The Remains of the Day

I had all intentions of photographing these lovely chocolates from the Newtown Chocolatier that Sue, my kick-ass, firefighter, garden guru friend had bought me, but alas, it was not to be. I had a bit too much wine the other night and went bezerk on the chocolates so you'll have to imagine what these delicious tidbits looked like. The one remaining chocolate was a delightful peanut butter cup. It was a layer of chocolate, then PB, then more chocolate. Anyhow, as I sat enjoying my chocolates in my buzzed haze, I wrote about it in my journal. Here, the transcript:

My God, what is happening to me? I'm turning into someone I hardly know, a stranger in my own skin. What's brought this about? The box of candy sitting on my nightstand.

Sue stopped by with a bagful of goodies for me yesterday. A box of dark chocolate sticks-- yum; a cone-shaped bag of Swedish butter candies-- yum; and a box of delicious chocolates from the Newtown Chocolatier. Last night I had the passionfruit jelly. Tonight I almost went for the chocolate truffle, but then I realized that the dark rectangle was a caramel and I had to have it. Yes, this is me talking. I HAD to have the caramel.

Me, who traditionally prefers crunch over chew.

Me, who views caramels as the candy of the popular crowd, the athlete, the girl with the Le Sportsac bag and Tretorns. Certainly not the candy of the quiet, shy, slightly-freaky-but-not-in-a-funky way wild-haired girl. No, she eats almond clusters and mint cremes. Definitely not caramels.

So why then did I relish every bite of the chewy, creamy, buttery-burnt caramel? This is a rhetorical question because I don't have an answer.

So, who knows. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the total shift of hormones after having a baby. Maybe it's because I'm in my 30s. All I know is that it was delicious. The next night I tried a chocolate that was so fantabulous, I wanted to weep when it was gone. It was round and prickly looking and was smooth chocolate and crispy-- what? I have no idea what it was. It was almost like those Piroutte cookies crushed up into spiky splinters. Whatever it was, it was delightful. So now I must make a trek out to this store and get some more. Maybe this time I'll even take a picture before I scarf them down.