30 June 2010

Ferrero Rondnoir

Erm. Pop art. Pops in your mouth, not in your hands.

I was skimming through my Food folder because today, I did not eat anything remotely interesting. Okay okay, I lied. I had a burrito, with mango salsa. Oh, and green bean soup. And purple cabbage. However, I hadn't taken any pictures of that stuff today, and I KNEW that I had stuff in my Food folder about which I hadn't blogged.

And here is one, from January. The dark chocolate Ferrero. The Rondnoir. As a digression... it's rather funny how the first search result for "Ferrero Rocher" ends up with the USA company title of this, er, Italian brand. I suppose it's now more American than Italian. Sigh.

So, this was six months ago, before I knew how to take food pictures. Actually, to be fair, I'm still not great at taking pictures. But, at least I now take pictures of the interior of the food...
So, now, I shall explain the interior of the Rondnoir, since I did not take any pictures of it. Imagine... a cookie-like crunchy exterior, which confuses you, as the exterior looked like hard sprinkles rather than airy cookie crumbs. Imagine the gentle shell of wafer... and in your head, you're musing about how cookie crumbs can stick to a wafer. It doesn't seem possible. Perhaps it is due to the thin veil of hard, shiny, chocolate coating that binds all the crumbs together? Maybe it is the sheer magic of chocolate, the glue that binds the world together? KABLAM! You're suddenly thrown into oblivion, as you taste a sweet, soft, gooey, chocolatey spread... it's like chocolate jam, sans texture. No, no, it's texture is so utterly completely smooth, it feels as though you are skydiving. Or lounging in melted fudge. Or chilled ganache. Yes, ganache is the perfect descript- wait! What is this hard sphere doing in your mouth?! You bite it... and realise that it is a centre of bittersweet chocolate, the perfect accompaniment -or, rather, all the others [the cookie crumbs, wafer, ganache] were the perfect accompaniment to this frivolous finale. It's gone. You have devoured a copy of what everyone else, including you, has deemed as beauty. You hold the wrapper to your tongue, just to check that every atom has been exterminated. Your breaths inhale every modicum of life from the remnants. Your ears contain the final crinkles, never to be heard again.
Okay, you get the picture. Or, the taste. I'm sure a zillion other blogs have blogged about this... but you know that mine has, by far, the most sensual experience.

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