Are you looking for sweet, melty chocolate that makes you feel comforted—or are you a fucking adult? Are you grown up enough to appreciate that everything that once brought you joy is only really worthwhile if it punishes you?
Then strap in, because it’s time to invest in REAL chocolate. Chocolate that comes in flavors like:
- Activated Charcoal with Hand-Muddled Corsican Mint
- Blood Orange Millet Gravel (Are some of those words adjectives, or are all of them nouns? Bet your money and take your chances)
- Shaved Ghost Pepper and Rock Salt
- Regret
This chocolate is made of 87 percent unroasted cacao beans, but 100 percent of those beans have seen some shit. It was handcrafted next to a rusty fire escape in Brooklyn by stone-cold motherfuckers with nothing to lose. It hardened from its molten state in a kitchen that moonlights as an unlicensed kickboxing arena.
It’s a confection with unresolved trauma, and it knows Muay Thai.
You want itty-bitty morsels in ruffled paper cups with a satin bow? Move your basic ass along. Find the Whitman’s Sampler in the angry girlfriend aisle of your local CVS, fuckwad.
This chocolate only comes in bars. Are they pre-scored into squares? Are they tucked into pretty foil sheets, like sleepy little chocolate angels? Hell no.
Its labels were hand-painted on recycled paper by orphan monks in Genovia. You know where that is? If you don’t, then toddle on back to Target to ask your mommy for some Teddy Grahams. All you deserve to know is that Genovia is where cacao beans go to fuck around and find out.
If you DO know Genovia, because you used to pretend you were Anne Hathaway in a Dollar Tree tiara, then you’re old enough to appreciate this chocolate. A chocolate so badass that it inspires clergy to paint masterpieces in a kingdom that only exists on Disney Plus. Julie Andrews is queen there, as she is everywhere. And she eats this chocolate like it’s her fucking job.
That’s why she doesn’t age. Because chocolate that DGAF about getting too dark is also healthy enough to consume every damn day.
And like anything else with health benefits, it’s not supposed to be pleasant. It needs to be so miserable that you lapse into a deluded euphoria. If you aren’t raving about cold plunges or vitamin transfusions or chocolate that causes mild nosebleeds, how will anyone know you’ve achieved #wellness?
Chocolate shouldn’t be something you eat. It should be something you survive, even if your bank account won’t.
Buying real chocolate means becoming a savvy shopper, because what you’ll be shopping for is short-term loans. If a food isn’t ruinously expensive, it isn’t healthy. It’s basically poison.
You want chocolate that doesn’t require a diversified stock portfolio? Crunch on some Ferrero Rocher and call it a day, asshat.
You aren’t looking for a “little treat.” You aren’t trying to keep things light. You want something you have to earn. Something that you chisel apart into shards of complex agony.
You want to use words like “mouthfeel.” And you want your mouth to feel bad.
If you’re hoping for chocolate that’ll show up outside your bedroom window with Peter Gabriel on a boombox, go buy some Godiva from a Kohl’s. Pick up some matching CZ wedding rings while you’re there, you pathetic fucking romantic.
But if you want chocolate that’ll quote Kraftwerk lyrics and ask if you’re ready to confront your own mortality, congratulations.
And we have news for you: You aren’t.
But what are you going to do, admit that to this chocolate? Fuck that. If you don’t have the courage to match its gaze into the void, you don’t deserve to eat it. You should put it aside until you’ve matured. Like the bonds you’ll need to cash in before buying it.
In the meantime, grow some stones and take out loans to pick up the variety pack. You may not be ready for this chocolate. But it’s sure as shit ready for you.
And it freezes really well.
