Top | Giovanna's Trifles at Culinate
(post, Giovanna Zivny)
My parents brought a jar of gianduja back from one of their trips when I was in high school. It was a beautiful one, with the chocolate and hazelnut pastes marbled and mingled. They put it on a shelf in the cupboard and then never opened it. Ever. It was next to the can of kangaroo soup my uncle in Australia had sent us 5 years earlier. For a long time I waited, and finally, when I just couldn't stand it anymore, I opened the gianduja. I had a spoonful, and the next day another. Pretty soon I'd eaten most of the jar, but I'd carefully avoided scraping the sides. The jar looked full, but felt very light. For a few months that jar haunted me. Fear that my parents would discover it, and guilt that I'd eaten it all. Not to mention sadness that I couldn't eat anymore of it without being found out! Of course, when they finally did realize, they were amused more than anything. I learned nothing from this experience. If I were left in a house with an unattended jar of gianduja I'd eat it on the sly, spoon by spoon.