What an awful lot of ill-considered sneering. I don't much like all the pretence of wine parlance either, but I'm glad that people enjoy wine and enjoy talking about it, as long as I can continue just drinking the stuff because it tastes nice and don't have to join in. Let's consider the benefits of the movement shall we? First, a fair amount of it is fair trade or organic - and there are some very powerful arguments in favour of encouraging these movements, which Mr Broudy doesn't even mention (he spares some subtext to sneer at we 'organic' types without considering any of the overwhelming arguments in favour of that form of agriculture). Second, Mr Broudy doesn't deny that cacao rich chocolate is better for you than the Cadbury/Hershey stuff when eaten in moderation. Third, he doesn't seem to have noticed that - even if you hate all the guff about 'tobacco' and 'cheese' - Green & Black's just tastes better than Cadbury's Dairy Milk, and yes, I'm well aware they are owned by the same company. Perhaps Mr Broudy feels that we who eat decent chocolate are pouring scorn on his own guilty Hershey habit, I'm not sure, but I don't see what we've done to deserve such mean-spirited bad press. Here is a new kind of product that tastes better, is healthier and generally speaking better for the environment and the people who make it, and can you believe it, some consumers have the audacity to buy it, eat it, enjoy it and enthuse about it! Gosh you're right Oliver, we should be thoroughly ashamed of ourselves.

I don't suspect a chocolate enthusiast would spit a piece back out after tasting it since chocolate contains no alcohol but even if it did... why all the hostility and thumbing of noses at all things perceived "snobby"?

I'm quite fine with snobs in this context because no part of these so-called snobby pursuits is actually offensive or exudes any superiority. Even if tasting chocolate effectively meant you had to spit it out after tasting it, why would the author consider it a social rebuff? Enthusiasm does not equal snobbism.

Personally, I tend to swallow in appreciating the finer things in life but I also understand why some may choose the spittoon or "enthusiastically taste" luxury chocolate.

I am writing to inform those interested that Dolfin's Chocolat Noir (70 percent) is rumored to be sculpting a Special Edition in the form of a Beret, to be Worn on the Head, Easter 2007.

Thank you,

http://www.chocolatebar.com/index.htm

Endangered Species is good chocolate too.

By the way, anyone who works in the food industry uses the word "mouthfeel" all the time, just as doctors use the word "thermometer." Oh, the pretension!

Learnin' stuff is good.

it's true. i don't consider myself an elitest chocolate snob, but 'chocolate bars,' as they are referred to in Canada, are really 'candy bars.' the mere thought of them gives me a toothache. hershey's chocolate doesn't taste remotely like chocolate to me. rather, it tastes like [brown] wax. bring on the 70% +, PLEASE. This is one of the reasons i moved to Quebec: good chocolate, unpasteurized cheese, fleur de sel salt -- all at affordable prices. Now if only they'd lower the price of wine....

...of why I'm really psyched I'm just not that into food.

Ever since my earliest memory, I've hated the vile, nasty-tasting stuff. My mother swears that the first time she spooned a bit of chocolate pudding into my mouth I spit it out all over her and started howling, sure that my own mother, whom I'd previously trusted unconditionally, was endeavoring to poison me for reasons unknown. She tried again when I was a toddler with identical results.

Every so often in my childhood, I would be presented with something chocolate with the suggestion "well. . .just take a tiny bite." I would taste the candy bar or the bit of devil's food cake or the chocolate cupcake and immediately seek a paper towel or a sink, because there was nothing in this world that could induce me to swallow such a hideous substance. I would look at my peers, eating poo-colored sweets and wonder, what is the attraction? Why are you willing to trade perfectly lovely carrot cake with cream cheese frosting for this evil, foul tasting concoction? Caramel sundaes are wonderful after a child's burger meal, why ruin the melodious blending of caramel and ice cream with. . .that nasty syrup!

I remember vividly, at a family dinner held when I was perhaps 7, my aunt brought out what she thought of as a heavenly chocolate mousse bombe. Every other member of the family salivated with joy and glee. I sat while this treat was being served until I was to be given a plate and then, with the long suffering patience of an Oliver Twist, used to being denied the joy given to other children, said quietly. "No. Thank you. I don't want any. I'm fine. Really." I watched as relatives young and old dug in with gusto and cast desperately about for something else. At birthday parties, there was still punch to sip. At restaurants, always an alternative. At home, at worst, I rather enjoyed whipped cream by itself or with a bit of jam while the rest of the family ate cake. I sat staring at my empty place for a bit and then finally, looked at my aunt with some desperation. "Is there anything else? A cough drop maybe."

My aunt went blubbering from the room, her triumph of cookery and pride done in by the plaintive cry of a polite 7-year-old who would very much, please ma'am, like something sweet too.

My mother decided then that I would never learn to like, much less tolerate chocolate. She made sure that the givers of birthday parties knew and at provided me with an alternative cupcake and that at family dinners there was at least something, even if it was leftover vanilla pudding or a package of gumdrops.

Today, as an adult, I am still completely and utterly mystified by the predilection of so many for such a hideous tasting substance. I have occasionally tasted my fingers when baking chocolate chip cookies or a rich, heavy red velvet cake for my husband. I taste, my mouth puckers and I force myself to swallow. Then I go look at the man I married, the one who will eat the cookies, the cake, the bars. We seem to be the same species; yet he adores this strange addictive substance that is anethema to me.

Was I born without the chocolate gene? Am I a mutant of some kind who should've been packed off to Xaviar's School for Gifted Children? Perhaps, in another era, I could've made my living in a sideshow a'la Carnivale ("She walks, she talks. Offer her chocolate and she vomits! The Amazing Who Despises Chocolate! Yes, even deep in the throes of PMS, she will reject all offers of Godiva! Come see this sad poor soul and be glad you are not similarly effected!")

Honestly, I don't feel the lack. And I look at all of the addicts, coveting their squares of overpriced oils and fats with a sense of superiority. Slaves to their desire. Afflicted with cravings. I may, occasionally, feel the outsider looking in, but I'm somehow glad I don't share the insider's passion.