This tin was full of assorted chocolate truffles when I bought it on Monday. At 50% off, I might add. Chocolate and a bargain — the perfect marriage.
This is what’s left today, a mere three days later.
One lone white chocolate truffle. How sad.
I wish I could tell you that I had a lot of help eating these truffles. But the truth is, I had very little help at all. I did send all the hazelnut truffles in my husband’s lunch one day. But that’s only because they’re the one kind I don’t like.
Lindt truffles are my very favorite chocolate treat. I can’t pass by a store without buying a small bag. (Or a large tin, evidently.)
I even have a system. OCD much?
First I eat all the ones in the red wrappers. Those are the milk chocolates. My favorites.
Then I eat all the ones in the orange wrappers. Orange is peanut butter. It’s sort of a toss-up as to which is my favorite, the peanut butter or the milk chocolate, but I always start with the red wrappers just the same.
Then I go to the blue — the dark chocolates.
Finally if there are any yellow wrappers (white chocolate) left, I will make do with those, but I’m not a huge white chocolate fan.
But no matter how badly I’m craving chocolate, I do not eat the hazelnuts. A girl’s gotta have some standards.
This afternoon my last dark chocolate truffle met a very unfortunate demise. I was looking forward to treasuring every last morsel of the last of the "good chocolates".
I carefully removed the blue wrapper from the candy. I took the ball of chocolate goodness between my thumb and index finger, and then that slippery bugger jumped right out of my hand. I tried to grab it but all I got was a fistful of air.
It fell on the floor and began to roll towards the stove. I dropped to the floor in a vain attempt to grab it before it disappeared beneath the oven. Thinking I could easily retrieve it, I knelt down to find that my precious chocolate was not the only thing hiding under there.
It lay among a collection of crumbs and toys and dust bunnies that have no doubt been accumulating for the entire lifetime of this house, which is about five years.
As I knelt there on the floor, surveying the scene, I had a decision to make. To what lengths am I willing to go for a piece of chocolate?
Nope, not even a piece of Lindt dark chocolate is worth the task of cleaning under that stove. So there it sits.
Now if it had been a milk chocolate, the outcome may have been very different.