Chocolate-Covered Gentile Joy

As a kid, I loved those occasional Saturday-night sleepovers at friends’ houses. Besides a night of giggles and girl talk, it often meant going to church on Sunday. For someone raised in a non-religious home, it wasn’t the prospect of a sermon or singing hymns that was so enticing, but the food. 

Whether it was a bland wafer and sip of faux wine or a bountiful post-Sunday school potluck, I loved the combination of ritual, new experience, and something different and edible on my tongue.  Today, the intersection of food and religion still fascinates me—from Buddhism to Islam and beyond. That's why, when researching a short piece I wrote for Vegetarian Times on Passover foods, I was excited to stumble upon this accidentally vegan treat:

As part of the investigative reporting process, I felt it was important to make a thorough examination and ensure they were, as you might say, "kosher" for vegans. They were. Definitely no dairy, eggs, or anything weird lurking inside, and they tasted pretty good, too. They're simply matzo crackers--which are essentially flour and water--coated (very thinly) in chocolate. If it's been a while since you've had, say, a Twix bar or some other mainstream candy thing with a crunchy component, you might be able to imagine that you're munching on that while you're munching on these.

Passover's not over yet, and I found these at my local supermarket. You might be able to find them at yours, too!

p.s. The box promises to deliver "real chocolate." Is there any other kind? Please say no.

Chocolate Bliss

The source of Micah's smile? I'm guessing it's his magical chocolates.

I'd have eaten the whole tray if I wasn't in civilized company. 

One of the best things about being a writer is the inevitable learning process that each new assignment becomes. You can't help but absorb information and expand your horizons when you're researching and writing about new things. Take chocolate, for instance.

OK: I already knew a thing or two about chocolate. Mostly, that I like the way it tastes. In France, there is no shortage of dark chocolate for vegans to indulge in, so I do it regularly (as in every single day). And with the opening of Un Monde Vegan, I even have access to white chocolate, and non-dairy-milk chocolate. C'est magnifique. But I digress.

Last month I was invited to attend a chocolate-making class by a visiting American and fellow vegan who would be teaching three workshops in Europe. Two of them happened to be in Paris, and while I didn't have a specific story in mind for this experience, I figured I'd come up with something. (I eventually did.)

One of a few "super" ingredients that give these chocolates that
extra  special something.

It's hard to let go when the chocolate tastes this good.

Micah and fellow raw chocalatier Frederic Marr turn on the handsome,
just like that.

On a balmy July afternoon I cycled across town to ChocoLatitudes, a new-to-me chocolate boutique on a quiet street tucked between Montparnasse Tower and Montparnasse cemetery. I arrived just in time for introductions; there were approximately 10 of us, an equal mix of Anglophones, Francophones, and one Italian to round things out. Initially, I sat myself at the back, thinking that since I was here to observe and report, I wouldn't need to be in the thick of the action. Laurence, ChocoLatitudes' owner, thought otherwise, and positioned me in a front-row-center sort of spot, with awesome views of the chocolate yumminess and the choco-maestro himself, Micah Intrator.

Enter ChocoLatitudes if you dare to be tempted by chocoholicism.

One of many vegan treats that await at ChocoLatitudes.

Laurence, fellow vegan and ChocoLatitudes' lovely owner.

Micah began dabbling in chocolate-making several years ago, mostly as an experiment. He wanted to package all the goodness of the superfood smoothies he made for himself each morning into a compact, portable form that would allow him easy access to sustained energy throughout the day. Turns out chocolate was the perfect vehicle. Today, he makes exquisite confections and sells them at artisan shops in and around his hometown of Chapel Hill, NC.

I won't stop staring until you let us taste.

How long until those are ready?

Throughout the two-hour class, Micah tutored us in the fine art of chocolatiering, making it look easy, fun, and kinda cool--in spite of the goji berries. Using interesting and unfamiliar  (to me) ingredients such as maca, mesquite, and lucuma, he created some of the best-tasting stuff I've ever had the joy of devouring. As a "reporter," I hadn't anticipated active participation, but all professionalism fell by the wayside when the samples started making their way around the room.

With the first taste, I morphed into ChocoMonster.  Hadn''t Neal Barnard written in one of his books that chocolate (like cheese) has opioid properties that mimic the same intoxicating feeling you get from heroin? This chocolate was so intense I could practically feel the opioids rolling around in my mouth. Especially in the Chocolate Caramel Crunch bars. Heaven on a stick. (Without the stick.)

The Italian contingency sampling the secret ingredients.

Stepping out into the street after the workshop, I had the sensation of soaring on a chocolate-covered cloud--one from which I hoped never to descend. I finally did, though, hours later. And since then, I've been dreaming about those chocolates, and remembering that chocolate high with a bittersweetness matched only by the dark, chocolately goodness of those magical confections.