But hey, they’re all from South America, so there’s got to be some affinity there, right?

Brooklyn Born Chocolate, although currently based in New Jersey, was, indeed, originally in Brooklyn, New York. Executive Pastry Chefe François Bonnet is noted for blending exotic ingredients — fruit, nuts, and spices — with very “normal” counterparts — in the case of their Holy Molé, caramelized Rice Krispies.

Holy Molé comes in a 2.1 oz (60 g) bar scored into six squares. Aside from the chocolate, which is 72% cacao, the ingredients include almond, toffee bits, chile blend spices (pasilla, casabel, ancho, mulato), sesame seeds, and fleur de sel.

Ah, but how does it taste? It’s fairly brittle, but tends to, as they say, melt in your mouth. The overriding taste is chocolate, slightly bitter, with, ultimately, a buttery feel and an underlying saltiness. And, in spite of what you might think from the name (and the ingredients), it’s not particularly spicy — just a sort of tingly aftertaste (but be warned: that tingle builds up the more of it you eat).

All in all, it’s an interesting variation on your basic dark chocolate, but for those not overly fond of spicy foods, best enjoyed in moderation.

Joseph Thompson Review: Making Whoopies

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Making Whoopies: The Official Whoopie Pie Book by Nancy Thompson (Down East, 2010)

Review by Joseph Thompson: Not much riles Mainers more than challenging them on the origin their food pyramid cornerstone: the whoopie pie. One who mentions Pennsylvania’s claim to that chocolate and cream confection risks being run out of town on a lobster boat.

It’s been done before for a whole lot less. With the fight brewing between Maine and Pennsylvania as to who gets to name the whoopie pie as their official state dessert or treat, it’s easy to imagine it’ll happen again soon. All this political williwaw makes Nancy Griffin’s Making Whoopies: The Official Whoopie Pie Book a sweet and timely resource.

As if prescient to the legislative windstorm that blew up only a few months after her book’s publication, Griffin plays fair. A surprising amount of research fills this book’s whoopie pie shaped covers. This includes not only origination claims from the Keystone State and Vacation Land, but also those espoused by fringe cultists who believe whoopie pies are a Bay State invention.

Yeah, right. As if anybody can believe that. It’s like saying Massachusetts would have elected a conservative to fill Ted Kennedy’s seat.

For those who haven’t tried a whoopie pie before, imagine a pair of earmuffs. The ear covering parts are two moist chocolate cakes with a half-inch layer of creamy filling — either cream cheese or fluff based — holding them together. It’s no surprise that wherever they were invented, they come from a place known for long, cold winters. A body needs all the fuel it can get in February.

At first glance, Making Whoopies could be mistakenly dismissed as another regional, novelty cookbook. But Griffin sandwiches the rich filling of sixteen distinctly different recipes between entertaining cakes of history, lore and anecdotes gathered from home kitchens and bakeries across the northeast. Realizing most of the world may not be familiar with this strange dessert, she carefully bust myths, like the whoopie pie being an altered moon-pie, in cute “Whoopie Wisdom” sidebars.

And the recipes themselves? They’re to diet for. An unscientific test of the reprinted “‘Confidential Chat’ Boston Whoopie Pies” by a Maine reviewer got the lobster boat motors running when he mentioned the name of the recipe. Taste testers swore there was no way a whoopie pie that good could have come from anywhere but Down East.

Elizabeth Bear Review: Berkshire Bark – Chocolates from the Exotic Reaches of the Bay State

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Review by Elizabeth Bear: I received three bars of Berkshire Bark for review –Tropical Heat, Jumpin’ Java, and Midnight Harvest. This is not my first experience with the confectioner: Tropical Heat is one of my preferred road-trip snack foods. However, I had no previously sampled the other two varieties.

As a sensory experience, the bar itself is truly satisfactory. It’s a great big rough-hewn chunk of chocolate (the packaging indicates two servings to a bar, but I generally get three.) I am not opposed to Things In Chocolate as so many are (although Things In Brownies are a great disappointment: we don’t mess with perfection) and I very much like a dark, even bitter chocolate. I usually keep a bag of bittersweet Callebaut chips in the cabinet for noshing and baking purposes, except when my room-mate has stolen them all.

Berkshire Bark appears to be a local Massachusetts company (I live in Connecticut; the states up here are small enough for that to count as “local” even by most locavore standards) and there’s no hint on their box or website that they’re owned by anybody larger. The chocolate comes packaged conveniently, in a plastic sealed pouch inside a box you can close up and stick back in the cabinet or glove box without getting crumbs everywhere.

I don’t hold with refrigerator chocolate, so all of the bars were sampled at room temperature.

I tried the Midnight Harvest first, on the theory that it was the one I was least likely to enjoy. It bills itself as “Premium quality Belgian dark chocolate [with] whole roasted almonds and hazelnuts, fresh orange zest, and Cape Cod cranberries.” I tend to dislike packaged foods with hazelnuts in them, finding the flavor cloying, although I like filberts in the shell just fine. Imagine my surprise when these hazelnuts added crunch and flavor, but no off-taste. I suspect that means they are, indeed, excruciatingly fresh. If anything, I had a hard time telling them from the almonds without visual inspection.

The orange note isn’t strong, either in the aroma or the taste. If I hadn’t read the package, I would not have noticed this–although the cranberries are plump and juicy. But what about the chocolate? Surely the chocolate is the star of the show!

Well, sort of. It’s very nice chocolate, if without the strong personality of a really good bittersweet. But it’s creamy–especially so for a dark chocolate (I’d call it a “dark and sweet”) and it works fairly well with the associated flavors.

Jumpin’ Java came next, while my palate was still relatively fresh. This may have been a mistake, as this is a very intensely flavored bar. It contains big chunks of coffee beans and cacao nibs, as well as almonds and espresso toffee, bound together with (again) “Premium quality Belgian dark chocolate.” I don’t know what couverture Berkshire Bark uses, but it’s definitely a mild one–though velvety, without the waxy characteristics of cheaper chocolates. Surprisingly, it pairs very well with this aggressively flavored (and aggressively crunchy) bark, mellowing out the harsh edges of the cacao nib s and coffee beans. The toffee got lost, frankly: like the orange zest above, its main purpose may be cosmetic.

A brief inspection of the ingredients list indicates that the most suspicious thing in these bars is “soy lecithin,” and the fruit is sulfite-free: not too shabby. It also tells me that the Jumpin’ Java (which does seem to contain a significant amount of caffeine) has milk chocolate in it as well, so the vegan and dairy-averse would do well to be warned. I suspect the extra sweetness helps offset the coffee bitterness.

The aroma of this one was heavenly–in fact, I think I’m going to go throw on a pot of coffee as soon as I finish typing this column.

Last but definitely not least, my old standby, Tropical Heat. This is that same “Premium quality Belgian dark chocolate” we’ve come to know so well, this time in combination with chilis (ancho and cayenne), mango, papaya, coconut, pineapple, and roasted macadamia nuts. It’s like trail mix in a convenient candy shell!

The aroma is fruit and chocolate, unsurprisingly. I think you could get a dopamine hit just sniffing the wrappers. The level of heat is very mild, to my palate, and brings its own endorphins. Pretty much, this chocolate bar makes me happy, and while it may be entirely biochemical, it’s real.

The overall result of all the tropical fruit in this bar is that it comes across as fairly sweet. The fruit chunks are quite large and toothsome, big enough that each bite comes with a different array of flavors–pineapple here, mango there. (The bars are all approximately the thickness of the width of my ring finger nail; I wear a woman’s extra-large glove, so there’s plenty of room for stuff in there.)

All in all, good respectable snacking chocolate, high quality, not a trace of bloom or unintentional grittiness in any of the bars, but not a lot of depth or nuance either. (The espresso beans are a bit gritty, of course.) It’s not the nuanced, rounded flavors of a Callebaut or a Schokinag, but it’s about as good as supermarket chocolate is going to get.

I’m just sorry they didn’t send me a Pretzelogical bar to test, because I admit, I’m intrigued.

J.J.S. Boyce Review: E. Guittard Chocolates

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By J.J.S. Boyce: I’ve received a sampling of three different bars of chocolate from E. Guittard, the oldest family-owned chocolate company in the United States.

San Francisco chocolate-makers since the 1850s, the company began with one enterprising Frenchman, Etienne, who saw a market for premium chocolates during the California Gold Rush.

My sample included three chocolates, and I will work my way from dark to (relatively) light.

At 91% pure cacao, the appropriately named Nocturne is black as moonless night. Even amongst dark chocolate lovers, this will probably not be for everyone. My advice: before taking a taste of this chocolate, make sure to have a completely clean palate. If you eat anything remotely sweet beforehand, it will probably seem overwhelmingly bitter. If you take a small bit of the chocolate without making it compete with other tastes, however, it is overwhelmingly chocolatey, with just the slightest ghost of sweetness.

In comparison, the 72% cacao Quetzalcoatl, a bittersweet dark, is much more universal. The sweetness, while not overwhelming, makes its presence known, and the chocolate is, again, quite smooth. Of the three, this one alone contains no cocoa butter. I often satisfy my own chocolate cravings with a few semi-sweet chocolate chips, kept in the freezer, but this bar shows that I can handle bittersweet just fine, if it is of a high quality. As with Nocturne, a little bit of this chocolate goes a long way.

Tsaratana, lightest of the dark, I tasted last. If I was going to sample them together, I could hardly go the opposite way. A mere 61%, this one contained the same ingredients as the others: cacao, cane sugar, cocoa butter (except for Quetzalcoatl), vanilla beans. Nocturne, however, contains more cocoa butter than sugar, and in Tsaratana it is the other way around. Tsaratana is classed as a semi-sweet, but this is only by comparison with the vast amounts of sugar one finds in mass-produced chocolate bars. Actually Tsaratana is very sweet, indeed. There’s no need for it to be any sweeter.

If you have an interest in sampling for yourself some premium artisan-made chocolates, the E. Guittard web site might be a good place to start. It’s also worth poking around a bit, since there are a number of chocolate-based recipes available, not to mention some interesting information on the history and production of chocolate.

Website: Guittard Chocolate Company

J.J.S. Boyce is a freelance writer and science teacher. He tries to use both sides of his brain regularly, but will probably never know enough opera to be a Jeopardy! champion. His author blog is at www.jjsboyce.ca; his reviews can be found at Green Man Review, Sleeping Hedgehog, and Blogcritics; other work can be found at Terry, the Science Creative Quarterly, and print media.

April Gutierrez Review: Kopali Organics Chocolate Covered Bananas

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Review by April Gutierrez: Founded in Costa Rica in 2004, Kopali Organics seeks to provide access to global markets for small-scale farmers who are growing crops in a healthy and natural manner, eschewing  pesticides and needless destruction of the local environment. The company has since expanded its efforts beyond Costa Rica’s borders and currently provides ten organic vegan snacks from farmers around the world, five fruits and five chocolates.

Up for review is one of the company’s 2-oz. snack packs, containing organic dark chocolate covered bananas. The ingredients list is short and simple: dark chocolate and bananas, vanilla for flavor, soy lecithin as an emulsifier, and some rice flour.  There are no preservatives, no artificial flavors or straight up sugar; there is evaporated cane juice in the chocolate, serving to stave off the bitterness dark chocolate can be prone to. The result is an absolutely delightful treat sure to please fans of bananas and chocolate alike.  Chocolate goes well with many fruits, and bananas are no exception. These bite-sized nuggets are moist and chewy (the latter a bit of a surprise, but not unwelcome as far as texture goes) and the taste is a delicious blend of the two flavors, strongly reminiscent of freshly baked banana chocolate chip bread. The treats strike a good balance between the chocolate and banana, so that one isn’t tempted to peel the former to get to the latter (or to discard the latter) — they’re simply perfect just as they are.

In theory there’s two 120 calorie servings in each pouch, but I dare anyone to stop at just one handful!

Kopali’s Facebook pages have more information their philosophy, products, and most importantly, a list of places where they can be purchased.

April Gutierrez, Japanese fan. A Green Man Review reviewer. A life-long lover of chocolate and felines, she indulges in the former frequently and shares her abode with a rather spoiled specimen of the latter. She can most commonly be found with her nose buried in a book, a cup of good tea in hand and Japanese pop music playing in the background.

Denise Dutton Review: Stork’s Toffifay 

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Review by Denise Dutton: I remember being a kid and seeing Toffifay. It looked so elegant, so grown-up. Now this was a classy candy, obviously made for ADULTS, thought Little Me. Naturally, I had to try it. And I loved it. But I seldom wander the candy aisle anymore, so when I got a box in for review, I snapped it up.

Just as luscious as I remember. The chocolate is silky, the hazelnut cream is a lovely blend of nut and and milk, and of course the hazelnut is crispy-crunchy. (Nice work, considering this candy is shelf-stable.) Then there’s the caramel, or what I like to call “the edible bowl that holds everything”. It’s not a stringy caramel, it’s solid. But it still had a nice chew to it. Together, this candy is just as delicious as when I popped that first piece in my mouth all those years ago.  Of course now I try to bite into it, letting the candy last for two bites instead of one. I also like looking at the hazelnut. Don’t judge me.

Don’t pop these in the fridge and eat ’em cold. These are best at room temperature. That way the filling melts in your mouth the moment it hits your tongue, and the caramel is at a nice pliable state. You’ll literally sink your teeth into them when they’re soft. Mmmm, that’s the stuff.

There’s also a whole lot of recipes using Toffifay, including blondie-like bars, brownies, and cookies. But I can never keep this candy around long enough to actually bake with it. Oops. One day I’ll pop some Toffifay bars into the oven.  (Who am I kidding? I can’t wait that long to dig in.)

Denise Kitashima Dutton has been a reviewer since 2003, and hopes to get the hang of things any moment now.  She believes that bluegrass is not hell in music form, and that beer is better when it’s a nitro pour.  You can find her at Green Man Review, Atomic Fangirl, Movie-Blogger.com, or at that end seat at the bar, multi-tasking with her Kindle.

Robert Tilendis Review: Marou’s Vietnamese Chocolates

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By Robert Tilendis: The latest goodies to come my way are three bars of chocolate from Vietnam. No, I didn’t think of Vietnam as a source for chocolate either, but when you stop to think about it, although cacao originated in South America, it can grow anywhere in the tropics, so Vietnam makes as much sense as anyplace else. (Although, according to the history related on Marou’s website, cacao culture in Vietnam had a stop-and-go existence until the late 20th century, when China became a ready market for Vietnamese cacao.) Marou is another maker that offers single-source chocolates.

The first on our list is Bén Tre 78%, from the Mekong Delta. This one, like the two that follow, comes in a thin, .8 oz (24 g) bar, incised with a diamond pattern on top. (This seems to have nothing to do with the way it breaks, which seems to be fairly random.) The texture is quite brittle, and the taste is cocoa with a faint smokiness underneath and just enough sugar to cut the bitterness. The aftertaste has just the faintest hint of berries, slightly tart.

Lâm Dong 74% , from the central highlands, once again starts with a brittle texture (which, after all, is only to be expected). The taste is cacao, a bit tart and a bit buttery. The aftertaste continues the tartness and the butter — it’s a seductive combination.

Bà Ria 76%, from the east coast, like the other two, and in common with other high-cacao chocolates, starts off brittle; the taste is, again, slightly tart with a hint of spice. The aftertaste is buttery and somewhat smoky.

This is one of those cases in which a plain description is barely adequate. There’s a certain indefinable quality to these chocolates that really needs to be experienced first-hand. Happily, the website includes an interactive map for locating retailers. And these are only three out of a wider selection, so I’d say “Happy shopping!”