Chocolate, the reason to live. Chocolate, the mood enhancer. Chocolate, the stress buster. Chocolate, the saviour. Creamy, gooey, molten, solid, dark, milk whatever be its form, the impact it has on the individual devouring it, remains the same. Pure undiluted joy. There can be no greater love than the love for chocolate. Wars, marital disputes, familial disharmony, whatever be the problem, chocolates and only chocolates can save the day.
There was a time (not too long ago) when my husband would not enter the house sans a box of chocolate in hand. He would religiously buy a gigantic slice of white chocolate-coated red velvet cake and a bag of chocolate-coated almonds from Starbucks. “For you, my dearest,” he would croon lovingly. I would go to sleep instantly with white chocolate dreams in my head, only to wake up to an empty icing-ravaged box stuffed unceremoniously in the fridge, the next morning.
Then there were mornings, I would wake up with a mad desire to drown my soul with copious amounts of molten, hot dark chocolate. We would head out the door, faster than lightening and drive for close to an hour, sometimes more, to reach Chocolateria San Churro in Bandra. We would invariably be the first and only customers so early in the morning. The server behind the counter would give us a dubious stare as we placed our orders for black coffee and hot chocolate at.
