Welcome, to my blogpost . . . another far and in between one, I know . . . but, it's a sweet one!
I must confess. I have an addiction. No, it’s not coffee or torrid sex. Well . . . let me just say about the latter. . . . oh, forget it.
I am a Chocoholic! Dark Chocolate, to be precise. There. I said it. Now, you know. Ah . . . freedom!
I don’t eat ice cream or cookies, but oh, baby, do I love the taste and feel of a chunky piece of dark, delicious chocolate melting in my mouth. And, of course, there are those who will proclaim that chocolate is better than sex.
What? You must be joking. I adore chocolate! Love, love, love it!
Could eat it for days but given the choice? Honey, not for love nor money would I trade a hot and steamy workout in Cupid’s gym with Mr. Studmuffin for an entire castle moat filled with Ganache. Yes. That hot, liquid chocolate. Apparently, invented by the French. Need I say anymore? I would rather it poured on me than float in it.
But now that I think about chocolate’s ancient history and how, over the millennia, it has seduced the imagination and taste buds of gluttons, gourmands and gastronomes the world over, this decadent ebony treat, stripped of its giandujal robe of cognac and saffron and consumed in its essential purity, can only be described as a most divinely sensual experience. Fit for the gods and humans alike.
How many scenes are written in romance novels and erotica with the elixir of chocolate added as a tincture to succor the mind and enrobe the loins? Italians were so very, very right. One doesn’t have to choose. Their decadence is paired like a palindrome!