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Cocoa Loco

(post, Su T Fitterman)

Yesterday we decided to celebrate all things chocolate. Well, okay, we do that everyday. It all goes back to when my urologist told me long ago to choose one of three: alcohol, coffee or chocolate. Umm, like, no brainer? My family has embraced this dark road with me:  they, too, have become See’s Candies aficionados (the world can be divided, at least on the west coast, between those who choose See’s nuts & chews (us! us! us!) and then those who prefer those yucky soft centers). They grudgingly chop bittersweet (70%) chocolate for Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies. My tween Twit concocts the finicky custard necessary for super-creamy chocolate ice cream. My teen Twit is creating a line of chocolate syrups with his fourth cousin (for profit). I wouldn’t dream of making k’mishbroit (the Jewish biscotti) without chocolate chunks and toasted pecans. My friends have given up serving us chocolate desserts; how can they compete with Bubbe Bette’s Midnight Brownie’s 18 ounces of the dark stuff? Me, I’m a simple chocolate girl at heart. Give me a delicate bowl of mascarpone (slightly sweetened with powdered sugar) topped with almond-flavored hot-fudge sauce and I’m a happy camper. But back to yesterday: we toasted the morning with chocolate milk; snacked in the afternoon on Dorie Greenspan’s World Peace Cookies and finished the evening off with bowls of chocolate ice cream topped with hot-fudge sauce. Bliss.