30 May 2016
Chuck Roots
The Ecstasy of
Chocolate
Chocolate! The word alone elicits delicious
memories of moments of absolute taste bud euphoria which can only truly be
experienced by a true lover of the cocoa bean and its eventual liquid, solid or
powdered form.
The makers of chocolate are known as
chocolate makers by creating chocolate from cocoa beans and other ingredients.
This is not to be confused with chocolatiers. A chocolatier is a person or
company who makes confectionary from chocolate. Confectionery is also called
sweets, or candy. In any event, chocolate is the end result of their efforts.
Bless them!
As a kid my favorite chocolate bars
were Three Musketeers and Baby Ruth. While in Marine Corps boot camp our
training period ended just after Christmas of 1969. Since we had performed very
well during our training, winning many honors for our drill instructors, we
were told we could receive some Christmas goodies from home. Even with this
permission being announced I was unwilling to take the chance so I wrote my
parents and family members and specifically instructed them not to send me any
goodies. They complied and I was spared the humiliation of possibly having to
eat a whole lot of chocolate or other sweet, gooey stuff which more than likely
would have wreaked havoc on my innards.
Days before Christmas small packages
began arriving for guys in my platoon. Each evening during mail call these
packages would be handed to the intended recipient who would take his prize and
hoard it in his foot locker. I was relieved to see that the drill instructors
did not make any of these guys eat all of their stash in one sitting as I had
feared. However, one of the guys hailing from Louisiana was a bona fide Cajun. Cajuns
are primarily residents in southern Louisiana having descended from French
colonists who had settled in Acadia, an area in Canada. This fellow
received a box of homemade chocolate brandy balls from his grandmother. He and
his bunkmate ate the entire box that evening. Since our body’s systems had not
been exposed to anything remotely this sweet, and certainly nothing alcoholic
during this closely confined training period of several months, the impact on
these two guys was pretty severe. They were a mess the next day, giving the rest
of us a good laugh at the expense of their misery.
Since I was a squad leader, I was
quick to notice that one of the guys in my squad had received a care package.
As he opened the box I noticed a Baby Ruth right on top. I sidled up to him putting
a fatherly arm around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what was coming. That’s
when I asked him, “Who’s your favorite squad leader?” He sheepishly acknowledged
that I was. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind parting with that Baby Ruth sitting
there,” I said. He looked at me, then he handed me the candy bar. I took my
newly acquired prize and sat on my bunk just staring at my treasure. I was torn
by desire. I wanted desperately to eat the delicacy right then and there. But I
didn’t want the craving for it to end just yet. So I slipped the candy bar
inside my pillow case. For several nights I would slide it out of its hiding
place and just gaze upon it. I could smell the chocolate through the wrapper,
increasing my longing to consume it, but I denied myself each night. One evening
the drill instructors announced that they were very aware that some of us were
hiding away candy which would no longer be permitted since Christmas was now
past and we were preparing to graduate from boot camp. So the word was given:
Eat it tonight, or throw it away.
The moment had arrived! I could
delay no longer. The coveted candy bar, the longed-for Baby Ruth was to be eaten.
It was delightfully delicious! I don’t know that I’ve ever enjoyed a candy bar
as much as I did that one.
I still enjoy chocolate as much as I
ever did, only now I get it in different ways. When I first arrived in Ripon in
1998 as the new pastor for the Free Methodist Church, I discovered a quaint
restaurant two blocks from the church with the unique name, The Bakery, since
that is what is was originally. It was a throw-back to the 20s and 30s with a
soda fountain, counter and stools, and tables and banquet chairs. One of the
gals who worked in there at the time was Carla. I noticed the old style
milkshake mixer and asked if they still made them. She assured me they did, so
I promptly ordered a chocolate milkshake. Carla topped it off with whipped
cream and even gave me what was left in the silver canister, just like the old
days. Exquisite!
Another way I enjoy chocolate today
is from Starbucks where I occasionally order a hot Mocha. My daughter Laura
also makes awesome chocolate chip cookies. And then there is the rare treat of
Oreo Cookies and milk. The chocolate biscuit part of the Oreo is perfect! No
other cookie comes close.
So after all these reminiscences of
chocolate, what do I read in the news today? “The Newest Party Drug is
Chocolate.” What? Yup. I read it right. Apparently in Europe this is a new fad
and is catching on in the USA too. The hip thing is to snort chocolate as a
recreational drug. “Raw chocolate or cocoa is taken in drink, pill or powdered
form,” the article states.
I’m irked. There’s just something obscenely
wrong about this misuse of chocolate. Is nothing sacred anymore?
My favorite comfort food is now a
comfort food of sorts for the drug culture.
I need a chocolate milkshake!
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